The photograph showed Abby sitting beside a man in a hotel lobby.
Not Gabriel.
The man was older, expensively dressed, with one hand resting possessively on her waist.
Gabriel’s face drained of color.
“Where did you get this?”
My lawyer, Attorney Reyes, remained calm.
“Do you recognize him?”
“Of course I recognize him.”
Gabriel’s voice cracked.
“That’s Victor Salazar.”
Daniel frowned.
“The investor?”
Gabriel didn’t answer.
Victor Salazar was more than an investor.
He had financed the private surgical center Gabriel planned to open.
And according to the investigation, Abby had been Victor’s girlfriend for almost four years.
She had met Gabriel only eight months earlier.
Attorney Reyes placed another photograph on the bed.
Then another.
Abby with Victor in Singapore.
Abby entering Victor’s condominium.
Abby receiving jewelry from him.
Finally, a bank statement.
Gabriel stared at it.
The missing eighteen million pesos had been transferred through three accounts before reaching a corporation registered under Abby’s brother’s name.
“No.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Abby said she needed the money because her mother was sick.”
“Her mother is healthy,” Reyes replied.
“And the stabbing?”
Gabriel suddenly stopped.
Reyes looked directly at him.
“Victor Salazar was the man who attacked you.”
Silence filled the room.
Daniel whispered:
“Jesus.”
The truth was painfully simple.
Victor had discovered Abby was seeing Gabriel.
He confronted them outside a private club.
Gabriel stepped between them.
Victor pulled a knife.
And Abby?
She ran.
She hadn’t called the ambulance.
A security guard had.
The delicate woman Gabriel believed needed protecting had left him bleeding on the pavement.
Meanwhile, I was in Paris.
For the first time in six years, I woke without wondering what Gabriel needed.
No breakfast to prepare.
No schedule to organize.
No hospital dinners.
No excuses.
My lawyer called.
“We confirmed the transfers.”
I closed my eyes.
“All eighteen million?”
“Yes.”
“How much was marital property?”
“Enough that we’re seeking recovery.”
“And Abby?”
“She appears to have left Manila.”
I looked through the hotel window.
“Let her run.”
“Katrina, there’s something else.”
I waited.
“Gabriel has been calling constantly.”
“I know.”
“You haven’t answered?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I smiled.
For six years, whenever Gabriel called, I answered.
Apparently silence was the first language he finally understood.
Three days later, Gabriel left the hospital.
Not because he was ready.
Because he refused to stay after learning I wasn’t coming back.
Daniel drove him home.
The moment Gabriel entered our bedroom, he saw the ring on his pillow.
He stood there for almost a minute.
Then he opened the closet.
Half empty.
My passport gone.
Documents gone.
Laptop gone.
Everything personal that mattered was gone.
He called me again.
This time, I answered.
“Katrina.”
His breathing changed immediately.
“Come home.”
“No.”
“I need you.”
There it was.
Not I love you.
Not I’m sorry.
I need you.
“You have nurses,” I said.
“This isn’t about nurses.”
“Then call Abby.”
Silence.
“She lied to me.”
I almost laughed.
“And that concerns me because?”
“Katrina, eighteen million pesos are gone.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“My lawyer knows more about your finances than you do.”
His voice hardened.
“So this is revenge?”
“No, Gabriel.”
I looked at the Paris skyline.
“Revenge would mean I’m still arranging my life around you.”
He tried another approach.
“I almost died.”
“I know.”
“And you left.”
“You were conscious enough to tell me exactly what role you expected me to play.”
His breathing stopped.
I continued.
“You wanted Abby for romance and me for labor.”
“Katrina—”
“She was too delicate to wash you, feed you or clean your wounds. But apparently I was strong enough to watch you love someone else and still serve you.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“You said it while bleeding.”
My voice remained calm.
“People become surprisingly honest when they think they have no time left.”
He started crying.
I’d heard Gabriel angry.
Cold.
Impatient.
I’d never heard him cry.
Once, it would have broken me.
That night, it didn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I believe you.”
Hope entered his voice.
“Then come home.”
“I believe you’re sorry.”
I paused.
“That doesn’t mean I’m coming back.”
I ended the call.
Abby was arrested six weeks later after returning to Manila using another woman’s passport.
The investigation uncovered financial fraud far beyond Gabriel.
Victor had funded her lifestyle.
Gabriel had funded it too.
Neither man had known about the other.
She had never been Gabriel’s fragile little princess.
Fragility had simply been the costume she wore because Gabriel enjoyed feeling needed.
The eighteen million wasn’t fully recovered.
Some had already disappeared.
Gabriel blamed Abby publicly.
Privately, the divorce proceedings forced him to admit something worse:
Abby could only take what he had voluntarily given her access to.
Money.
Time.
Attention.
And eventually, his marriage.
Eight months later, our divorce was finalized.
Gabriel asked to meet me once.
I agreed.
He looked thinner.
The surgical center project had collapsed after Victor withdrew his investment.
Gabriel was still a respected surgeon.
His life wasn’t destroyed.
It was simply no longer being managed by me.
“I’ve been in therapy,” he said.
“I’m glad.”
“I understand things now.”
I waited.
“I liked Abby needing me.”
That surprised me.
He looked down.
“With you, I always felt… unnecessary.”
I almost smiled.
“Because I was competent?”
“Because you could survive without me.”
“And Abby couldn’t?”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“Apparently she survived very well.”
For the first time, we both smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“Is there really no chance?”
“No.”
“Katrina, six years…”
“I know.”
“I still love you.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
“Maybe.”
His face changed.
“But Gabriel, you didn’t want a wife who was strong.”
I stood.
“You wanted a strong woman whenever life became difficult and a fragile woman whenever you wanted to feel important.”
He couldn’t deny it.
At the door, I stopped.
“Take care of yourself.”
His eyes filled.
“I thought you promised to take care of me.”
I remembered the hospital.
His blood-covered gown.
Abby’s clean hands.
His relieved expression when I had smiled and said:
It’s okay, Gabriel.
I smiled again.
“I did.”
He looked confused.
“Leaving you was the first time I stopped helping you avoid the consequences of your choices.”
Then I walked away.
A year later, I
