Chapter 3

I sat in my car outside my parents' house, blood seeping through my torn jeans from where I'd fallen. My knee throbbed with each heartbeat, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest. The dashboard clock read 4:17 PM. In three hours, Sean would be home, expecting dinner and his usual performance of marital bliss.

I couldn't go home. Not yet. Not with my face blotchy from crying and my hands still shaking with rage.

"Liliana? Dear, are you alright?"

I looked up to see Mrs. Chen hurrying toward my car, her weathered face creased with concern. She lived two houses down from my parents, the kind of neighbor who actually noticed when something was wrong.

"I'm fine," I lied, but my voice cracked on the words.

She peered through my window, taking in my tear-stained cheeks and the blood on my knee. "No, you're not. Come inside, child. Let me help you."

Before I could protest, she was opening my car door with gentle but firm hands. "Mrs. Chen, really, I don't want to bother—"

"Nonsense. You're hurt and upset. That's what neighbors are for."

Her small house smelled like jasmine tea and something warm baking in the oven. She guided me to her kitchen table, the same one where she'd fed me cookies as a child when my parents were too busy to notice I was hungry.

"Sit," she commanded, already bustling around her kitchen. "Let me clean that knee."

As she dabbed at my scraped skin with gentle efficiency, I found myself crying again. Not the angry sobs from earlier, but quiet tears that felt like they were coming from somewhere deeper.

"There now," she murmured, her voice carrying the warmth my mother's never had. "Tell me what happened."

The words spilled out of me like water through a broken dam. Sean's betrayal, the money, Sloane, my parents' cold dismissal. Mrs. Chen listened without interruption, her lined hands never stopping their careful ministrations.

"My own mother called him," I whispered, the betrayal still fresh and sharp. "She warned him that I was acting strange. She chose him over me."

Mrs. Chen's hands stilled for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was steel wrapped in silk. "Some people are too broken to love properly, even their own children. That's their failing, not yours."

She finished bandaging my knee and settled into the chair across from me, pouring tea from a delicate porcelain pot. "What will you do now?"

I wrapped my hands around the warm cup, letting the heat seep into my cold fingers. "I don't know. I feel so stupid. Five years of believing in something that was never real."

"You loved with your whole heart. That's not stupid—that's brave. But now you know the truth. The question is, what are you going to do with it?"

Her words sparked something in me, a flicker of the determination I'd felt earlier. "I need proof. Real proof that will hold up in court."

Mrs. Chen nodded approvingly. "Smart girl. Do you have a plan?"

"I'm going to hire a private investigator." The decision crystallized as I spoke it aloud. "Someone professional who can document everything properly."

I pulled out my phone and searched for investigators in our area. One name stood out: David Morrison, former police detective with excellent reviews and a specialty in matrimonial cases. His office was downtown, and according to his website, he offered free consultations.

"David Morrison Investigations," a gravelly voice answered on the second ring.

"Mr. Morrison? My name is Liliana. I need to discuss hiring you for a... sensitive matter."

"Matrimonial case?"

"Yes. How did you—"

"Twenty years in this business, ma'am. I can hear it in your voice. Can you come in tomorrow morning? Say, nine o'clock?"

I glanced at Mrs. Chen, who nodded encouragingly. "Yes. I'll be there."

After hanging up, I felt lighter somehow. Like I'd taken the first real step toward reclaiming my life.

"You'll need to be very careful now," Mrs. Chen warned. "If your husband suspects you're investigating, he might hide assets or become dangerous."

"I know. I'll act normal. Keep playing the perfect wife while I gather evidence."

The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd been performing for Sean for years without realizing it. Now I'd simply be performing with purpose.

I stayed with Mrs. Chen until six, letting her feed me soup and listening to her stories about her late husband—a man who'd loved her fiercely for forty-three years. The kind of love I'd thought I had with Sean.

When I finally drove home, my knee had stopped throbbing and my tears had dried. Sean's car was already in the driveway, and I could see him through the kitchen window, probably wondering where dinner was.

I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and walked into my house with a smile on my face.

"Hi, honey," I called out, my voice perfectly normal. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was terrible."

He looked up from his laptop—the same laptop where I'd discovered his betrayal—and smiled that charming smile that had once made my heart flutter.

"No problem, babe. Rough day?"

"Oh, you know. Same old, same old." I moved to the refrigerator, already planning dinner. "How was your day?"

As he launched into some story about a difficult client, I nodded and made appropriate sounds while mentally cataloging every detail. The way he checked his phone constantly. The new cologne he'd started wearing. The late nights he blamed on work.

I was no longer his naive wife. I was gathering intelligence.

And tomorrow, I would begin building the case that would set me free.