"Get in your car." Pedro's voice is clinical. Detached. "Drive back to the city. Don't contact Jessica again nor us."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I file charges. Assault. Harassment. Defamation. You'll spend the next several years in court, and by the time it's over, there won't be enough left of your reputation to salvage."
Silence.
The wind gusts, scattering leaves across the driveway, swirling around Callum's expensive shoes.
He looks at the house one more time. At the warm light glowing through the windows. At the life happening inside that no longer includes him.
Then he turns and walks back to his car.
The Mercedes purrs to life. Headlights sweep across the yard as he backs up, and I watch the red glow of taillights slide down the driveway until the darkness swallows them whole.
We stay there even after the engine fades to nothing, like we're waiting for something that's already gone.
"Think he'll be back?" Carlos's voice breaks the silence.
"No." Sergio shakes his head. "That was his last play. He's got nothing left."
"His mom might try something." Pedro crosses his arms.
"Nah.” I turn toward the house. "The story Rosa published yesterday had two million views before noon. The other women are scheduling interviews. The Morrison law firm is in damage control mode."
"Couldn't happen to nicer people." Carlos follows me up the porch steps. "You think Jess is okay?"
"Let's find out."
The living room is warm and golden, lit by table lamps and the dying embers of a fire. Jessica sits on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the flames. She looks smaller than she did outside. More vulnerable.
But when she looks up at us, her eyes are dry.
"He's gone?"
“Yes.” I cross to the couch and sit beside her. "For good, this time."
"You're sure?"
“Yeah.” I take her hand. Her fingers are cold, trembling slightly. "His father pulled his support. His family is cutting their losses. The story is too big, too public. They can't make it go away."
She nods slowly. Processing.
"I didn't feel anything." Her voice is quiet. Wondering. "When I was talking to him. I thought I would feel... something. Fear or anger or sadness. But there was nothing. Just... emptiness."
"That's okay." Sergio settles on her other side, arm wrapping around her shoulders. "That's normal."
"Is it?" She looks up at him. "I spent years with him. Shouldn't I feel more?"
Carlos drops onto the floor at her feet, head resting against her knee. “You were never happy with him, so you lost nothing and gained something more. Self-love.”
Pedro takes the armchair across from us, watching Jessica with careful eyes.
"Emotional detachment after the end of an abusive relationship is common." His voice is gentle. Clinical but warm. "Your brain is protecting you. Processing will come later."
"What if it doesn't?" Jessica's voice cracks. "What if I stay empty forever?"
"You won't." I squeeze her hand. "You're just... clearing space. Making room for something better."
