Chapter 1 - Keep Talking
Carmen Vega slapped Sofia on her wedding night because Sofia refused to sign away her condo.
The unsigned papers hit Sofia’s chest first.
A thick packet of legal pages.
Condo Transfer Agreement.
Warranty Deed.
Spousal Acknowledgment.
Sofia caught them against the torn lace bodice of her ivory wedding dress, then let them fall onto the white hotel bed.
The luxury Dallas suite glowed with city lights beyond the windows. Champagne glasses sat untouched on the nightstand. Her wedding bouquet lay beside one ivory heel. The other heel had been kicked beneath the bed during the argument.
Six women in matching black evening dresses stood around her.
Javier’s aunts.
Cousins.
Family friends.
Women who had smiled at her during the reception, kissed both her cheeks, and called her beautiful.
Now they formed a circle.
Not to protect her.
To keep her in.
Carmen stood in front of Sofia in a black sequined evening gown, gold bracelets shining on both wrists, auburn-brown hair pinned perfectly in place.
Her face was calm.
Cruel, but calm.
“Sign over the condo,” Carmen said.
Sofia’s throat tightened.
“No.”
Carmen’s hand lifted slowly.
Sofia saw it coming.
That almost made it worse.
“The condo belongs to me,” Sofia said. “My father bought it before I ever met Javier.”
Carmen smiled.
“A wife learns obedience early.”
Then she slapped her.
One hard open-hand strike across the cheek.
Sofia’s head snapped sideways. Pain burst through her mouth. Her lip split slightly, and a thin red streak marked her cheek as she fell forward onto the bed.
She did not black out.
She did not scream.
She heard the women gasp, then laugh nervously, as if laughter could make cruelty feel like tradition.
On the bed, inches from her hand, Sofia’s smartphone lay face-up.
The red recording indicator glowed on the screen.
Still running.
Carmen grabbed a fistful of Sofia’s long brown hair and yanked her upright against the mattress.
Sofia braced one hand on the white sheets.
Her pearl earring brushed her jaw.
Her breath came in sharp little pulls.
The camera of her phone saw everything.
The papers.
The slap.
The hair grab.
The women surrounding her.
And the open doorway.
Javier stepped into it.
Her husband.
Less than four hours married.
Black tuxedo.
Bow tie loosened.
Dark hair perfect.
Face cold.
He looked at his mother’s hand in Sofia’s hair.
Then at Sofia’s bleeding lip.
He did not move to help her.
He only said, “Just don’t bruise her face too badly.”
The room went still.
Sofia slowly turned her eyes toward him.
Then toward the phone.
The red light blinked.
Recording.
She looked back at Javier.
“Keep talking.”
Javier’s expression shifted.
Not much.
Just enough.
A tiny crack of fear.
Carmen followed Sofia’s gaze and saw the phone.
Her hand tightened in Sofia’s hair.
“You little—”
Sofia reached for the phone.
One of the women tried to snatch it first, but Sofia slapped her own palm over the screen and dragged it against her chest.
“Touch it,” Sofia whispered, “and you add tampering to assault.”
Carmen froze.
Javier’s eyes narrowed.
“You think a phone is going to save you?”
May you like
Sofia looked at the transfer papers on the bed.
“No,” she said. “I think your voice already did.”
