She brushed a curl from Caitlin’s forehead, softer now.
“You survived tonight, Cate. That’s what matters.”
Caitlin sagged against her, exhaustion dragging her under. Izzy held her close, staring at the city lights beyond the glass, fury simmering beneath her calm.
She’d never thought Jason West capable of this—the golden boy of Denver construction, builder of palaces, breaker of lives. But he was going to wish he’d never laid a hand on her.
Outside, Denver glittered—oblivious. Inside, under the dim glow of a single lamp, one woman shook, and another kept watch.
Chapter 7
Unraveling
Caitlin
The hiss of the espresso machine barely reached her.
Caitlin sat in the corner, fingers tracing the rim of her cup. The world around her moved in slow motion—laughter, clinking dishes—but it all felt distant, like she was watching life happen through a window she couldn’t open.
It had been three months since her world first cracked open. For a while, she believed she could fix it. Jason had said all the right things—I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. You make me better.He brought roses, booked dinners, promised therapy that never happened.
For weeks, she clung to the lie because the alternative—that everything she’d built was a façade—was too hard to face. But she’d always known, deep down. He didn’t love her. He loved control—the house, the image, the way she made him look successful. He loved being Jason West, the man with the perfect wife and the perfect life.
When he hit her, something inside her splintered. The shock wasn’t just from the pain but from the revelation: it was all fake.Every anniversary toast, every polished smile at a charity gala, every whisperedI love youwas a performance.
When she said she wanted out, he didn’t plead this time. He just stared at her like she was a problem to erase.You’ll never leave me alive.
That was the night she stopped believing anything about him—or the world he came from—was real.
The next morning, she sat across from Amelia West in a quiet corner of the Village Bistro, praying for some sign of humanity. Maybe a mother could talk sense into her son. Maybe Amelia could make him see.
Caitlin told her everything—the shouting, the bruises, the nights she’d locked herself in the bathroom. It hurt to force the words out. Amelia listened, perfectly composed, napkin folded neatly in her lap.
Not once did her expression change—not even when Caitlin’s voice faltered. Her diamond bracelet caught the light as she reached for her water glass, the ice clinking softly against the crystal—an elegant, indifferent sound in the silence between them.
Caitlin waited for compassion that never came.
When she finished, Amelia smiled—gentle, practiced, hollow.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly. “Men like Jason have… pressures. Expectations. Sometimes we must be strong enough to overlook their mistakes. If you can do that, you and Jason can have a lovely life. That’s how Mr. West and I have managed all these years.”
The words hit harder than any slap. In that moment, Caitlin saw them all for what they were—actors in the same performance. The money, the mansion, the charm—it was a stage built on silence.
She walked out of the restaurant numb, sunlight too bright, her reflection in every glass door a stranger’s face.
By the time she called Izzy, her voice shook, but her decision didn’t.
“I’m done,” she said. “Help me get out.”
Izzy
The door swung open, and Caitlin looked up as Izzy Moreno stepped into the café, a binder tucked under one arm. Her expression tightened the moment their eyes met.
Sliding into the booth, Izzy reached across the table and took Caitlin’s hand.
“Hey. Look at me,” she said softly. “You’re safe right now, okay? We’ll figure this out.”
Caitlin’s voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t even recognize him anymore, Iz. The man I married—the life I thought I had—it’s all fake. Every bit of it. And his mother just sat there at lunch, smiling, telling me to overlook it like that’s what good wives do.”
