“They fit perfectly,” I said softly.

He smiled back—never realizing that, in that moment, his control had already started to crumble.

I didn’t sleep that night. Daniel slept beside me peacefully, convinced he had already won, while I stared at the ceiling replaying every word I had overheard.

I didn’t cry.
I didn’t panic.

Because panic was exactly what they expected.

The next morning, I took the day off and went straight to see Isabel—an attorney specializing in family and property law, and a former university classmate. I didn’t start with the story. I showed her the documents: the apartment deed, bank statements, the prenuptial agreement Daniel had asked me to sign “just as a formality.”

Her expression darkened immediately.

“Laura, this is extremely unfavorable for you,” she said. “But you still have time.”

Then I told her everything.

She wasn’t shocked—she was furious.

“We need evidence,” she said firmly. “And we need to protect you now.”

For the next few days, I became the perfect bride. I smiled. I talked about flowers and menus. I let Carmen hug me with false affection.

Behind the scenes, I worked quietly. With Isabel’s help, I recorded conversations, secured my finances, changed passwords, gathered messages, and organized every piece of proof into a single file. I even consulted a psychologist to officially document my mental health—just in case.

At the wedding rehearsal dinner, Carmen raised her glass.