Aelia’s POVThe scent of antiseptic clung to the air. The soft beep of the heart monitor filled the silence, an annoying reminder that my body had betrayed me.I lay stiffly in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, ignoring the man sitting beside me.Pedro hadn’t left since I woke up.Not even once.And he was making himself useful in the most infuriating ways possible.The cool press of a damp towel met my forehead.I flinched.“Stop that,” I snapped, swatting his hand away.Pedro ignored me, dipping the towel back into the bowl of water before wringing it out. His sleeves were rolled up, his broad hands moving with precision.“You’re burning up,” he murmured, placing it back on my forehead with careful fingers.I nearly growled. “I don’t want your help.”“Yet, here you are. Needing it.”My fingers curled into the sheets, my pulse spiking for all the wrong reasons.Pedro Montonio, the same man who had blackmailed me, taunted me, and cornered me against a wall just hours ago was n
Aelia’s POVPedro Montonio owed me an explanation.That thought had consumed me all night, turning over and over in my mind like a storm I couldn’t escape.And now, standing in front of the glossy black doors of his office, clutching the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles turned white, I was about to get one.No more games. No more silent power plays.I slammed the door open without knocking.Pedro sat behind his desk, the golden light of the setting sun spilling through the high-rise windows, casting a glow on his crisp white shirt and loosened tie.He didn’t look surprised.His gaze lazily lifted to mine, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the wooden desk.I shut the door behind me, forcing my heartbeat to settle.“You paid for Penelope’s surgery.”Pedro’s expression remained blank. “And?”And?My hands curled into fists.“You didn’t tell me. You didn’t ask for anything in return. Why?”A slow, almost amused smirk touched his lips.“Would you have accepted it if I did?”No
Pedro’s POVThe door slammed behind her.I didn’t move. Didn’t react. Didn’t chase after her.I simply stood there, my fingers resting against the edge of my desk, staring at the empty space where she had just been.She was angry.Livid.Conflicted.I had seen the flicker of doubt in her eyes—the moment her hatred for me wavered, just for a second.And for the first time in a long, long time—I felt nothing but emptiness.No satisfaction. No amusement.Just… nothing.I should feel something, shouldn’t I?I had pushed her, cornered her, made her doubt her own emotions.I had won.So why did it feel like I lost?—I tried to shake it off.I went through my daily routine. Attended meetings, calls, business deals.But everything blurred.I caught myself staring into space, thinking of her.Thinking of her fire, her stubbornness.Thinking of how small she looked, curled up in that hospital bed, pale and weak.My fingers curled around the crystal glass of whiskey in front of me.This is ridi
Third-Person POVThe restaurant was quiet. Elegant. Exclusive.The kind of place that dripped with power and class, where the soft hum of conversation never rose above a refined whisper.Aelia sat stiffly at the table, her fingers curled around the linen napkin on her lap, fighting the urge to leave.Across from her, Valeria Montonio sat with perfect poise, dressed in a fitted black dress that clung to her like a second skin. Her long, dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, a picture of effortless grace.But Aelia knew better.Everything about Valeria was calculated. From the delicate way she lifted her teacup to the sharp glint of amusement in her icy green eyes.Valeria smiled, slow and knowing. Too knowing.“I appreciate you agreeing to meet me,” she said, voice smooth as silk.Aelia didn’t respond immediately.She hadn’t agreed.Valeria’s assistant had cornered her outside her office, informing her that Valeria Montonio had extended a lunch invitation. And when someone like Valeria
Pedro’s POVThe crystal glass in my hand shattered.Amber liquid spilled over my fingers, mixing with blood from the jagged shards embedded in my palm.I barely felt it.My mind was elsewhere.On her.On what that lunatic of a wife had done.Aelia’s trembling voice still rang in my ears, the way she had stormed into my office just moments ago—pale with rage, shaking with disgust.“Your wife is insane!”I hadn’t even looked up from my paperwork when she arrived. Too consumed with trying to keep myself busy.But the second those words left her lips, everything in me stilled.Then she had told me.Every word.Every sick, humiliating word Valeria had said to her.And now—I was going to kill my wife.The door slammed open before I could even call for Derrick.Speak of the devil.“You heard?” I said coolly, inspecting my bloodstained hand.Derrick exhaled sharply. “Everyone heard.”His voice was controlled. But his eyes? Dark with barely concealed fury.“How long?” I asked, tone deceptivel
Aelia’s POVI should feel relieved.I should feel satisfied knowing I finally told Pedro off knowing I spat Valeria’s disgusting offer right back in her face.But as I sat in my apartment, knees drawn to my chest, staring at the untouched cup of tea Darla made for me, all I felt was suffocated.He defended me.Pedro.The same man who had ruined my life, cornered me, forced me into his twisted games—Defended me. I should be grateful. I should be terrified.But most of all, I should not care.And yet, my mind wouldn’t let it go.Why did he react like that? Why did he go so far?I had expected him to laugh at Valeria’s offer, to make some smug, cruel remark about how it wasn’t the worst idea.Instead—He had burned with rage.I gritted my teeth, squeezing my arms tighter around myself.“I don’t care,” I whispered under my breath.If I say it enough times, maybe I’ll start believing it.My phone buzzed.I almost didn’t check it.But when I did, my stomach dropped.Unknown Number:(“Chec
