Chapter 4

Jaydan came home a few hours later, humming a cheerful tune. He walked into the living room where I was sitting on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen.

"Hey, honey," he said, leaning down to kiss my cheek. I didn't flinch, but it took every ounce of self-control I had. His touch felt like a violation.

"Tough day?" he asked, his voice full of fake sympathy. "Don't worry about the funding. Something better will come along."

He handed me a small gift bag. Inside was a cheap silver bracelet, the kind you find in a department store. A consolation prize. "I saw this and thought of you," he lied.

"Thank you," I said, my voice flat. I let him fasten it around my wrist, his fingers brushing against my skin. I felt nothing but disgust.

He sat next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. "You know, Addie, maybe it's time to let the project go. You've been working so hard for so long. Maybe it's a sign that you should focus on other things. On us."

The audacity of it stole my breath. After five years of systematically bleeding my project dry for his lover, he was now suggesting I give up. It was all I could do not to scream.

I leaned my head on his shoulder, playing the part of the defeated wife. "Maybe you're right," I whispered.

Inside, I was a volcano of rage. I remembered the night I sold my mother's locket. I had cried afterwards, feeling like I had betrayed her memory. Jaydan had held me, telling me how proud my parents would be of my sacrifice and determination. He had been lying. He was probably thinking about how Cuba could use the new server capacity.

"Cuba's launch is next week," he said, his voice bright with an excitement he never showed for my work. "It's going to be huge. The platform she's built... it's really going to change the world."

My platform. My world-changing idea.

"She's brilliant, isn't she?" he added, completely oblivious. He didn't even remember the core principles of my project, the ones he had praised so effusively before stealing them.

"She is," I agreed, my voice a hollow echo. I felt trapped, suffocated by his presence and his lies.

He squeezed my shoulder, misinterpreting my silence as sadness. "Don't you worry. Your time will come," he said, the words dripping with condescending pity. "We're going to the launch, of course. You need to be there to support her. To support me."

Oh, I'll be there, I thought. But not to support you.

"Of course," I said. "I wouldn't miss it."

He smiled, satisfied. He believed he had me right where he wanted me. A broken, dependent wife who would quietly stand by his side as he celebrated his victory with another woman.

He had no idea that his world was about to come crashing down.

Later that night, after he fell asleep, I slipped out of bed. I sat in the dark of the living room and sent another text to my father's old lawyer.

"The plan is in motion. Get everything ready for next week."

A reply came back instantly.

"We'll be ready. It's time for the Avilas to get justice."