“There’s leftover rice in the fridge from last night.

Microwave that for yourself. And don’t keep calling my line, because I’ll be completely checked out with my family.”

I felt the hard edges of the coins dig deep into my palm. A primal part of me wanted to shriek, to weep, to beg someone in that bustling plaza to defend my dignity.

But Leo made a tiny, soft sound in his sleep, and I simply tightened my arms around him, protecting his peace.

The black SUV pulled away from the curb. Through the heavily tinted windows, I could see Dominic smiling widely while Natalie animatedly recounted a story from the front passenger seat.

That relaxed, complicit smile was an expression I hadn’t received from him in months.

The city bus arrived with a sharp, heavy screech of its air brakes.

Climbing the high metal steps was absolute torture. Every upward movement pulled violently at my stitches. The driver gave a brief, passing glance at my pale face and the newborn tucked beneath my cashmere shawl, but he said nothing.

I took a seat by the window, shielding my son from the vibrations of the road.

As the bus rattled through Manhattan, the last two years of my silence replayed in my mind.

Dominic had absolutely no idea who I truly was. He genuinely believed my father was a retired contractor with “a few decent plots of land” upstate and a modest local construction firm.

I had intentionally let him believe that story, completely convinced it would ensure he loved me for who I was, rather than for the heavy leverage of the Brooks surname.

In the beginning, Dominic had been incredibly attentive. Devoted. Ambitious, yes, but remarkably charming. But the exact moment his technology startup began securing substantial seed capital from major institutional funds, his nature inverted.