Page 24 of October
"It's not just about packing a bag or closing a door. It's about severing the invisible threads that have woven themselves into your very being. You stay because the silence between fights feels safer than the silence of an empty home. Because the echoof their footsteps, even in anger, is less frightening than the echo of none at all.
You stay because the idea of starting over feels like learning to breathe underwater. Because the memories of better times whisper that maybe, just maybe, those days will return."
You stay because your identity has become entangled with theirs, and untangling it feels like losing a part of yourself. Because the fear of the unknown looms larger than the pain you've come to know so well.
But staying comes at a cost. A slow erosion of self-worth, a gradual dimming of your inner light."
Another breath. A bitter laugh, tight in her throat.
"Last night... ", she paused, her voice trembling with the weight of betrayal. "He didn't just betray me in private; he made a spectacle of it. In front of everyone, he stripped away the façade, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. The man I thought I knew—the one who whispered promises and held my hand through storms—was a mirage. A carefully constructed illusion that shattered under the harsh light of truth."
Her eyes welled with tears,"It's as if I was dancing alone, believing in a duet. Every memory, every touch, now feels tainted. The laughter we shared echoes with mockery, and the silence between us was filled with unspoken lies."
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "The hardest part isn't the betrayal itself, but the understanding that I loved someone who never truly existed. I mourn not just the relationship, but the loss of my own reality."
Her voice softened, filled with a mix of sorrow and resilience. "But in this devastation, there's a sliver of clarity. A painful awakening."
There was a long silence.
Jeanine's jaw tightened. Her hands unclasped and fell into her lap, palms up. Empty.
"James mistook my love for permission. My forgiveness for silence. My grace for consent. He underestimated me. But I was never blind. I saw everything. And now, I hold the keys to his kingdom."
She leaned in, her voice sharper now. Colder.
"You want to know something?" she said, eyes fixed ahead, voice low but unwavering. "He's always thought I was weak. Sweet. Decorative. Someone to show off at fundraisers and ignore at board meetings. He thought I was stupid. But I wasn't. In the silence, I was sharpening my knives."
She turned to look at me then, her gaze piercing. "Years ago, I started moving money, tiny amounts at first, amounts no one would question. Just enough to disappear into the noise. I funneled them into accounts he doesn't even know exist, in banks that don't ask too many questions, in places where my name stands alone. I hired my own lawyers, not the polished ones he parades around, but quiet sharks—discreet, loyal only to me. Everything was off the books. No paper trails, no names that could be traced back to him. And while he was busy pretending I was oblivious, I changed the terms of the trust. The very one he thought would bind me forever. I rewrote the clauses, buried them under legal complexity so dense he'd need a team of forensic accountants just to understand what he lost.
I didn't stop there. I shifted the ownership structures of the properties—every house, every piece of land, even the one his father built with his bare hands. On paper, it still looked like his kingdom—but in truth, the ground beneath his feet had already begun to shift."
I sat in stunned silence, the weight of her confession sinking in.
"But the money's only one piece," she continued, her voice steady now, sharper—like a blade that had finally been unsheathed. "The real power was in the truth. And I collected it, bit by bit, year after year, like a woman gathering kindling—knowing someday, there would be a fire."
She leaned in slightly, her eyes fierce, unwavering.
"I documented everything. Every lie, every transaction.. I took screenshots when he wasn't looking. Recorded conversations under the hum of small talk. I kept emails, voicemails, drafts he thought he deleted. I even paid someone to pull the server backups. Nothing is gone—not really. It all lives somewhere. And now... it lives with me."
Her breath caught, but she kept going, her voice rising with the weight of years unspoken.
"I know about the shell companies. The ones buried three layers deep behind corporate facades with meaningless names and dead-end addresses. I know about the falsified contracts, the ones he doctored to siphon funds through back channels. I traced the offshore accounts—Belize, Luxembourg, even that one hidden under a cousin's name in the Caymans. He thought he was untouchable."
She smiled then—cold, tired, triumphant.
"I know the aliases he used. The fake charities set up to launder money under the guise of generosity. I know about the bribes—the judges, the city officials, the procurement boards. The wire fraud, the tax evasion. It's all there. Dated, backed up, printed, locked away in places he'll never find.
A bitter smile played on her lips.
"He thought he was the puppeteer, but I was the one pulling the strings. And now, the show is over."
Then she added, calm, controlled.
"Now, I'm going to join Thomas."
My breath caught. "What?"
She smiled faintly. "Join Thomas. To bring James down. He has recently discovered the truth, when he finally decided to make the right choice."
