---- Chapter 9 Khloe Rojas POV: | don't know how long | was in that cellar. Days blurred into a nightmare of darkness, cold, and the terrifying drip of water. By the time they finally opened the door, | was running a raging fever, my body wracked with shivers. They had released me not out of mercy, but because Julian's lawyers had informed him that holding me against my will could complicate the very generous divorce settlement he was offering. | had one day. One day until my flight, one day until my new life. Weak and trembling, | propped myself up in bed in the guest room they' d dumped me in. My first call was to Anya. "It's time," | whispered, my voice a raw, painful rasp. The synthetic cords in my throat weren't fully healed, but | didn't care. "Are you sure about this, Klo?" Anya's voice was tight with worry. "Faking your own death... it's insane." "It's necessary," | rasped. "He won't stop. As long as he thinks I'm alive, he'll find ways to torture me. He needs to believe I'm gone. Truly gone." ---- Anya had arranged everything. A reliable service that specialized in creating new identities and staging... disappearances. | now had a new passport, a new name, and a one-way ticket to a war-torn country on the other side of the world where | would work as a humanitarian doctor under my new identity. | had already sold my architecture firm and liquidated my assets, wiring everything to an untraceable offshore account. Khloe Rojas was about to become a ghost. My last task was the most important. | sent an encrypted email to the whistleblower. Tonight. The Blue Dahlia bar. 10 PM. Come alone. That evening, | dressed carefully, hiding my gaunt frame and the bruises on my arms beneath a long coat. | slipped into the dimly lit, smoky bar and found a booth in the back. | was nursing a club soda when | saw him enter. Julian. My heart hammered against my ribs, a panicked bird trapped in a cage. What was he doing here? He strode to the bar, his face dark and brooding, and ordered a whiskey. He was talking to the bartender, his voice loud enough for me to hear over the music. "I can't wait until this divorce is final," he slurred slightly, already on his second drink. "I'll finally be free of that bloodsucking leech. Marrying her was the biggest mistake of my life." Each word was a fresh cut. | shrank back into the shadows, pulling my scarf higher. He didn't see me. To him, | was already invisible. ---- A man slid into the booth across from me. He was nondescript, with nervous eyes. The whistleblower. "You have it?" | whispered, my voice barely audible. He nodded, sliding a slim USB drive across the table. "Everything. The offshore accounts, the money laundering, the evidence of him bribing government officials. It's enough to put him away for life." "He'll be a fugitive," | said, a cold satisfaction spreading through me. "Hunted." "He deserves it," the man said, his voice bitter. | slipped him an envelope thick with cash. He took it and disappeared back into the crowd. | held the USB drive in my hand. It was the key to Julian's destruction. | had already backed up the files and sent copies to the FBI, the SEC, and the top investigative journalist in the country. It was all timed to be released tomorrow morning, just as my plane was taking off. | stood up to leave, my mission complete. As | walked past the bar, Julian's gaze fell on me. For a moment, just a fraction of a second, his eyes cleared, and a flicker of recognition crossed his face. He opened his mouth as if to say my name. But then his eyes glazed over again, the monster was back in control. He sneered. "Get lost," he said, turning his back on me. | walked out of the bar and into the cold night air without ---- looking back. My final act was to drive to the cliffs overlooking the ocean, the same spot where Julian had proposed to me nine years ago. It was a fitting place for Khloe Rojas to die. | left the car, the engine running, with a signed copy of the divorce papers on the passenger seat. My purse was on the ground, a suicide note tucked inside. Everything was in place. | walked away down a hidden path, where a car arranged by Anya was waiting. As we drove towards the airport, | pulled out my phone and deleted everything. Every photo, every message, every trace of Julian Gallegos. | was finally free. As the plane took off, leaving the glittering city lights behind, | didn't feel sadness or regret. | felt a profound sense of peace. The love | had for him was a cancer that had almost destroyed me. But | had cut it out. He would wake up tomorrow to find his empire in flames and the news of my suicide splashed across every screen. He would be a hunted man, a pariah. And he would spend the rest of his life in a prison of his own making, haunted by the ghost of a woman he had murdered long before she ever walked off that cliff.