Chapter 12

Chapter 12

ADRIA

I found myself laughing, real laughter that came from somewhere deep in my chest. When was the last time I'd laughed like this? Before the wedding, certainly. Before I'd seen that necklace and lost my mind.

"I did something stupid," I admitted.

"Obviously. What kind of stupid are we talking? Joined a cult stupid? Had a mental breakdown stupid? Fell in love with the wrong person stupid?"

"That last one. Kind of."

Maya's voice immediately softened. "Oh honey. Tell me everything."

And I did. I told her about the necklace, about Damien, about eighteen months of making myself smaller and smaller until there was almost nothing left. I told her about the soup incident, about last night's revelation, about my plan to find the real owner of the necklace and reclaim my identity.

She listened without interrupting, which for Maya was nothing short of miraculous.

"Okay," she said when I finished. "First of all, I love you, but that was monumentally stupid."

"I know."

"Second, this Damien guy sounds like a complete asshole and I want to punch him in the throat."

"Get in line."

"Third, and this is important—are you safe? Like, physically safe? Because abusers don't usually take kindly to their victims waking up and realizing they deserve better."

The question stopped me cold. Was I safe? Damien had never hit me, never physically threatened me. But there were other kinds of violence, weren't there? Other ways to hurt someone.

"I can handle myself," I said finally.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know. But it's the only answer I have right now."

Maya sighed. "Fine. But I'm coming over. Give me your address and I'll be there in an hour."

"No!" The word came out sharper than I'd intended. "I mean, not yet. I can't risk anyone knowing where I am or connecting Adriana Chen to Adriana Salvadore. Not until I'm ready to reveal everything."

"Then come to me. We can meet at that coffee shop we used to go to, the one near campus."

"I can't. Damien tracks my location through my phone. If I go anywhere he doesn't approve of, he'll—" I stopped, hearing how that sounded out loud.

"He'll what?" Maya's voice was dangerously quiet.

"Nothing. He'll just... worry. Get upset. It's fine."

"It is absolutely not fine. Adria, do you hear yourself? You're making excuses for a man who controls your location, pours hot soup on you, and treats you like property."

"I know what it sounds like—"

"It sounds like you're in an abusive relationship. Because you are."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and undeniable.

"I'm getting out," I said quietly. "I just need a little more time."

"How much time?"

"A few days. A week at most. Just long enough to find out who owns that necklace."

"And then?"

"And then Adriana Chen disappears forever, and Adriana Salvadore comes home."

"Promise me," Maya said. "Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you won't wait so long that it becomes too dangerous to leave."

"I promise."

"I'm serious, Adria. I can't lose you again. My heart can't take it."

"You won't. I swear."

We talked for another twenty minutes about lighter things—her job at a tech startup, her on-again-off-again relationship with Jordan (currently on), the mutual friends who'd be thrilled to know I was alive. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long.

When I hung up, I felt both better and worse. Better because I'd reconnected with someone who knew the real me. Worse because I'd heard my own situation described accurately for the first time, and it was uglier than I'd let myself acknowledge.

My burner phone rang again. Damien.

I considered not answering, but that would raise questions I wasn't ready to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi." His voice sounded strange, uncertain. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Resting like you said."

"Good. That's good." A pause. "I scheduled a doctor's appointment for you tomorrow. Two PM. Just to make sure the burns are healing properly."

"I know. They called to confirm."

"Oh. Right." Another pause, longer this time. "Adriana, about last night—"

Here it comes, I thought. The apology that isn't really an apology. The explanation that's actually a justification. The request that I forget it ever happened and go back to being his perfect, docile wife.

"—I think we should have dinner tonight. Just the two of us. There are some things we need to discuss."

That wasn't what I'd expected. "Okay. What time?"

"Seven? I'll have Melissa make reservations somewhere nice."

Somewhere nice. Which meant somewhere public, where we'd have to maintain appearances, where I'd have to smile and nod and pretend everything was fine while he said whatever he'd planned to say.

"That sounds lovely," I lied.

"Great. Wear that blue dress I like. The one with the high collar."

The one that made me look like I was auditioning for a Victorian drama. The one that covered every inch of skin and made me invisible.

"Of course."

"I'll pick you up at six-thirty. Be ready."

He hung up without saying goodbye, because why would he? Goodbyes were for people who mattered, and I was just an obligation he had to manage.

I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for dinner like I was preparing for battle. I showered carefully, avoiding the burns. I did my hair the way Damien preferred—pulled back in a simple bun, nothing flashy, nothing that might draw attention. I applied minimal makeup, just enough to look presentable but not enough to look like I was trying.

The blue dress hung in my closet like a shroud. I pulled it on and looked at myself in the mirror, seeing a stranger staring back. Pale, wan, forgettable. Everything I'd made myself become.

Just a little longer, I told the reflection. Just a few more days and you can be yourself again.

Damien arrived at exactly six-thirty, because of course he did. He walked in without knocking—it was his house, after all, even if I lived in it—and looked me over with a critical eye.

"Perfect," he said. "You look perfect."