Hannah turned and walked away, her head spinning with anger. Her temples throbbed, and her heart pounded in her chest.
Lionel sat at the table, his eyes closed. He took a deep breath, then shot up from his chair and went after her.
“I’ll drive you to work.”
“I don’t need you to!”
She yanked her arm away from him and strode toward the door.
But Lionel wasn't giving up. He caught up to her again, his grip firm on her arm as he pulled her toward his car.
“I’m not going to see her. I’m taking you to work, then I’m going to my office. I’ll pick you up this afternoon—”
Crack.
Before he could finish, Hannah’s hand flew across his face. She put all of her morning’s frustration and humiliation into the blow.
The force of the slap sent a stinging pain through her palm, her hand trembling from the impact. Her eyes, burning with unshed tears and rage, were fixed on him, but she said nothing.
Lionel’s head snapped to the side, a red handprint already forming on his cheek. His face darkened, his expression turning thunderous, but there was no anger in his eyes.
“Feel better?” he asked with a humorless smirk, turning his other cheek toward her. “If that wasn’t enough, you can have this one, too. Hit me until you’re not angry anymore.”
Hannah stared at him, a strange urge to laugh bubbling up inside her. She had no idea why he was acting like this. She was giving him what he wanted, letting him be with Sandra. Why was he still tormenting her?

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