Elena's POV
I make it to the parking garage before my legs give out.
My car is three spaces away but it might as well be on the moon. I fall against a concrete pillar, sliding down until I'm sitting on the cold ground, and finally—finally—I let myself shatter.
The tears come from somewhere deep and animal. Seven years of swallowed hurt, seven years of "I'm fine," seven years of lying I don't see the truth—it all explodes out of me in ugly, gasping cries that echo through the empty garage.
Liam's voice loops in my head: "The three of us look more like a family than with Mommy."
My baby. My boy. The child I carried, the child I raised, the child I gave everything for—he wishes I would disappear.
And Adrian let him say it. Didn't correct him. Didn't defend me. Just looked annoyed that I disturbed their perfect little family moment.
With her. With Vivian. The woman wearing my bracelet, sleeping with my husband, taking my life piece by piece while I stood by and let it happen because I was too busy trying to be good enough.
I'm never going to be enough for them. I finally understand that.
My phone buzzes. A text from Adrian: Where did you go? You're being dramatic. We'll talk tonight.
Dramatic. I'm dramatic for being hurt. For caring. For living.
I don't answer. Instead, I pull out the flash drive I took from his study. The one titled "Kane Industries - Private Files." I took it on impulse, some sense telling me I'd need ammunition. Proof. Something.
Now I need to know what's on it.
I haul myself up and make it to my car. My hands shake so badly it takes three tries to start the engine. The drive home is a blur of tears and red lights and the heavy weight of failure pressing down on my chest.
At home, the house feels like an exhibit of my wasted life. Liam's toys scattered across the living room—I order them every night, and every morning they're everywhere again. The kitchen where I cook meals nobody respects. The bedroom I share with a man who doesn't love me.
I never did, his voice echoes from last night's fight. The words he whispered when I asked if he loved me. I never did.
I knew. Deep down, I always knew. But hearing it out loud felt like being skinned alive.
I plug the flash drive into my laptop with shaky fingers. Files fill the screen—hundreds of them. Financial records, emails, contracts. I start clicking randomly, not even sure what I'm looking for.
Then I see it. A folder titled "Exit Strategy."
My blood turns to ice.
Inside are papers dated over the past six months. Emails between Adrian and his lawyer talking "asset protection" and "minimizing spousal claims." Plans to move money into offshore accounts. A draft postnuptial deal that would give me even less than the prenup.
He's been planning to divorce me. For months. While I cooked his dinners and raised his son and tried desperately to save our marriage, he was building escape routes.
But it gets worse.
There's an email from three months ago. Adrian to his lawyer: "Timeline accelerated. V is pregnant. Need to finish exit before E finds out. Paternity test shows it's mine. Need clean break from marriage before this complicates things."
V is pregnant.
Vivian is pregnant.
With Adrian's baby.
Three months ago. Which means while I was tracking my ovulation and taking fertility drugs and hoping for a miracle, Adrian was creating one with someone else.
The room spins. I grab the desk to keep from falling.
There's more. Another text, this one from two weeks ago: "E suspects something. She's asking too many questions. Need to speed the timeline. Boarding school for L is key—removes him from her control. Once he's settled, will start divorce proceedings. V's pregnancy is now 14 weeks. Need this done before she shows."
They're sending Liam away. Not for his schooling. To take him from me. To make the transition easy when Adrian replaces me with Vivian and their baby.
I'm not being replaced. I've already been changed.
This morning's pregnancy test sits on the desk beside my laptop. Two pink lines. The miracle I wanted so badly.
And it means nothing. Less than nothing. Because Adrian already has a baby on the way with the woman he actually wants.
My phone rings. Adrian. I let it go to voicemail.
It rings again. And again.
Finally, a text: Elena, where are you? We need to talk about this pregnancy problem. Don't do anything stupid.
Situation. That word again. Our baby is a situation. An inconvenience. A problem to be handled.
But Vivian's baby? That one gets offshore accounts and exit plans and careful planning.
