Audrey, I said, recognizing her. Audrey from accounting. She looked at me, her eyes full of guilt.
He wasn’t supposed to be there that night, she said quietly. At the hotel. He was following me.
Suspicious? I asked, the pieces starting to fall into place. She nodded. When he saw who I was meeting, his client.
His client’s wife, I said, finishing the thought. Audrey let out a bitter laugh. Aiden caught us together.
He was drunk and angry. He started making threats about exposing everything. She paused, her voice shaking.
That’s when. When what? I pressed. When he called his friend, the guy who hit your car.
He asked him to scare his cheating client’s wife. Follow her car. Freak her out a little.
Her voice cracked. But the guy was high, confused. He followed the wrong car.
He followed you. The world spun around me. Aiden.
Aiden arranged the accident. Not yours. He didn’t mean to.
Audrey stood up, backing away. I just thought you should know before you disappear. I watched her hurry off.
My mind racing. All this time, I’d been planning to start over because of Aiden’s lies and betrayal. But now I knew the truth.
He wasn’t just unfaithful. He was the reason I’d lost everything. My phone buzzed.
It was Maxime. Surgery prep starts at 6 a.m. Are you ready? I stared at my reflection in the window of a passing car. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t just become someone new.
I’d become someone Aiden would never see coming. Ready, I typed back. But we need to change the plan.
Four months after my surgery, I stood outside our house in the rain. Unrecognizable. My new face, beautiful but completely different, felt like armor.
In my bag were the divorce papers, sharp and final, like weapons. I had planned this moment perfectly. It was Saturday evening, the night Aiden would be home from his client meeting at the Golden Leaf and Alyssa would be over for their weekly dinner, plotting my absence from their lives.
My keys still worked. I stepped inside quietly, hearing their voices coming from the dining room. The lawyers say if she doesn’t respond soon, we can move forward with the annulment, Alyssa was saying.
Really, Aiden, she added. It’s for the best. That accident was a blessing in disguise.
I stepped into the doorway and they froze mid-conversation. Hello, Aiden, I said calmly. He stared at me, blinking in confusion.
I’m sorry, who are you? I’m Michael Cressy, I said, using the name Maxime, and I had chosen. Maxime Cressy’s niece. I’m here about Bianca Griffin.
His wine glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor. Alyssa stood quickly, her instincts kicking in to manage the situation. Whatever this is about, she said, her voice firm, we can discuss it privately.
Can we? I asked, stepping forward. I placed the divorce papers on the table. Like you discussed arranging the accident that scarred your wife’s face? The color drained from Aiden’s face.
I don’t know what you’re talking about, he stammered. Audrey from accounting does, I said, holding his gaze as the truth hit him like a slap. I pulled out my phone and pressed play.
Aiden’s voice echoed through the room. Follow her car, scare her a little. That’s not, I never meant, Aiden stammered, his face pale.
You never meant for it to be me. I said, my voice calm and steady. Your pregnant wife, instead of your client’s cheating spouse.
Alyssa gasped, pregnant. Oh, he didn’t tell you that part. I said, turning to her.
About the grandchild you lost because your perfect son wanted to teach someone a lesson. Aiden whispered my name, finally looking past the new face and seeing something familiar in my eyes. I pulled out another document and placed it on the table.
This is a police report naming you as an accessory to the accident, I said. Audrey’s sworn statement is attached. I step closer.
Sign the divorce papers, I said softly, or everyone will find out the kind of man you really are. Aiden lunged for the police report, but his foot slipped on the spilled wine. He crashed into the China cabinet, glass shattering around him as he fell.
Aiden. Alyssa cried, rushing to help him, but he pushed her away. Blood dripped from a cut on his hand as he got to his feet.
You can’t prove anything, he hissed, but his eyes were full of panic. Can’t eyes, I replied, stepping back toward the door. Maxime Cressy’s legal team would disagree.
They’re very eager to make amends for his son’s part in this, especially now that they know who really orchestrated it. Wait. Aiden called as I reached the door.
Please, I’ll sign. Just don’t tell anyone. Like you didn’t tell anyone about our babies, I said, my voice cold.
Like you didn’t tell anyone you planned the accident. He looked at me, his face crumbling. I loved you, he said weakly.
No, I said, touching my new face. You loved what I looked like. There’s a difference.
I placed the divorce papers on the table and walked out into the rain. Behind me, I heard Alyssa’s shocked sobs and Aiden’s frantic explanations, but I didn’t look back. As I reached my car, my phone buzzed.
It was a message from Maxime. Is it done? I stared at the screen, unable to answer. The victory felt hollow, like ashes in my mouth.
I had what I came for, Aiden’s signature on the divorce papers, his perfect life falling apart, but it didn’t feel like a win. I walked past the spot where Aiden used to park, where he’d kiss me goodbye each morning. Past the garden where we had once dreamed of building a nursery.
Past all the plans and love that had died the night, he chose revenge over me. Another text lit up my phone, this time from an unknown number. You’re not the only one he hurt.
There are others. We should talk. I sat in my car, the rain drumming on the roof, staring at the message.
I thought exposing Aiden would feel like the end of something, but maybe it was just the start. The real question was, how far was I willing to go? The art gallery was buzzing with San Marcos elite, all here to see the work of the mysterious new artist everyone was talking about. My paintings lined the walls, faces twisted in pain and betrayal, beauty rising from darkness.
Each one was signed with my new name, Michael Cressy. I adjusted my dress, still not used to the way my new face and identity fit me. Then I saw him, Aiden.
He was standing in front of my centerpiece, a painting of a woman’s face split between light and shadow, a wine glass reflecting flames. Remarkable work, a voice said beside me. I turned to see a man with kind eyes and paint-stained hands.
I’m Colton Burpo, the gallery owner. He introduced himself, Claire. I replied, my focus slipping back to Aiden.
He was staring at the painting’s title, Saturday Nights at the Golden Leaf. Your pieces speak to transformation, Colton said, studying my work, pain becoming power, very personal. Before I could respond, Aiden’s voice cut through the crowd.
Where did you get your inspiration? His eyes were on me now, recognition flickering across his face. It had been four months since I’d handed him the divorce papers. He looked thinner, his once-perfect suit hanging loose on his frame.
Life experience, I said, meeting his gaze. Some people wear masks. I paint them.
Audrey, he whispered, my real name slipping out like a prayer or a curse. Colton looked between us, sensing something was wrong. You know each other? No, I said firmly.
Not anymore. Aiden grabbed my arm. We need to talk.