Mariana didn't sleep that night. She sat curled up in the corner of the small motel room, staring at the dusty curtains as rain traced thin lines across the windowpane. Her mind spun around Bianca's words, the note left in her bag, and the heavy silence that followed James' disappearance. Every layer she peeled back revealed another betrayal.
The pain in her chest didn't come from heartbreak anymore. It came from clarity.
She stood up and picked up the burner phone she'd bought days ago, dialing the only number she trusted now.
"It's time," she said when the voice answered.
"Are you sure?" came the low voice on the other end. "There's no turning back."
"I don't want to turn back."
The call ended. Mariana stared at the reflection of herself in the mirror, no longer the innocent bride who believed in forever. She was something else now. Wiser. Angrier. Stronger.
Two days later, she walked into an underground club on the outskirts of the city. It was dimly lit, the air thick with cigarette smoke and betrayal. A man approached her, with tensed shoulders and wary eyes. He didn't recognize her. Good.
"You said you had information," he growled.
Mariana slid a flash drive across the table. "Proof that James Wilmont forged contracts to steal from the Carter Foundation."
The man froze. "You know what this means?"
"I do. And I have more. This is just the beginning."
Bianca had warned her. Mariana wasn't just uncovering a marital lie. She was about to pull the mask off a powerful syndicate hiding behind legal businesses. James was just one face of it.
She left the club and returned to the motel, finding a letter shoved under her door.
You're getting too close. Stay out of things that don't concern you.
There was no signature. Just a black line drawn across the paper.
Mariana folded it neatly and placed it in the Bible drawer next to the bed. She wasn't backing out.
The next morning, she drove back into the city using a different car, wearing a dark wig and sunglasses. She checked into a different hotel. Every step was calculated. Every contact is encrypted.
Her next stop was a cafe in Midtown. Bianca sat alone, sipping coffee, her posture elegant but tense. Mariana joined her silently.
"They know," Mariana said.
"They always know," Bianca replied. "That's why we move faster. Did you get the file on Damien?"
Mariana handed over another flash drive. "It links him to an offshore account used to siphon donations."
Bianca slipped it into her purse. "And the photos?"
"In the envelope. He was with Sienna last night."
Bianca smirked. "Of course he was."
They paused as the waitress refilled their drinks. When she left, Bianca leaned in.
"Your name will be dragged through fire. Are you ready for that?"
"They already burned me. Now I'm just returning the favor."
Later that day, Mariana stood outside the gates of her family's old estate. It had been abandoned for years, but it held something she needed. Proof of her father's warnings. The letters he wrote before his mysterious accident. Photos. Account books. Records no one thought she knew about.
The gate creaked open. Inside, the house smelled of dust and silence. She moved through the halls like a shadow, opening drawers, flipping through folders, and snapping pictures. Her past and present were finally coming together. The lies weren't just about James. They reached deeper, into bloodlines and old money.
She wasn't surprised to see a black car parked across the street when she stepped outside.
A man stepped out.
Damien.
He leaned against the car and lit a cigarette.
"You're getting reckless, Mariana."
"And you're getting desperate."
He shrugged. "Desperation makes people dangerous."
She walked past him, refusing to flinch.
"Tell James I'll see him soon," she said over her shoulder.
Damien's smile faded.
As she drove off, her phone buzzed.
New wire transfer alert: $50,000 from Anonymous Source.
She didn't recognize the account. But she knew the message.
They were paying her to stop.
They underestimated her again.
She wasn't for sale.
Not anymore.
The storm that had begun in a white dress was far from over.
And Mariana was just getting started.