Chapter 6 I Built It

• Marisol
• Dominic never comes to the guest house himself. He sends people. Always has. The second I hear his car on the gravel instead of a driver’s, I know why he’s here.
• I’m sitting at the small table with my laptop open and a cup of coffee I haven’t touched yet when the door opens without a knock.
• Dominic walks in like he still owns the place.
• His sleeves are rolled up. He looks pissed — The kind of anger he uses when he thinks intimidation will do the work for him.
• “You want to explain something to me?” he asks.
• I look up. “Good morning.”
• He stops just inside the door. His eyes flick to the laptop. Then back to my face.
• “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t play calm with me.”
• “I’m not playing,” I say. “I am calm.”
• He lets out a short breath through his nose. “One of the accounts is frozen.”
• I don’t respond.
• “The logistics holding account,” he continues. “My lawyer says he can’t access it.”
• I tilt my head slightly. “That’s unfortunate.”
• His jaw tightens. “That account doesn’t move without my authorization.”
• “It used to,” I say.
• His eyes narrow. “What did you do?”
• I close my laptop and set my hands flat on the table. Not defensive. Just finished.
• “I didn’t do anything to you,” I say. “I did what I always did.”
• “That’s not an answer.”
• “It is.”
• He steps closer. “You don’t get to touch my money.”
• I finally stand.
• “Your money,” I repeat. “That’s interesting.”
• “This isn’t a game, Marisol.”
• “No,” I agree. “It never was.”
• He drags a hand through his hair. “You altered ownership structures.”
• I shrug. “You approved them.”
• “I didn’t sign anything.”
• “You didn’t read anything,” I correct.
• Silence hits hard between us.
• “You’re telling me you planned this,” he says slowly.
• “I’m telling you I paid attention.”
• “That’s not the same thing.”
• “It is when one person stops showing up.”
• His eyes flick away for half a second. Just long enough.
• “You had no right,” he snaps.
• I laugh once. Quiet. Not amused. “You married me. You put me in the room. You let me handle things because you didn’t want to be bothered. That was the right.”
• “You were supposed to support me.”
• “I did.”
• “Not like this.”
• “Like what?” I ask. “Competently?”
• He steps closer again, stopping just short of my space. “You’re doing this to punish me.”
• “No,” I say. “I’m doing this because you thought I wouldn’t notice.”
• “That’s bullshit.”
• “Is it?” I ask. “Because you stopped caring along time ago.”
• “That has nothing to do with this.”
• “It has everything to do with this.”
• He clenches his jaw. “You’re acting like a victim.”
• “I’m acting like your wife,” I say. “The one you replaced.”
• “I didn’t replace you.”
• I look at him. “You brought her into our life.”
• “That doesn’t mean—”
• “You don’t get to rewrite it,” I cut in. “You made a choice. I accepted it.”
• “And this is how you accept it?” he demands. “By sabotaging me?”
• “I didn’t sabotage you,” I say calmly. “I stopped protecting you.”
• His expression shifts. Not anger. Not disbelief.
• Understanding.
• “You handled more than I realized,” he says quietly.
• “Yes.”
• “How much?”
• I don’t answer.
• “Marisol,” he says, lower now. “How much control do you have?”
• I meet his eyes. “Enough.”
• He exhales slowly. “You need to fix this.”
• “I don’t.”
• “You’re putting yourself in danger.”
• “I was already there.”
• “You think this ends well for you?”
• I step closer this time. Just enough that he has to look at me.
• “You think it was ending well before?” I ask.
• Silence again.
• “This doesn’t have to get ugly,” he says.
• “It already did,” I reply. “You just didn’t feel it yet.”
• His phone buzzes in his hand. He looks down. Reads the message.
• Something tight crosses his face.
• “Who pulled out?” I ask.
• He looks up sharply. “You sent that.”
• “Yes.”
• “You had no right.”
• “I didn’t tell them to leave,” I say. “I just stopped telling them to stay.”
• He stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
• “You really don’t care if this ruins me,” he says.
• I think about it.
• “No,” I say honestly. “I care that you finally see me.”
• That’s the moment he realizes he miscalculated.
• Not the accounts.
• Not the allies.
• Me.
• He steps back, once. Then again.
• “I’ll be in touch,” he says.
• “I’m sure you will.”
• He leaves without another word.