POV: Isabelle
The bedroom door swings open.
I press myself against the wall, holding my breath, praying the darkness hides me.
Adrian steps into the doorway. His eyes scan the room, looking right past where I'm frozen in the corner.
"Must have been the streetlight," he mutters.
He turns back to Vanessa, and I hear them laughing as they move to the couch. The moment Adrian's back is turned, I slip out of the bedroom and run.
I don't stop running until I'm three blocks away, gasping for air, my leg braces feeling like chains I can't wait to rip off.
My phone rings. Marcus.
"I'm coming to get you," he says before I can speak. "Where are you?"
I tell him the street corner, and within minutes, a black car pulls up. But it's not Marcus who gets out.
It's my mother.
Grace Ashford stands on the sidewalk in an expensive coat, her eyes red from crying. When she sees me, she runs—actually runs—and pulls me into her arms.
"My baby," she sobs. "My beautiful baby girl."
I break down completely. Three years of holding everything in comes pouring out on a street corner while my mother holds me like I'm five years old again.
"I'm sorry," I gasp. "I'm so sorry I left. I thought he loved me. I thought—"
"Shh. You're coming home now. That's all that matters."
Marcus pulls up in another car. Between him and Mom, they get me into the vehicle. I'm still wearing the stupid leg braces. Still playing a part that just cost me everything.
"Take them off," Marcus says gently. "You never have to wear them again."
I unbuckle the braces with shaking hands and drop them on the car floor. My legs look pale and weak from three years of pretending, but they're mine. They work perfectly.
Mom stares at them, then at me. "You really did it. You really pretended all this time."
"I wanted to know if he'd love me for me," I whisper. "Not for money or status or what I could give him."
"And now you know," Marcus says coldly. "He's a snake who deserves everything that's coming."
The car drives through the city toward the Ashford estate. I haven't seen it in three years. As we pass through the gates, I see lights blazing from every window.
"What's happening?"
"Your welcome home party," Mom says, wiping her tears. "Everyone's been waiting."
Inside, my family surrounds me. Cousins I haven't seen in years. My grandmother, who cries and scolds me in the same breath. Aunts and uncles who hug me so tight I can barely breathe.
"We missed you so much," my cousin Sophie whispers. "It wasn't the same without you."
That night, I sleep in my childhood bedroom. Real silk sheets. A mattress that doesn't sag. Windows that overlook gardens instead of a parking lot.
I should feel relief. Victory. Something.
Instead, I feel hollow.
The next morning, Marcus comes to my room with coffee and a folder.
"Divorce papers are ready. I had our lawyers work overnight." He sits on my bed like he used to when we were kids. "I also made a list of every contract Adrian's firm has. They're all Ashford contracts, Izzy. Every single one. We've been keeping him afloat without him knowing."
"Why?"
"Because you loved him. We wanted you to be happy." Marcus's jaw tightens. "But that ends today. I'm canceling everything. His firm will be bankrupt by Friday."
"That feels too easy," I say quietly.
"Easy?" Marcus laughs without humor. "Izzy, destroying him is just the beginning. I want him to understand exactly what he threw away. I want him on his knees, begging for forgiveness he'll never get."
My phone buzzes. A text from Adrian: "Where are you? We need to talk."
"He knows," I whisper.
"Of course he knows. I visited him this morning." Marcus smiles coldly. "I told him everything. About who you really are. About the fake disability. About how every success he's ever had came from us."
"What did he say?"
"He turned white as a ghost. Then he started making excuses." Marcus's voice turns dangerous. "He actually tried to explain why sleeping with your best friend wasn't as bad as it looked."
My stomach twists. "And Vanessa?"
"Still texting him about tonight. She has no idea the money's gone. She thinks she's about to become the wife of a successful architect." Marcus shows me his phone with Vanessa's messages to Adrian. "She's in for a surprise."
I stare at the messages. At the woman I trusted completely, planning her future with my husband.