Pedro’s POV I knew before Derrick even walked into the room. I felt it, the subtle shift in the air, the crackle of tension that hinted at the storm already gathering outside these walls. I had anticipated every move, every scandal, every desperate whisper in the corridors of power. And now, with the news of Aelia’s humiliation splashed across every media outlet, the world was beginning to understand the narrative I had so carefully crafted. Derrick entered my office with his usual measured pace, his face a mask of controlled disapproval. I didn’t need him to tell me what was happening; I already knew. Still, I held his gaze as I slowly lifted my whiskey glass. “Tell me,” I murmured, the words soft yet laced with an unyielding authority. Derrick’s jaw tightened before he replied, “It’s everywhere. Your name, Aelia’s name—the scandal has exploded beyond control.” His voice was steady, but I could sense the strain beneath it. It was as if he, too, understood that some fires, once i
Aelia’s POVI couldn’t stand it any longer.Every rumor, every whispered headline, every bitter reminder of who I was forced to be—it all echoed in my mind like a relentless drumbeat. I had been humiliated, exploited, and manipulated. And now, as I stared out the rain-streaked window of my apartment, I realized something: I was done being Pedro’s plaything.I had spent months trying to erase his shadow from my life, fighting every day to reclaim the person I once was. Yet every time I took a step forward, his presence, his calculated cruelty, pulled me back. I had tried to stand up. I had screamed. I had even nearly collapsed under the weight of his revelations. But now, amid the cold drizzle of a desolate night, I made a decision: I would escape this cage.I pulled my phone from my pocket, staring at its screen as if willing the words to appear. My trembling fingers typed a message to Mike, the one person who had truly cared for me through all this madness. “I’m leaving. I can’t stan
Private Villa, 3:41 AMPedro hadn’t slept a wink. His shirt was wrinkled from the night before, his tie discarded on the floor, and the sharp scent of whiskey still clung to his breath. The rain outside was relentless, hammering against the windows like fists. Lightning split the sky at intervals, casting fractured flashes of light into the room where Pedro sat motionless and silent, a full glass of untouched whiskey balanced between his fingers.He hadn’t changed since yesterday. His black shirt was still unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled halfway, stained faintly with dried blood and regret. The clock ticked, steady and taunting.That’s when Derrick burst in, soaked and breathless.“Boss—”Pedro’s head snapped up.“We just got a ping,” Derrick said. “One of our men at Dock 17 caught wind of unregistered movement. Black van. No markings. No customs clearance. They slipped through the outer security grid, but someone flagged the license plate before it disappeared from view. I
The road was rough, flanked on both sides by thick coastal fog and looming trees that swallowed the moonlight. Aelia lay on a secured stretcher, her face pallid, neck still bearing faint red bruises. Electrodes clung to her chest beneath a hospital gown, her breathing shallow but steady. The heart monitor beeped in the background—a metronome of survival.Waves crashed somewhere in the distance, rhythmic and menacing. The sound of tires over gravel merged with the gentle whir of medical machines in the back of the armored van.Two figures rode with her.One was the driver, dressed in dark tactical gear with no insignia. The other sat beside Aelia, dressed in a traveling physician’s coat, sterile gloves on his hands as he adjusted her IV drip and rechecked her vitals. He was older, balding, with a hard expression that masked the unease in his eyes.They had been driving for an hour, and not once had either spoken until the secure phone built into the dashboard lit up and rang, steali
The blue and red lights of police cars painted the hospital walls in frantic pulses. Officers moved in clusters, speaking in clipped tones into radios, while reporters hovered just beyond the line of sight, hungry for the next tragedy to feed on.Darcy pushed through them all, heart in her throat, hair clinging to her cheeks from the wind. Her shoes slapped hard against the concrete, breath ragged as her eyes scanned for a familiar face. Then she saw Pedro, standing like a wall of stone by the hospital entrance, surrounded by his men.Without thinking, she lunged.“You bastard!” she screamed, her fists slamming against his chest. “How could you let this happen?! How could you lose her?!”Pedro barely flinched. His eyes were dead and distant.Adrian appeared out of nowhere and caught Darcy from behind, dragging her back just enough to stop her flailing.“Darcy,” he whispered tightly, trying to calm her, but she kept fighting him.“She’s missing because of you!” Darcy’s voice cracked. “
