Chapter 6
Sunday dinner was tense.
The entire family showed up.
Thirty people packed into my parents’ house.
The dining room table was loaded with food.
But no one was eating.
All eyes were on the empty chair where Diego usually sat.
And on me.
My uncle Tomas—an attorney with forty years of experience—spoke first.
“I’ve reviewed the FBI’s evidence,” he said, laying a thick folder on the table. “Both Michael and Diego are looking at minimum fifteen years. Maximum twenty-five. The forged documents alone are ten years. Add the extortion, the wire fraud, the offshore accounts… they’re going away for a very long time.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
“Good,” my aunt Rosa said fiercely. “Traitors deserve everything they get.”
“But it’s not enough,” Uncle Tomas continued. “Criminal charges will put them in prison. But we need civil action to get Mari’s money back. Every last penny. Plus damages. Plus interest. Plus punitive damages for the emotional distress they’ve caused.”
Dad nodded.
“I’ve already frozen all their known assets. Every bank account. Every investment. The house Michael bought for Vanessa. The cars. The jewelry. Everything. We’ll get most of it back. But there’s something else we need to talk about.”
He looked at me.
“Michael still has access to your client list. Your vendor contracts. Your proprietary design plans. He could try to destroy your business from the inside before he goes to prison. Out of spite if nothing else. We need to lock everything down. Today.”
“I already did,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
“Friday night, right after the divorce, I didn’t just block the cards. I changed every server password. Revoked all remote access. Locked the client database. I even had the IT company come in Saturday morning to install new security systems. Michael hasn’t been able to log into anything since the divorce was final.”
A proud smile flickered across Dad’s face.
“Good girl.”
My cousin Carlos raised his hand.
“I talked to the building management at your office. I’ve got two of my guys parked outside 24/7. If Michael shows up, he doesn’t get within fifty feet of the door.”
“I changed the locks too,” I said.
Uncle Tomas leaned back in his chair.
“Then there’s only one thing left. The press.”
The room went quiet.
“Michael’s lawyer is already talking to reporters,” he said. “They’re going to paint Mari as the villain. The crazy ex-wife who couldn’t handle rejection. The rich bitch who’s trying to ruin two good men out of spite. They’ll leak lies. Half-truths. Out-of-context texts. They’ll try to destroy her reputation so her clients leave. So her business collapses. So when the civil trial happens, she looks like she’s already been punished enough.”
“Let them try,” I said.
Everyone stared.
“I’m not hiding,” I continued. “I’m not ashamed. I did nothing wrong. I loved my husband. I trusted my brother. They betrayed me. If Michael wants to go to the press… fine. I’ll tell my side. Every single detail. The fraud. The mistress. The three million dollars. The forged documents. The extortion. Let the public decide who the real villain is.”
Mom squeezed my hand.
“Are you sure, mija? This will be ugly. They’ll say terrible things about you.”
“I’m sure,” I said. “I’ve spent the last nine years shrinking myself to make Michael feel big. I’ve spent my whole life letting Diego be the golden child while I stood in the shadows. No more. I’m done being quiet. I’m done being polite. If they want a war… they’ve got one.”
Uncle Tomas smiled.
“That’s my niece. I’ll draft a statement tonight. We’ll release it tomorrow morning. And Mari… when the reporters come? Don’t hold anything back.”
Dinner started after that.
Slowly at first.
Then the conversation picked up.
Plans were made.
Strategies discussed.
And for the first time in years, I felt it.
Surrounded by people who loved me.
Who had my back.
Who would burn the world down before they let anyone hurt me again.
As I was leaving, my grandmother—eighty-eight years old and still sharper than anyone I knew—pulled me aside.
She pressed something cold into my palm.
A key.
“Your grandfather’s safe deposit box,” she said quietly. “There’s two hundred thousand dollars in there. Cash. No trail. No questions. For when you need it. To fight. To rebuild. To do whatever you have to do.”
May you like
“Abuela, I can’t—”
“Shhh,” she said, pressing my fingers closed around the key. “Family takes care of family. Those two boys forgot that. But we never will. Now go. And make them regret the day they ever crossed a Salazar woman.”