"I want to confront them," I say suddenly. "Both of them. Together."
"Izzy—"
"They humiliated me. They laughed about me. They used me." My voice gets stronger with each word. "I want them to see who I really am. I want to watch their faces when they realize what they've lost."
Marcus studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Okay. But we do this my way. With witnesses. With proof. We make it so devastating that they'll never recover."
"How?"
"There's a charity gala tonight. All the major business people in the city will be there. Including Adrian's clients—well, former clients." Marcus grins. "And I happen to have two extra tickets."
"He won't come. He'll know it's a trap."
"He will if he thinks it's his last chance to save his firm. What if he gets an anonymous email saying a major investor wants to meet him there? That there's a contract worth millions on the table?"
I think about Adrian in his cheap suit, walking into a room full of the city's elite. Thinking he's about to save everything. Then seeing me.
"Do it," I say.
Marcus makes a call. Within minutes, it's arranged. Adrian will get an email from a fake investor account. Vanessa will be his plus-one because she'll insist on coming to his "big meeting."
"What do I wear?" I ask. After three years of baggy clothes and broken dreams, I don't even know who I am anymore.
Mom appears in the doorway like she was listening the whole time. "I have the perfect dress. And the family jewels. And a team of people who are going to make you look like the queen you are."
The rest of the day is a blur. Hair stylists. Makeup artists. A dress that costs more than six months rent at my old apartment. Diamond earrings that belonged to my grandmother.
When I look in the mirror, I don't recognize myself.
The woman staring back is powerful. Beautiful. Nothing like the girl who limped around an apartment, begging for scraps of affection.
"He's going to die when he sees you," Sophie breathes.
"Good," I say.
At seven o'clock, our car pulls up to the gala. Cameras flash. Reporters shout questions. Everyone wants to know where the Ashford heiress has been for three years.
Marcus helps me out of the car, and the cameras go crazy.
Inside, the ballroom is filled with everyone who matters in this city. People I grew up with. Business partners. Society families.
And there, near the bar, looking nervous in a suit that's too cheap for this crowd, is Adrian.
Vanessa hangs on his arm in a red dress, smiling like she's already won.
Neither of them has seen me yet.
Marcus squeezes my hand. "Ready?"
"Ready."
We start walking toward them. People notice me and whisper. The whispers spread like wildfire.
"Is that Isabelle Ashford?"
"I heard she was dead!"
"She's walking perfectly—wasn't she disabled?"
Adrian hears my name and turns around.
Our eyes meet across the ballroom.
I watch the color drain from his face. Watch his mouth fall open. Watch the moment he realizes the wife he threw away is standing in front of him wearing diamonds and confidence and absolutely no leg braces.
Vanessa follows his stare and sees me. Her face goes from confusion to recognition to pure terror in three seconds.
I walk straight up to them on my perfectly healthy legs, my heels clicking on the marble floor.
"Hello, Adrian," I say. "We need to talk."
But before Adrian can respond, before anyone can move, a woman's scream cuts through the ballroom.
Everyone turns.
A security guard is escorting someone out—someone who's fighting and shouting.
"Let me go! I have proof! I have evidence!"
I squint at the woman and my blood turns to ice.
It's Adrian's secretary, Emily.
And she's holding a folder with my name on it.
"I know what you did, Isabelle Ashford!" Emily screams across the ballroom. "I know about the money! About the contracts! You've been manipulating everything from the start!"
The entire room goes silent.
Everyone is staring at me now, questions in their eyes.
Marcus moves to intercept, but Emily throws the folder. Papers scatter across the floor—bank statements, emails, transaction records.
Adrian picks one up. His hands shake as he reads it.
Then he looks at me with something worse than anger.
He looks at me with betrayal.
"You've been controlling everything," he whispers. "My contracts. My success. My entire life." His voice rises. "You manipulated me from the beginning!"
The crowd murmurs. Cameras flash.
And I realize, too late, that my revenge just turned into my worst nightmare.