When I got home from work, my husband and his mistress were sitting in the living room, shamelessly wrapped in each other's arms. For a single condemning glance, my husband slapped me six times. And then, in the middle of that stormy night, he ordered me to get out. "Savannah, get out of here and think about what you did wrong." I immediately called the most powerful entrepreneur in Chicago.

"Dad, it's me. They beat me and threw me out of the house." A grave silence fell on the line, followed by an enraged roar. Who did this? "Caleb Prescott and his entire family.

None of them will get away with this. Not a single one." The night was pitch black and thunder rolled across the sky without pause. The rain poured down in sheets, drumming against the windows with such force it seemed it would soon swallow the whole house. It all started a few hours earlier.

I, Savannah, who had hidden my true surname Vance for 5 years, had just returned home, exhausted from my shift at a large retail store. I was soaked to the bone. But when I opened the door, a warm dinner was not what awaited me. What I saw was my legal husband, Caleb Prescott, passionately intertwined with a woman named Briana on our living room couch.

Briana was wearing a silk dress that I had been saving up for 3 months. Even when she saw me, not only did she not get up, but she snuggled even closer to Caleb and said in a saccharine voice, "Caleb, darling, look at this woman. She's all wet. She's going to get the whole floor dirty." A flame of rage erupted in my chest.

I, who had worked day and night saving every cent for this house, watched as this man, Caleb, used the money we had set aside for a car to buy Briana designer bags and clothes, and now he even dared to bring her into our home. I pointed to the door and yelled at Caleb. Caleb, throw this woman out immediately. Before Caleb could open his mouth, Briana interjected with a mocking smirk.

Oh, Savannah, you're so on edge. But this is Caleb's house. I don't think it's any of your business whether I'm here or not. I trembled with rage from head to toe, giving her a furious glare, wishing I could kill her with my eyes alone.

And that look became the spark that lit the fuse. Caleb shot to his feet. He stood in front of me and threatened me, nearly poking me in the nose with his finger. Savannah, who are you looking at like that?

You've gotten bold, haven't you? How dare you look at Briana that way? I felt as if an icy spike had pierced my heart. Caleb, do you have a conscience?

I am your wife. Wife? A plain Jane like you isn't fit to touch Briana's shoes. Apologize to her.

He wanted me to apologize to his mistress immediately. I, Savannah Vance, had not sunk so low. I clenched my teeth and once again fixed my gaze on Briana. I wanted to tear her to shreds, if only with my eyes.

In that moment, the madman Caleb exploded. You're still staring at her. I told you not to look at her. He began to insult me, raising his hand.

It wasn't just once. It was a merciless beating. He struck me across the cheek six times in a row. A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears and my cheeks burned like fire.

My vision went dark and sparks flew before my eyes. I fell to the floor and tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Lying on the floor, I heard Briana's hypocritical voice. Caleb, honey, stop.

You're scaring me. But Caleb, still consumed by his rage, grabbed me by the collar and dragged me toward the front door like a sack of potatoes. He threw the door wide open. A cold wind and rain burst inside.

Get out. Get out of here and think about what you did wrong. And don't come back until you're ready to beg for forgiveness. He finished speaking and gave me a hard shove.

I stumbled and fell face first into the muddy water outside. With a deafening slam, the door closed behind me. Immediately after, I heard the metallic sound of the dead bolt sliding into place. The icy water instantly soaked me through.

The throbbing pain in my cheeks. The chill that pierced me to the bone. None of it could compare, not in the slightest, to the pain of my broken heart. I sat in a puddle of mud, staring at the closed door.

From inside, I could hear Briana's soft, flirtatious giggles and Caleb's tender voice. Tears mixed with the rain on my face. But in that moment, my heart died completely. There wasn't a shred of attachment left in it for this house or for Caleb.

Caleb Prescott. For your mistress, you hit me six times on a stormy night and threw me out of the house like trash. Fine. Very well.

You've surely forgotten. Or perhaps you never knew that I, Savannah Vance, am no pushover. With trembling hands, I pulled an old cell phone with a nearly dead battery from my soaked pocket. I had to wipe the rain screen several times just to see anything.

In my contacts, I found a number I hadn't dialed in 5 years. The name saved there was simple. Dad. I pressed the call button and held the phone to my ear.

After three or four rings, someone finally answered, I heard the low, slightly surprised voice of a middle-aged man. Hello, who is this? The rain was blurring my vision. Sniffling, I gathered all my strength and through my sobs, clearly pronounced each syllable.

Dad, it's me, Savannah. On the other side, there was silence for a few seconds. Only my ragged breathing and the relentless sound of the rain could be heard. The connection was lost.

He didn't recognize my voice. Just as my heart was sinking, that low voice suddenly rose, full of disbelief and urgency that pierced through the curtain of rain. "Savannah, is that you? My Savannah, where are you?

What happened? Who hurt you?" At that desperate question, everything I had been suppressing came crashing down. The grief poured out like a broken dam, and I began to cry inconsolably. A mixture of rain and tears streamed into my mouth.

It was bitter and salty. I curled up from the cold like a lost child who finally finds her parents. I barely managed to choke out through my sobs. He hit me and threw me out of the house.