Chapter 3 - The Highway to Plano
The Uber arrived five minutes later at the intersection of Southlake Boulevard and a rural connector road, two hundred yards from the Cardenas property entrance.
The driver was an older man named Arthur, listening to a local news station on low volume. He barely looked up as I pulled open the door of his silver sedan and slid into the back seat.
"Where to?" he asked.
"Plano," I said, my voice surprisingly clear. "The intersection of Coit Road and 15th Street. The commercial plaza."
"Got it. About thirty-five minutes with morning traffic."
I sat back against the faux-leather seat, watching the massive wrought-iron gates of the Cardenas neighborhood shrink into the distance through the rear window.
My phone began to buzz continuously in my palm.
Mason: Where are you?
Mason: Valerie, this isn't funny. My mother is waiting downstairs.
Mason: You left your dress in the closet. What are you doing?
Mason: Answer your phone.
Then the caller ID changed.
Linda Cardenas
I let it ring until it went to voicemail.
A minute later, a text message arrived from Linda's number.
Linda: Valerie, you are acting completely unprofessionally. You have responsibilities to this family starting today. If you have had an emotional breakdown, you need to return immediately so we can address it privately before guests begin asking questions.
I stared at the screen, a slow, cold smile touching my lips.
Unprofessionally.
To Linda Cardenas, a marriage was not a union of two people; it was an employment contract where I was the junior hire expected to perform manual labor and surrender my family’s equity without complaint.
I opened my contact list and dialed my brother, Mateo.
Mateo was twenty-nine, three years younger than me, and ran the production floor at my father's printing shop. He was practical, intensely protective, and spent his free time maintaining the shop's ancient offset presses and managing their digital inventory systems.
He answered on the second ring. "Hey, Mrs. Cardenas. Aren't you supposed to be on a beach in Cabo by now?"
"Mateo," I said, keeping my voice quiet so the driver wouldn't hear the tension. "Are Mom and Dad at the shop?"
There was a short pause on the line. Mateo’s tone shifted instantly. He knew my voice better than anyone. "They just got in ten minutes ago. Dad’s opening the front office. Valerie, what’s wrong? Why aren't you with Mason?"
"Is there anyone else at the shop right now?"
"No. Just Dad, Mom, and me. The morning shift doesn't start until ten today because of the wedding last night. What happened?"
"I’m in an Uber," I said. "I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes. Don't let Dad sign anything. Don't let him open any mail from Mason or his family's lawyers. If anyone from the Cardenas family calls the shop phone, do not answer it."
"Valerie, you’re scaring me. Did Mason hit you?"
"I'm fine," I said, looking out at the sprawling highway concrete of Highway 190 rolling past. "He locked me in a room. I got out. I have a recording, Mateo. A recording of everything they planned to do to the shop."
May you like
A long, heavy silence stretched over the phone line from Plano.
"I’m locking the front gates right now," Mateo said, his voice dropping into a flat, dangerous register. "Get here. I’ll have Dad and Mom waiting in the back office."
