“You were the one who started the lies,” she said coldly. “Be grateful I even allowed this marriage. You came from nothing. I made you somebody.”
My breath caught.
“You wouldn’t be standing here if not for us,” she added. “So don’t you dare ruin what we built.”
Then she turned, heels clicking sharply against the floor, each step echoing like a final warning before she disappeared out the door.
Silence swallowed the room.
Then Damien spoke again.
“You can file for divorce if you want,” he said, voice suddenly low and controlled, “but remember this—I know where your grandmother is. And she still needs her medicine, doesn’t she?”
He didn’t wait for a response. He just left.
The door shut behind him.
And I stood there, frozen.
My cheek burned. My hands trembled. My entire body felt like it was collapsing inward as everything I had built—every lie, every sacrifice, every illusion—cracked at once.
No.
I couldn’t stay like this. I couldn’t keep drowning in this life.
I forced myself to move, grabbing my things, heading toward the door—ready to leave it all behind—
But then a voice stopped me.
“Not leaving yet?”