For eight months, he had been teaching me helplessness.
For eight months, I had been pretending to learn.
What Adrian didn’t know was that before I married him, I had worked in forensic accounting. Quiet work. Boring work, he called it. Numbers, contracts, shell companies, signatures.
He also didn’t know I had kept everything.
The recordings. The medical reports. The photos. The threatening texts. The secret transfers from his firm into Veronica’s private litigation fund. The offshore account named after his dead dog.
I had not stayed because I was weak.
I had stayed because I was pregnant, watched, and building a case strong enough that no Vale could buy their way out.
The car door opened.
My mother slid in beside me, still graceful, still calm. Not a hair out of place.