28. Valentina
— ? —
Valentina
“You shouldn’t have fired her because of me.”
Eric and I are in his kitchen, the city glowing through the wide windows behind him.
It has been a while since the Sophia mess - since I overheard what she did, since I confronted her in the hallway and told her to stay away, since I told Eric not to fire her for my sake.
I only found out today that he fired her anyway.
Quietly. Days after that confrontation. Marianna told me this morning over the phone, said Sophia just stopped appearing on the schedule one week.
No announcement, no goodbye, nothing. Gone.
Now the knowledge is sitting between us on the marble like a third person.
“I didn’t fire her because of you.” He hands me a mug.
“That’s exactly what it looks like.”
“I fired her because she violated multiple company policies, sold confidential information to the press, and created a hostile work environment for other employees.”
“I told you I didn’t want blood.”
“And I didn’t make a scene.” His voice stays even, but his hands are braced on the counter like he needs the anchor. “No humiliation. No speech. She was gone clean. That was the compromise.”
I stare at my coffee. It’s gone cold.
“It still feels like you did it for me.”
“I did it for the line she crossed,” he says. “You just happened to be standing on the other side of it. She was going to be fired regardless. The only question was when.”
“But you accelerated it.”
“Yes.”
“Because of me.”
He sets down his mug. Crosses to me. His hands land on my thighs, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Your problems are my problems now,” he says quietly. “That’s how this works. I don’t protect you because I think you can’t protect yourself. I protect you because I want to. Because the thought of anyone hurting you makes me want to burn the world down.”
“That’s very dramatic.”
“I’m a dramatic person.”
I laugh. He doesn’t.
His hands slide higher. Up my thighs. Under the hem of the shirt.
“I’ve been thinking about you all morning,” he murmurs. “About last night. About the sounds you made when I was inside you.”
Heat floods through me.
“Eric…”
“I want to hear those sounds again.” His thumb finds the edge of my underwear. “I want to make you come until you forget your own name.”
“We have to be at the courthouse in three hours.”
“That’s plenty of time.”
He pulls me off the counter. Carries me to the bedroom. Lays me down on sheets that still smell like both of us.
This time is different.
He undresses me like I’m something precious, kissing each inch of skin as he reveals it. His mouth finds the scar on my knee from when I fell off my bike at seven. The birthmark on my hip. The stretch marks on my thighs that I’ve always hated.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs against each one. “Every part of you. Beautiful.”
By the time he finally slides inside me, I’m shaking. Not from cold. From the intensity of being seen like this.
“You’re safe,” he whispers as he moves inside me. “You’re safe with me. I’ve got you.”
I come with tears on my cheeks and his name on my lips.
***
The courthouse is the same. Cold. Gray. Full of ghosts.
But I’m different.
I walk in with my spine straight and my head high. Eric is beside me, not touching, just present. Patricia Vance is waiting at the door.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Ready.”
The hearing room is smaller than last time. Same fluorescent lights. Same smell of old paper and older grief. But the energy is different.
Sebastian is already seated. He looks tired. Older somehow, like the last few months have finally caught up with him. Gloria is beside him, but her pearls look duller today, her smile more brittle. And Vicky…
Vicky isn’t looking at Sebastian.
She’s looking at me.
The proceedings are brief. Patricia presents her evidence: the financial records, the property documentation, the proof of my contributions to everything Sebastian claimed as his own. Sebastian’s lawyer objects. The judge overrules.
“Based on the evidence presented,” the judge says, “the court finds that Mrs. Montero is entitled to a significant portion of the marital assets, including equity in the property and investment accounts to which she contributed.”
Sebastian’s face goes white.
Gloria’s mouth opens, then closes. She looks, for the first time since I’ve known her, speechless.
“The final division will be detailed in the written judgment,” the judge continues.
“But I want to be clear: this court does not look favorably on attempts to deprive a spouse of assets to which they are legally entitled. Mr. Montero, I suggest you work with your counsel to reach a fair settlement. Otherwise, this will be decided for you.”
The gavel comes down.
It’s over.
Outside the courthouse, the sun is shining. I stand on the steps, breathing in air that tastes like freedom.
“Valentina.”
I turn. Vicky is there, alone, her arms wrapped around herself.
“I just wanted to say…” She stops. Starts again. “I’m not going to apologize. I know you wouldn’t believe me anyway. But I wanted you to know that I didn’t… I didn’t know about the money. The accounts. The way he was trying to leave you with nothing.”
“Would it have mattered if you did?”
She flinches. “Probably not. I was… I thought I loved him. I thought he loved me.” She laughs, a bitter sound. “He’s already looking at someone else. I saw the texts. Different name, same pattern.”
I should feel satisfaction. Vindication. Instead, I just feel tired.
“You should leave him,” I say. “Before he does to you what he did to me.”
“I know.” She meets my eyes. “For what it’s worth, I understand now. Why you slapped me that day. I would have done the same thing.”
She walks away. I watch her go.
Eric appears at my side.
“You okay?”
“I think so.” I take his hand. “I won. I actually won.”
“You did.” He squeezes my fingers. “How does it feel?”
I think about the last year. The motel. The restaurant. The fear and the shame and the slow, painful process of rebuilding myself from nothing.
“It feels like I can finally breathe,” I say.
He pulls me into his arms right there on the courthouse steps, where anyone can see.
“Let’s go home,” he says.
Home.
The word doesn’t feel like a threat anymore.
It feels like a promise.