22. Valentina
— ? —
Valentina
The courthouse is colder than I expected.
Not the temperature, though that’s cold too, aggressive air conditioning that makes me wish I’d worn a jacket. It’s the atmosphere. The lights that wash everything gray. The smell of old paper and older grief. The way sound echoes off marble floors like the building itself is judging you.
Eric offered to come inside. I said no. Then I changed my mind in the car, and he didn’t say anything, just parked and walked beside me like it was always the plan.
He’s not in the hearing room, though. That I needed to do alone. Just me and Patricia Vance and the ghosts of four years of marriage.
Sebastian is already seated when I enter.
He looks good. I hate that he looks good. Tailored suit, fresh haircut, the confident posture of a man who’s never doubted himself a day in his life. Gloria is beside him, wearing pearls and a smile sharp enough to cut glass. And there, on his other side, is Vicky.
She’s different. Less polished smugness. Her hands keep twisting in her lap, and when our eyes catch, she looks away first.
Or maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I want to believe she feels something, anything, about what she did.
“Mrs. Montero.” The judge barely glances up. “Please be seated.”
I sit. Patricia squeezes my arm once, brief and firm.
The proceedings are dry. Legal language I barely understand. Motions and objections and phrases that sound important but feel like noise. I focus on breathing. On keeping my face neutral. On not letting Sebastian see how much this costs me.
Then Patricia starts presenting evidence.
The proceedings blur into noise. Dates. Names. Language designed to sand the blood off what he did.
I don’t track every word.I track them.
Sebastian’s ankle crossed, fingers tapping, until Patricia speaks.Gloria’s mouth painted into a permanent almost-smile.Vicky staring at the table like it might open and swallow her.
Patricia doesn’t speechify. She doesn’t need to. She places a thin stack of pages on the table with the quiet finality of a blade set down between us.
Sebastian’s lawyer starts to rise.
The judge lifts a hand.
“Enough.” Papers turn. A pause that stretches. “Mr. Montero, this is not going to be as tidy as your filings suggest. We’ll need a fuller picture before anyone leaves here believing they’ve already won.”
A win. Small, but real. Patricia nods at me almost imperceptibly.
Sebastian’s jaw flexes once. The confidence holds - barely - but something behind his eyes recalculates. Gloria’s smile thins until it looks cracked under the paint. Vicky’s throat moves when she swallows.
I breathe.For the first time since I walked in, my lungs listen.
Twenty minutes later it’s over. I leave the room with my spine straight and my head high, even though my legs feel like water.
In the hallway, I almost make it to the exit.
Almost.
“Valentina.”
Sebastian’s voice stops me cold.
I turn. He’s standing there, Gloria and Vicky flanking him like bodyguards. His smile is the same one he used to give me when he wanted something. The one I used to find charming.
“Still fighting,” he says. “I always admired that about you. Even when it was pointless.”
“Is there something you want, Sebastian?”
“Just to talk. We used to be good at that, remember?” He steps closer. “Before all this ugliness.”
“You created the ugliness.”
“Did I? Or did you just refuse to accept reality?” He reaches out. His fingers touch my chin, tilting my face up like he still has the right. “You were never going to be enough for me, Val. I tried to tell you. You just wouldn’t listen.”
I jerk away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Still so dramatic.” He laughs. “Is that what your new boyfriend likes about you? The drama? Or is it just the fact that you’re desperate enough to do whatever he wants?”
“You don’t know anything about him.”
“I know his type. Rich. Bored. Looking for a charity case to make himself feel good.” Sebastian leans in. “He’ll get tired of you. They always do. And when he does, you’ll have nothing. Again.”
“Get your hands off her.”
Eric’s voice cuts through the marble hallway like a blade.
He’s standing ten feet away. I don’t know how long he’s been there. But his face is carved from stone, and his eyes are fixed on Sebastian with something that looks a lot like murder.
Sebastian straightens. “Oh it’s him. The billionaire savior.”
“I said get your hands off her.”
“We were just talking.”
“You were touching her. I saw it.” Eric moves closer. Every step controlled. “Touch her again and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.”
They stand there, two men staring each other down in a courthouse hallway, and I can feel the tension like a physical weight.
Gloria steps forward. “Eric Bailey. I’ve heard of you.” Her smile is ice. “Impressive, what you’ve built. But don’t think money can buy you everything. Some things require breeding.”
“Some things require basic human decency,” Eric says flatly. “You wouldn’t know anything about that.”
Gloria’s face goes red.
Vicky hasn’t said a word. She’s watching me with that uncertain expression again, and for a moment, our eyes meet. Something passes between us. I don’t know what.
“We’re done here,” Eric says. His hand finds my elbow. “Let’s go.”
We walk out together. I don’t look back.
In the car, my hands won’t stop shaking.
“You were perfect,” Eric says quietly.
“I almost broke.”
“You didn’t.” He starts the engine but doesn’t move. Just sits there, watching me. “You walked into that room and faced them and didn’t shatter. That’s not almost breaking. That’s winning.”
I look at him. This man who showed up without being asked. Who stood between me and the people who destroyed me. Who’s sitting here now, patient and steady, while I fall apart.
“I looked for you,” I whisper. “The second I walked out of that room. I looked for you.”
“I know.”
“I hate that I needed to see you.”
“I know that too.”
His hand covers mine on the console. Warm. Solid. An anchor in a storm I didn’t know I was drowning in.
“Take me home,” I say.
He does.