Elena lowered her eyes.
That night, she slept at the edge of the bed, wrapped tight in the blanket, her body angled away from mine. When I reached for her hand, she flinched so violently I felt something inside me crack.
“Are you seeing someone?” I asked, hating myself for the words.
Her face collapsed, but she said nothing.
The next day I found deleted messages on her old phone: money transfers, legal appointments, a photograph of a document signed with her trembling signature. My name appeared on it too, but I had signed nothing. The family house. My investments. The small company Elena and I had built before I enlisted. Everything had been transferred to a shell business under Ricardo’s control.
That night, I lifted the blanket, searching for proof of betrayal.
Instead, I found bruises blooming across her ribs, purple fingerprints on her arms, and healing marks along her back.
My breath left me.
“Who did this to you?” I whispered.
Her tears spilled silently. “Your mother and your brother forced me to sign everything over.”
The room turned cold.
Outside the window, Mother’s voice floated from the garden, laughing with Ricardo over champagne.
