Chapter 3b: Victoria’s warning II

“Not for another four and a half years. But…” Victoria’s expression was grim. “If she wanted to come back into his life? If she wanted to destroy his marriage and keep him waiting for her? She has every incentive to do exactly that.”

Elena felt cold all over. “She’s going to play with him. String him along. Maybe even try to destroy me in the process, just for fun.”

“That’s my guess.” Victoria put her phone away. “Which means you need to protect yourself, Elena. Legally, financially, emotionally. Because if Isabelle is as manipulative as I think she is, things are about to get very ugly.”

Elena stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the late afternoon sun made everything look golden and perfect. Like the world wasn’t crumbling around her.

“I trusted him,” she said quietly. “I gave up everything for him. My art, my dreams, my…” She stopped, not wanting to say the rest out loud.

But Victoria knew anyway. “Your family.”

Elena’s chest tightened. She hadn’t talked to her family in five years. Not since she’d told them she was marrying Marcus and they’d begged her not to. Not since her father had said, “You’re making a mistake,” and she’d said, “It’s my life,” and walked away.

She’d been so sure. So convinced that love was enough.

“They warned me,” Elena whispered. “They told me Marcus was wrong for me. And I didn’t listen.”

“You were twenty-two and in love. Of course you didn’t listen.” Victoria came to stand beside her at the window. “But you can call them now. Tell them what’s happening. They’d help you, Elena. Your family has resources—”

“No.” The word came out sharp. “I’m not crawling back to them after five years just because my marriage is failing. I need to handle this myself.”

Victoria was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, softly, “Why?”

“Because I need to prove I can.” Elena turned to face her friend. “I walked away from my family to marry Marcus. I told them I didn’t need their help, that I could build a life on my own. If I run back now, it proves I was wrong. It proves I’m still that naive girl who doesn’t know how to take care of herself.”

“That’s pride talking.”

“Maybe. But it’s the only thing I have left.” Elena’s voice cracked. “Marcus took everything else. My time, my dreams, my self-respect. I need to keep my pride, Vic. It’s all that’s holding me together.”

Victoria studied her for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly. “Okay. No family. But you need help, Elena. You can’t do this alone.”

“I’ll hire the investigator. Get the evidence I need. Then—” Elena took a shaky breath. “Then I’ll decide what to do.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, I act normal. I go home to my cheating husband and pretend I don’t know anything. I smile and play the dutiful wife while I gather ammunition.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth. “I’ve been doing it for five years. I can do it a little longer.”

Victoria looked like she wanted to argue, but something in Elena’s expression stopped her. Instead, she pulled Elena into a tight hug.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Victoria whispered. “And when this is over, when you’re free of him, I hope you’ll see that.”

Elena hugged her back and said nothing. Because she didn’t feel strong. She felt shattered, used, stupid for believing in something that was never real.

But she’d learn. She’d gather her evidence, protect herself, and when the time was right, she’d walk away with her head held high.

Even if it killed her.

After Victoria left, Elena cleaned up the wine glasses and tried to figure out what to do next. It was four PM. Marcus wouldn’t be home until late, if he came home at all.

She should eat something. She hadn’t had anything except coffee and wine all day. But her stomach rebelled at the thought of food.

Instead, she went upstairs to the guest room where she used to paint. The room was dusty now, unused, but her easel still stood in the corner. Covered, abandoned, waiting.

Elena pulled the cover off and stared at the blank canvas underneath. When was the last time she’d painted? Two years ago? Three?

She’d given it up for Marcus. He’d said her painting was a “hobby,” not a career. He’d said she should focus on being a good wife instead of wasting time on art. And she’d listened, because she’d wanted to make him happy.

She’d wanted to be enough.

Elena grabbed a brush, not even bothering with her palette, and started painting directly onto the canvas. No plan, no composition, just raw emotion translated into color. Angry reds. Bitter blues. Black for the hole in her chest where her heart used to be.

She painted until her arms ached and the light faded from the windows. When she finally stepped back, the canvas was covered in chaos, violent swirls of color that looked like a storm, like rage, like heartbreak made visible.

It was the most honest thing she’d created in years.

Elena stared at it, breathing hard, and felt something crack open inside her chest. Not her heart, that was already broken. Something else. Something that had been locked away for five years.

Her anger.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Marcus: Meeting running late. Don’t know when I’ll be home.

Translation: he was with Isabelle.

Elena looked at the text, then at her painting, then back at the text.

Then she threw her phone across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor, the screen cracking with a satisfying snap.

She didn’t pick it up.

Instead, she went to the bathroom, washed the paint off her hands, and looked at herself in the mirror.

The woman looking back wasn’t the girl who’d married Marcus five years ago. That girl had been soft, hopeful, believing in fairy tales.

This woman was done with fairy tales.

“I’m going to destroy you,” Elena told her reflection. But she wasn’t talking to herself. She was talking to Marcus. To Isabelle. To everyone who’d underestimated her.

She was done being invisible. Done being a substitute. Done being the woman who waited at home while her husband built a life with someone else.

Tomorrow, she’d hire the investigator. She’d gather evidence. She’d build her case.

And then she’d burn Marcus’s world to the ground.