I thought about Brenda wearing my champagne dress, about Christopher letting her introduce herself as his wife, about the drugged cup of broth, about the chilling voice in the audio recording asking how to make a woman slowly disappear.

“I want to get my name and my dignity back,” I stated firmly.

Luke nodded. “Then go get dressed right now.”

I didn’t choose another evening gown. Instead, I put on a perfectly tailored black power suit, a crisp white silk blouse, and high heels. I pinned my dark hair up securely.

When I stood in front of the mirror, I didn’t see a humiliated, broken wife. I saw Lawrence Mendoza’s proud daughter.

We went downstairs together. Mrs. Higgins was crying silently by the door.