I waited ten minutes before sitting up.

My hands were shaking—not from helplessness, but because every dark suspicion I had tried to rationalize for months had just solidified into cold fact.

For years, Daniel had treated me like a quiet piece of furniture in our house.

His sweet, complacent wife.

The one who didn’t raise her voice.

The one who, according to him, was far too sensitive for the ruthless realities of business.

What Daniel conveniently forgot was that before marrying him, I had spent twelve years working in corporate forensic auditing for my mother.