“I have already contacted my attorney,” I said. “Your infidelity and documented emotional abuse violate our prenuptial agreement. I will be filing for annulment.”
His face crumpled.
“You don’t love me,” I continued evenly. “You loved the idea of an heir. Now that you know the truth, I am no longer useful to you. And you are no longer necessary to me.”
I turned toward the door.
Behind me, I heard shouting, glass breaking, Doña Matilda wailing about lost lineage.
The party that was meant to celebrate a future had become a public autopsy of a lie.
Outside, the night air felt unfamiliar.
Lighter.
For the first time in ten years, I was not the accused.
I was not the problem.
I was not the woman who lacked something.
As I walked away from the mansion, I did not look back.
They had spent a decade convincing me I was incomplete.
But in the end, the only thing I was missing… was freedom.
And now, I had it.
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