Hera had been my guide, my anchor. As Francheska’s best friend, she had taught me everything I needed to know, ensuring that every detail was perfected. And Hector—he had shaped me into his wife’s shadow, his silent weapon of revenge. It wasn’t easy, but I adapted, molded myself into the role that fate had thrust upon me.
For those four years, we remained hidden in Bay City, planning every move, every strike. Hector would visit, bringing updates on the De Santis and Russos, feeding my thirst for vengeance. And during those years, I painted.
I poured my rage, my grief, my hatred onto the canvas. Each stroke told a story—of pain, betrayal, and suffering. Of what they did to me. What they did to Francheska. Each painting was a reflection of the darkness that the De Santis had sown into our lives.
And now, it was time.
A week ago, Hera and I returned to Atlas City—the city where my enemies thrived. The city where my retribution would begin.
Tonight was the first strike.
The grand exhibit was set in motion, a carefully orchestrated event that would introduce my work to the world under the name Vidora Ashe. No one knew who was behind the alias, not yet. But they would.
This exhibit wasn’t just about art—it was a weapon, a message. A mirror to their sins.
As I stood before the vanity, preparing myself for the night, Hector entered the room. He was dressed in a sleek black suit, his presence commanding as always. His gaze met mine in the reflection, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his deep voice steady but laced with tension.
I turned to him, nodding. “I am.”
For a moment, he remained silent, his sharp eyes scanning my face as if searching for any hesitation. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. When he opened it, a diamond ring gleamed inside.
“You need to wear this,” he said, his voice firm. “To the world, you are Francheska Falcon, my wife. This will make it believable.”
I hesitated only for a second before taking the ring. It was heavier than I expected. Slipping it onto my finger felt both foreign and natural, as if sealing a pact with the devil himself.
Hector’s jaw tightened slightly as he watched me. “Stay close to me tonight. If anything feels off, if you sense anything wrong, look for me.”
“I will.”
His eyes darkened. “We can’t afford mistakes, Alicia.”