Chapter 5: The Aftermath
The press conference was scheduled for 10:00 AM.
By the time I walked into the building, every major media outlet was already there.
Cameras. Microphones. Journalists pushing against the ropes.
Rosa was waiting for me in the green room.
"Ready?"
"No."
"You're lying."
"Fine. Yes."
She pulled me into a hug.
"You look beautiful."
"I look like someone hit me in the face."
"That's the point."
I touched my cheek. The bruise had faded to a sickly purple-green. It would be visible on camera.
Good.
I wanted everyone to see what Andrew Whitmore did to his wife.
"Why is this so hard?" I asked. "He deserves everything I'm doing to him."
"Doesn't make it easy."
"I keep thinking about the first time I saw him. The first night we met. He was so..."
"Charming?"
"Charming."
"Charming is easy," Rosa said. "Charming is the easiest thing a man can be. The hard part is being good."
"And he wasn't good."
"No. He wasn't."
The door opened.
My father walked in.
"It's time, Mariana."
I stood up.
Straightened my dress.
Walked out.
The room erupted.
Cameras flashed. Reporters shouted. Everyone wanted a piece.
I walked to the podium.
Looked out at the crowd.
"Good morning."
The room quieted down.
"Over the past twenty-four hours, a series of events has occurred that I'm certain many of you have heard about."
Murmurs.
"I'm here to clarify those events."
I took a breath.
"First, I'd like to address the rumors about my marriage. It is true that I am divorcing Andrew Whitmore. This decision was not made lightly."
Andrew's photo flashed on the screens.
The reporters leaned in.
"The reason for the divorce is simple. My husband has been unfaithful to me for the majority of our relationship. He has been physically abusive. He has been emotionally abusive. And he has systematically attempted to erase every shred of my identity."
The murmurs grew louder.
"When I married Andrew, I believed I was marrying someone who loved me. Someone who would protect me. Someone who would build a life with me."
I paused.
"I was wrong."
More murmurs.
"Andrew did not build the life we shared. I did. Every investment. Every contract. Every account. Every asset—it was all mine."
Silence.
"What I'm saying is that Andrew Whitmore has no money. No property. No business. No power. Everything he ever claimed to own was provided by me."
Reporters scrambled.
Pens moved frantically.
"And the empire he was so proud of? It's mine now. Every single piece of it."
I looked into the cameras.
"I'm not here to ask for pity. I'm not here to ask for sympathy. I'm here to tell the truth."
A reporter raised his hand.
"Mrs. Escalante—can you tell us how long you've been planning this?"
"Four years."
"Four years?"
"I gave Andrew every opportunity to change. I gave him every opportunity to treat me like a person. He chose otherwise."
"Mrs. Escalante, you said Andrew was physically abusive. Can you elaborate?"
I touched my cheek.
"He slapped me in front of his mistress last night. Told me to kneel. Humiliated me in front of his entire household."
Gasps.
"I have the footage. I have the witness statements. I have everything."
"Will you press charges?"
I paused.
"My lawyers and I are currently exploring all options."
Another reporter shouted.
"Mrs. Escalante, what would you say to Andrew now?"
I looked at the camera.
"Andrew, I'm not angry with you."
I paused.
"I'm disappointed."
"He didn't build anything. He didn't earn anything. He didn't achieve anything. He was just someone who got lucky. And he wasted that luck."
That would hit him harder than anything else.
"I hope he finds peace," I said. "I hope he finds closure. But he won't find it with me. Because I'm done."
I stepped back from the podium.
The reporters erupted.
But I was already walking away.
Rosa met me at the door.
"That was incredible."
"I didn't feel incredible."
"You looked incredible."
I laughed.
"You have such a way with words."
Rosa grinned.
She grabbed my hand.
"Come on. Let's get out of here before they try to interview you in the bathroom."
We walked out of the building.
The street was quiet.
"Where to now?"
I thought about it.
"Home."
"Home?"
"I want to see my mother."
Rosa nodded.
"Let's go."
The car ride to my mother's house was silent.
I watched the city change.
The buildings got smaller. The streets got narrower. The people got older.
Finally, we pulled up to a small house.
I got out.
Walked to the door.
Knocked.
My mother opened it.
She looked at me.
At my face.
At my eyes.
"Mariana?"
"I'm home."
May you like
She pulled me into her arms.
And for the first time in four years, I felt safe.