Pedro stood motionless, his hands tucked behind his back as he stared at Valeria like she was a puzzle missing only one piece, one very damning piece!His sharp eyes slid from her face to the bag in her hands, then back up again.“I’ll ask only once,” his voice was calm, but laced with steel, “why the hell are you here?”Valeria held her chin high, calm on the outside, but her knuckles turned white as she gripped the handle of the tote bag. “I brought you some essentials. You haven’t been home in weeks. Thought you could use food, clothes. Maybe a razor.”She extended the bag slightly in his direction like evidence, but Pedro didn’t move.“Convenient,” he murmured. “The one day you visit the hospital, she disappears.”Valeria’s jaw tightened. “Are you accusing me?”Pedro didn’t answer. He stepped in closer. Too close. His breath mingled with hers, his voice dipped into a dangerous whisper. “You think I’m stupid?”“I didn’t even go near her room,” she said defensively, expression smoo
One Hour EarlierIt was warm here, too warm.Aelia stood barefoot in a sun-drenched field, the sky a rich shade of rose gold, the air thick with the scent of lavender and memories. The children from the orphanage were playing in the distance, their laughter soft and echoing, like it came from behind a veil. And beside her, Daisy stood. Whole. Smiling.“You could stay,” Daisy said, her voice feather-light, as if it didn’t belong to a body at all. “You and I… we could watch over them together.”Her fingers were laced with Aelia’s, the grip gentle but firm. Aelia looked down at their joined hands, felt the warmth, the strange comfort of it all.But something tugged.Not her hand, but her soul.“I can’t,” Aelia murmured, her voice uncertain, hollow. “I promised Penelope. I can’t leave her… I can’t leave them.”Daisy’s smile didn’t fade. “Then go,” she said softly. “I’ll take care of things here. You still have something to finish.”Aelia hesitated, but nodded and just like that, the golde
Pedro hadn’t slept.He sat in the dim hospital room, his elbows propped on his knees, shoulders weighed down by exhaustion and a torment he refused to name. His phone was in his hand, the screen glowing faintly as he scrolled through the collection of photos and videos his shadows had gathered, moments he hadn’t been a part of, moments when Aelia had smiled without knowing he was watching.Aelia sipping coffee by the window of the villa, her eyes reflecting sunlight.Aelia pacing while on the phone, probably with Darcy, her brows furrowed.Aelia sitting on the beach, hugging her knees, completely unaware of the drone that captured her.He hated himself for them now. Hated that he’d needed control so desperately, he resorted to surveillance. And yet he couldn’t stop watching her. Because she wasn’t smiling anymore. She wasn’t pacing or sitting or drinking coffee.She was motionless, and he was losing his mind.A quiet knock on the door pulled him back. A nurse stepped in politely, sa
Darcy sat on the edge of the bathroom counter, hissing softly as Adrian dabbed disinfectant on the cut across her forearm. Blood had already been cleaned off, but the skin was torn and angry, a painful reminder of Sola’s outburst.“You’d think I got slashed in a knife fight,” she muttered, wincing. “Didn’t know betrayal came in crystal form.”Adrian didn’t laugh. His brows were furrowed, jaw tight. He’d been quiet ever since Sola left, and that silence was beginning to hum with tension.“I’m fine, you know,” Darcy added, watching him through the mirror. “I’ve taken worse.”“That’s not the point.”Adrian’s voice was low, sharp. He met her eyes through the reflection, and she saw it the, the fury still simmering behind his calm exterior.“She could’ve hit your face. Or your head.”“But she didn’t.”“I should’ve thrown her out the second she showed up.” His voice cracked with restraint, like he was still trying to rein it in. “I knew she was spiraling.”Darcy tilted her head, still watch
Adrian hadn’t slept.Not really, anyway. The past month had been a cycle of long nights and longer days, of watching Pedro lose his mind by inches and keeping the pieces of their crumbling world from collapsing entirely.But tonight, for once, the storm had settled.At least, it seemed that way.Darcy was sitting across from him in his apartment, barefoot, legs tucked beneath her, a half-empty glass of whiskey dangling from her fingers. She had been talking about something, Aelia, Pedro, maybe the last time she had gotten a decent night’s sleep but her words had faded into the background, a low hum against the quiet crackle of the fireplace.Adrian wasn’t listening. Not because he didn’t care. But because he was too busy watching her.She was tired. She would never admit it, but he could see it in the slight droop of her shoulders, the way her usual sharp edges had softened just enough to let him see the exhaustion beneath.“You’re staring.”Adrian smirked. “I was admiring.”Darcy sno
One Month LaterThe world outside carried on as if nothing had changed. Stocks rose and fell, wars were waged in boardrooms and back alleys, and people continued to wake up, go about their lives, and go to sleep.But Pedro’s world hadn’t moved in a month.Aelia was still unconscious.She lay in that same pristine hospital bed, her body too still, her face far too pale. The machines surrounding her had become a familiar sight, the beeping of her heart monitor a sound Pedro had memorized. He hated it. That thin, fragile line on the screen was the only sign she was still here, yet it was never enough. It mocked him.Every day was the same. He’d sit by her bedside, watching, waiting, barely speaking. Some nights, he’d stay so late that Derrick had to pull him away, reminding him he still had an empire to run. Some mornings, he’d wake up with his head resting beside her arm, exhaustion having stolen away his consciousness for only a few fleeting hours.And then there were the days like tod