Everyone believed them.
Why wouldn’t they?
Marcus was rich, charming, admired.
Vivian looked fragile and heartbroken.
And I was the cold wife who refused to cry for an audience.
The night I was arrested, Marcus visited my holding cell once.
His expensive suit smelled like cedarwood and victory.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
He crouched beside the bars with a smile that made my skin crawl.
“Because you wouldn’t sign over the company shares,” he said calmly. “Because you kept asking questions. Because Vivian is easier to love.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
He tilted his head slightly.
“No one likes a proud woman in a cage, Elena.”
After that night, he disappeared completely.
No visits.
No phone calls.
No replies to my letters.
But prison taught me things.
Patience.
Silence.
Discipline.
I learned that revenge is not loud anger.
It’s paperwork filed at the perfect moment.
A witness protected before trial.
A bank account frozen before sunrise.
Marcus thought prison would destroy me.
