"You had over ten years to say anything to us. Cut the act. A gold-digging bitch like you couldn't care less that she's gone… What do you want?" David asked coldly, each word laced with contempt.
"…" For a brief moment, she nearly exploded at him, anger flashing in her eyes, but she forced herself to hold it back. Instead, she steadied her breath and bit down on her emotions. Her gaze lingered on his white hair, wondering if the change had come from the weight of stress. Slowly, she drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself before speaking again.
"I did what I had to in order to survive. Survival of the fittest," she said softly, her tone laced with quiet bitterness.
"Yet after you were healed, where were you? Don't use that sickness of yours as the reason for why you became what you are," David replied coldly, his words sharp enough to make her flinch. She gritted her teeth, unable to offer any defense.
The truth was simple. She had been ill, and the treatment had been costly. The choice had been brutal: receive it or risk death. And though death might have been the braver risk, she hadn't been able to take it. The longer she took to treat it, the higher the chances of her suffering brain damage. The thought of living the rest of her life with her brain damaged had terrified her even more.
She was beautiful, breathtakingly so, and people had often said she had married far beneath someone of her looks. Wealthy men had always been willing to throw money her way. So, she had done what she felt she needed to do. She cut ties with her family, turned her back, and embraced what ensured her survival. Survival of the fittest—and as far as she was concerned, she had never been the fittest. d.
"I was too ashamed to return…" she admitted weakly, her voice trembling under the weight of her own guilt.
"So, you thought the one thing I needed to see was a prostitute?" David asked, his words cold and cutting, each syllable striking deeper than any blade. The accusation broke through her fragile composure, and her head lowered as fresh tears welled in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered softly, her apology faint and brittle. But David's expression did not change, and he gave no sign of caring for her weak, hollow words.
"A coward who abandoned her own family to sell herself, and now thinks she can come back for what?" David said lightly, his tone deceptively calm even as his words cut like blades. "Because she cares for what? The daughter she cut off for over ten years? If she were alive, how long would you have waited before showing yourself? Until your deathbed, just so you could feel better about yourself before going to hell?"
"I wanted to live!" she suddenly screamed, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. "I was only twenty-five—I was so young! I had my whole life ahead of me, and I did what I could to live. You think it didn't hurt?"
"Sure, it's hard… but where were you after you were healed? Stop trying to defend yourself. And honestly, I don't care. What do you want?" David asked calmly, his tone flat and detached.
"…I came to ask for some money from the insurance. I need the money," she admitted at last, her words slow and uncertain.
David gave her a deadpan look, his expression unchanging as he processed her request. After all, with so many people having died as a result of the superheroes' battle, the government had stepped in. They offered assistance to cover medical costs for the injured and provided large payments to families who had lost loved ones in the chaos.
Since David and Sarah had insurance, he had been given ten million dollars after taxes—a massive sum, one he hadn't even touched. Yet this woman, this gold digger, had the audacity to come and try to use his daughter's death as a way to benefit herself?
"What?" David asked lightly, his tone calm but sharp enough to slice through the air.
"I'm her mother… but since you did raise her for the past ten years, I think a fair fifty-fifty split would—"
She never finished her words. A sharp, resounding crack tore through the silence as David's hand connected with her face. The force of the slap sent her flying down the stairs, her body crashing awkwardly as her hand clutched at her cheek. Skin had been torn away from the sheer impact.
And she was anything but quiet. Her cries erupted, raw and piercing, so loud it was as though her very soul was screaming alongside her pain.
David stood silently, waiting until her cries dulled and the sharp edge of her pain began to fade. Only then did he begin to move, his footsteps steady as he walked toward her. The sight of him advancing made her recoil instantly, her body trembling as she scrambled backward in fear.
"Money really does change a person," David said, his voice heavy with anger. "You running away to save yourself—that I can understand. But when did my daughter become nothing more than a means for you to use, nothing more than something to fill your pockets?"
"You messed up, my husband—"
She never finished the words. Another slap struck hard across the other side of her face, the sound sharp and final. Skin tore away under the impact, leaving nothing but raw agony, and it was as if her very soul screamed in pain. She collapsed, rolling across the floor, twisting and writhing as she tried desperately to find some way—any way—to lessen the torment burning through her.
Once again, David did not move to interrupt her. He simply waited, patient and unyielding, allowing her to suffer until her cries weakened and she returned to some semblance of reason.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed at last, her voice breaking. The truth was that the first slap had already been enough. The second only stripped away the last of her defiance. She had tried to invoke her husband's name as a shield, hoping it would make David hesitate, hoping it would stay his hand. But it hadn't.
"You were always beautiful. At one point, you were beautiful inside and out," David said as he lifted her effortlessly into the air, forcing her head upward so she would face him. It was almost impossible, given the blindfold covering his eyes, but the weight of his presence alone demanded she look at him.
"Someone like you was once considered a blessing from God… yet look at you now. Beauty on the outside, hiding the dirty, rotten prostitute rotting on the inside," David said softly, his voice calm yet merciless.
All she could do was cry. Tears streamed down her face as she hung helplessly in his grip, feeling stripped of everything—her defenses, her pride, her dignity. In that moment, she was completely vulnerable, weak, and powerless before him.
"So, let's make your outside reflect your inside. Let's see if this husband of yours actually cares about you… Or if he only cares about your looks," David said coldly, his words making her pupils shrink in sheer horror.
Before she could react, David hurled her upward, her body twisting helplessly in the air. He moved in a blur, raining rapid kicks across her form. Each strike wasn't meant to cause pain but to break down and rearrange what she had flaunted for years.
Her once-rounded figure vanished. The fat that gave her curves disappeared, her chest flattened, her prized body reshaped into something unrecognizable. Her face—once beautiful enough to turn heads—was ruined, transformed into a warped version of itself. It looked as though botched surgery had carved away her features, leaving behind a sight so unsettling that children would look twice and wonder if something was horribly wrong.
With that finished, David wasted no time. He teleported away instantly, his figure vanishing as he turned his attention to more pressing matters. Luthor's pocket dimension was beginning to split into the real world, its unstable fabric threatening to tear through reality itself. There was a very real risk of the world being damaged beyond repair.
"…No."
Meanwhile, his ex-wife let out a weak cry as she stared at her phone's camera. The reflection staring back at her was unbearable. Her face was ruined, unrecognizable, twisted into something grotesque. The sound of her voice was no better, warped and ugly, and the combination left her frozen in horror. She couldn't even bear to look at herself.
Slowly, her eyes shifted back toward the spot where David had once stood, the world around her feeling as if it was breaking apart.