Chapter 10
The next three months were the hardest of my life.
And the best.
Hard because the stress was constant.
Lawyers.
Depositions.
Threats.
Michael’s lawyer filed motion after motion.
Trying to get evidence thrown out.
Trying to get the trial delayed.
Trying to paint me as the villain.
Every day there was something new.
A new lie in the press.
A new leak to the tabloids.
A new allegation.
But it was the best because I was free.
Truly free.
No more walking on eggshells.
No more wondering where Michael was.
No more pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.
I threw myself into my work.
The hotel project was my masterpiece.
Every room.
Every detail.
Every piece of furniture.
I designed it all with a single purpose.
To prove that no one could break me.
That every betrayal had only made me stronger.
More creative.
More determined.
The trial began on a cold Tuesday in January.
Chicago in winter is brutal.
The wind off the lake cuts right through you.
I walked into the courthouse surrounded by my family.
Dad on one side.
Mom on the other.
Uncle Tomas leading the way.
Carlos and his cousins flanking us like bodyguards.
Every aunt, uncle, and cousin who could make it was there.
Thirty Salazars.
All dressed in black.
All silent.
All fierce.
The press was waiting.
Cameras flashed.
Questions were shouted.
I didn’t answer any of them.
I kept my head high.
My back straight.
Michael was brought in ten minutes later.
Handcuffed.
In a prison jumpsuit.
He looked terrible.
Thin.
Pale.
His hair was a mess.
He’d lost the cocky smirk.
The entitled swagger.
He looked like what he was.
A defeated man.
His eyes met mine as they led him past.
For a second, I thought I saw something there.
Remorse?
Regret?
Then it was gone.
Replaced by pure, burning hatred.
The prosecution went first.
Dad testified for three days.
He laid out the fraud.
The numbers.
The accounts.
The forgeries.
Every detail.
Clear.
Precise.
Irrefutable.
The jury listened.
Took notes.
Nodded.
Then Diego testified.
He’d made a deal.
Full immunity on the worst charges in exchange for his testimony against Michael.
He told the jury everything.
How it had started.
How Michael had come to him three years earlier.
Complaining that I didn’t appreciate him.
That I controlled all the money.
That he deserved more.
How they’d planned it all together.
Step by step.
Dollar by dollar.
He cried on the stand.
Apologized to me.
To the family.
Said he’d been weak.
Stupid.
Gambling-addled.
I watched him without emotion.
I didn’t believe his tears.
I didn’t believe his apologies.
But I believed his testimony.
Because it was all true.
And the jury believed it too.
Then Vanessa testified.
She was good.
Better than I expected.
She told the jury about Michael selling the designs.
About the threats.
About The Sapphire Room.
About how Michael had bragged that he’d destroy me and take everything.
She showed the jury the USB drive evidence.
The emails.
The photos.
The jury hated her.
I could tell.
They saw her for what she was.
A gold digger.
A homewrecker.
But they believed her.
Because the evidence backed up every word.
Then it was my turn.
I took the stand on day eight.
The courtroom was silent.
Michael’s lawyer stood up.
He was a shark.
Expensive.
Ruthless.
Ready to tear me apart.
“Ms. Salazar,” he began, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Nine years of marriage. That’s a long time. A lot of history. A lot of love. Isn’t it possible… isn’t it likely… that when your husband left you for another woman, you snapped? That you fabricated all this evidence to get revenge? That you’d rather see an innocent man go to prison than admit you simply weren’t enough for him?”
The courtroom gasped.
Dad started to stand.
Uncle Tomas held him back.
I looked directly at the jury.
Then at Michael.
Then back at the lawyer.
And I told them everything.
From the beginning.
How I’d built my company.
How I’d met Michael.
How I’d loved him.
How I’d trusted him.
Every small betrayal.
Every large one.
The day I’d found the first text from Vanessa.
The day I’d filed for divorce.
The day outside the courthouse.
The night at The Sapphire Room.
The threats.
The assault in my office.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t yell.
I just told the truth.
Calmly.
Clearly.
Completely.
When I finished, the whole courtroom was quiet.
Even Michael’s lawyer had nothing left to say.
He had no more questions.
The trial ended the next day.
May you like
Closing arguments.
Then the jury went to deliberate.