Another text, this one from an unknown number: Mrs. Kane, this is Marcus Sterling. My lawyer friend can see you tomorrow, 9 AM. Her name is Rebecca Stone. She's never lost a divorce case. But Elena—she'll need full disclosure. Everything. Are you ready for that kind of war?
I look at the flash drive. At the proof of Adrian's betrayal. At proof that he's been carefully planning to erase me from his life while I begged for scraps of his attention.
I think about Liam's face in that room. How happy he looked without me. How he wished I would just go away.
I think about Vivian's smile. Adrian's cold eyes. Seven years of invisible pain.
And I think about this baby growing inside me. This child who deserves better than a woman too broken to fight. Better than a father who calls them a situation.
My fingers move across the keyboard: 9 AM. I'll be there. And Marcus? I'm not going to war. I'm going to win.
I hit send, then pull up my browser and start studying. "How to copy encrypted files." "Digital evidence in divorce court." "Prenuptial agreement loopholes."
Hours pass. The sun sets. Adrian comes home—I hear his car, his footsteps, his voice calling my name.
I don't answer.
He tries the bedroom door. Locked.
"Elena, open this door. We need to talk about the baby like adults."
"Go sleep with your pregnant assistant," I call back, my voice strangely calm. "I'm sure she'll be very understanding."
Silence. Long and bad.
Then: "What are you talking about?"
"Fourteen weeks, Adrian. Vivian is fourteen weeks pregnant. Or did you forget to say that?"
The doorknob rattles wildly. "Elena, let me explain—"
"Explain? You want to explain how you've been planning to divorce me for months? How you're sending Liam away to make the change easier? How you and your lawyer have been talking 'exit strategies' while I was taking fertility drugs?" My voice rises. "Which part would you like to explain first?"
Silence again.
"How did you—" He stops. "Did you go through my files?"
"Your files? These are emails, Adrian. Proof. Evidence. And tomorrow morning, my lawyer is going to see every single one."
"You wouldn't dare."
I open the bedroom door. Adrian stands there, his face pale, his eyes wild. For the first time in seven years, he looks scared.
Good.
"Watch me," I whisper.
He grabs my arm. Not hard, but strong. Desperate. "Elena, think about Liam. Think about what a breakup will do to him."
"I am thinking about Liam. I'm thinking about how he deserves better than parents who hate each other. How he deserves better than a father who ships him off to boarding school to make room for his substitute family."
"It's not like that—"
"It's exactly like that." I pull my arm free. "You wanted me gone? Congratulations. I'm going. But I'm not leaving softly, and I'm not leaving with nothing. You tried to erase me, Adrian. Now I'm going to make sure no one ever forgets I existed."
I walk past him, down the stairs, grabbing my bag and laptop.
"Where are you going?"
"Somewhere you'll never find me. Somewhere I can think without your lies choking me."
"Elena, please—"
I turn at the door. "Did you love her? When you got her pregnant? Did you feel anything?"
Adrian's face collapses. "I made a mistake—"
"No. A mistake is forgetting to pick up milk. A mistake is being late to dinner. This?" I gesture between us. "This is a decision. You picked her. You chose to betray me. You chose to plan my exit while I begged for your attention. So now I'm picking too. I'm picking me."
I walk out, and this time, I don't look back.
My car takes me to Grace's place across town. She opens the door in pajamas, takes one look at my face, and pulls me inside.
"What happened?"
"Everything," I whisper. "Grace, I need your help. I need to hide. Can you—"
My phone buzzes. A text from a number I don't recognize: Elena, it's Vivian. We should talk. Woman to woman. Meet me tomorrow, 7 AM, Coffee Haven on Main Street. Come alone. There are things about Adrian you don't know. Things that will change everything.
I show Grace the message.
"It's a trap," she says instantly. "Don't go."
But I'm already typing back: I'll be there.
Because if I'm going to destroy Adrian Kane, I need to know everything.
Even if it kills me too.