Chapter 3

Helen didn't get the reaction she wanted. A new idea flashed in her eyes. "If it weren't for Mateo, I don't even know how swollen my ankle would've gotten. Since we're all here, why don't we have dinner together? Consider it my way of saying thanks!"

Her tone was bright, cheerful—a sharp contrast to Yara's silence.

No one asked Yara if she wanted to stay. The decision was already made for her.

When dinner was finally served, she took her seat at the table and immediately noticed—every dish was spicy. Helen's favorite.

She wasn't surprised.

She had once told Benjamin and Milada, in passing, that her stomach couldn't handle spicy food. Their response? "Stop being so dramatic."

Later, when she was with Mateo, he had always been careful with her food. He even learned to cook dishes that wouldn't upset her stomach.

But tonight, though he sat right beside her, he never even glanced her way. His attention was fixed entirely on Helen. At the slightest movement, he rushed to pass her a napkin, to serve her food.

Yara suddenly remembered—

How, back when Mateo came to the Medici residence for her, his gaze would always drift toward Helen.

How, on Helen's birthday, he'd casually ask about her favorite things, as if it were just a passing thought.

How, whenever Helen fell ill, he'd suddenly have urgent business to attend to.

A bitter smile tugged at Yara's lips.

It had always been so obvious. How had she only seen it now?

But no matter how much Mateo loved Helen, he had no right to use Yara as a pawn. His deception—giving up his entire life just for Helen's sake—hurt far worse than Steven's outright rejection.

Dinner ended. She barely touched her food.

The drive back was silent.

She was thinking about changing her name and cutting ties for good. He, most likely, was still lost in the warmth of his time with Helen.

Finally, Yara broke the silence. "I'm not going home. I need to go somewhere else."

Mateo snapped out of his thoughts, turning to her. His voice was gentle. "Where do you need to go? I'll come with you."

"No need," she replied, shaking her head.

But he reached for her hand, firm. "I can't let you go alone."

She didn't argue. Just typed the address into the GPS and let him drive.

The road was quiet. Before long, they neared their destination.

Then—his phone rang.

The moment he answered, Milada's voice cut through. "Mateo, Helen's wound is infected. She has a fever. Can you take her to the hospital?"

"I'll be right there!"

He immediately moved to turn the car around but hesitated, glancing at Yara.

"Yara, I..."

He struggled for words, torn. But before he could finish, she beat him to it.

"Go ahead. I can walk the rest of the way."

Without waiting for a response, she pushed open the door and stepped out.

He watched for a second. Then, his concern for Helen won out. He restarted the car and sped off.

Yara stood there, staring at the fading taillights, swallowing the bitterness rising in her chest.

'Mateo... if you had just driven a little farther...

'You would've seen my destination was the courthouse.

'You would've realized I was erasing myself from this life.

'But you didn't—because you never cared.'