Chapter 8

I settled in a small Chicago town, forgoing my mother-in-law's "helpful" international escape plan. A few days after my arrival, Kira, one of my mother's former students, tracked me down. Both my parents had been university professors—Dad, a brilliant artist, and Mom, whose architectural designs had won international awards. This student had since become a private investigator. Upon seeing me, she embraced me fiercely, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Jesus Christ, Yunifer, why didn't you call me sooner? Your mom was like family to me—I won't let those bastards get away with this."

After letting her vent, I invited her inside and presented my evidence: the videos, recordings, and meticulously collected documents. Her face hardened with each revelation. When I finished, she slammed her fist on the table.

"Those sociopathic pieces of shit!" she exploded. "I actually thought when you married Hektor after prison that you'd finally caught a break!"

"Instead," I said, "that manipulative asshole orchestrated the whole damn thing. Framing me, destroying my career, driving my father to his grave, and now literally killing my mother? They belong in cages, not mansions."

When her fury subsided, I leaned forward. "I want my life back. Everything they stole from me. Can you help me?"

She nodded, but looked troubled. "We still need evidence proving Hektor switched your paintings."

The situation was complicated. I had sold authentic masterpieces to collectors, but Hektor had created near-perfect forgeries and swapped them undetected. The audio confession was damning, but in court, we needed physical evidence or eyewitness testimony to guarantee justice. Kira promised to find what we needed, but my compromised immune system had other plans. I contracted pneumonia and spent a week fighting for my life in the hospital.

Upon my discharge, I was shocked to find Hektor outside my rented apartment. He looked terrible—unshaven, exhausted, hollow-eyed. When he saw me, his empty gaze suddenly sparked to life. He rushed forward and embraced me tightly.

"Thank God," he choked out. "Please come home, Yunifer. I'm begging you. Whatever you want, whatever you need—it's yours. Just come back. We can fix this. Please."

His grip was so tight I could barely breathe. I forcefully pushed him away.

"Hektor, we're divorced. I'm never coming back to you."

My rejection stunned him. After a moment, he forced a stiff smile.

"That's not… that's not real," he stammered. "I never signed anything. Those papers aren't valid."

I regarded him coldly. "Drop the act, Hektor. I know everything you've done."

"What could possibly make you think I'd want anything to do with someone who systematically destroyed my entire life?"

The color drained from his face as my words sank in. His dark eyes filled with unmistakable anguish. He reached for me again, but I stepped back.

"Yunifer, please," he said, his voice breaking. "I know what I did was unforgivable. I'll spend every day for the rest of my life trying to make it right if you'll just give me a chance."

"I didn't realize until you were gone—I've fallen in love with you. Without you, there's nothing. My life is just… empty."

"I've cut Laria out completely. Told her if she ever comes near either of us again, I'll destroy her."

"And my mother—" He ran his hands through his disheveled hair. "She won't be a problem anymore. You'll be the only Mrs. Reed who matters. The entire staff will answer directly to you."

His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "Please. One more chance. That's all I'm asking for. Please."