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CH 21

last update Zuletzt aktualisiert: 25.02.2026 20:06:04

I think I finally grew some damn balls with Mateo tonight. 

But shit - I should've grown more. 

I should've just asked him about Valentina. Straight up. No bullshit. 

How the hell did I just swallow her story without even giving him a chance to speak? Without proof? Without anything? 

 

Stupid. 

Stupid. 

Stupid.

 

Walking back to my room after he left, I slapped my own cheek - hard. It stung. Good. I deserved it. 

I should've let him touch me. Should've forgotten her face and let him take me again. He wanted *me*. Not her. Me. And I pushed him away like a fucking idiot.

 

Am I really this dumb?

 

Clock said midnight. I should've crashed. Slept. But my brain wouldn't shut up.

 

Then the doorbell rang. 

Loud. Angry banging right after.

 

Everyone in this building probably hates me now. Late-night visitors. Mateo twice in one night? They're gonna skin me alive.

 

I was excited though. Stupid excited. Thought it was him coming back. I tried to keep my face blank - cold - didn't want him to see how much I wanted him. But my "cold face" probably just looked like I was constipated.

 

I yanked the door open.

 

Ethan.

 

"What the fuck are you doing here?!"

 

He didn't answer. Just stared. Smiled that drunk, sloppy smile. Reached for me.

 

I jerked back. 

He tripped. Face-planted. Nose hit the floor hard. Stayed down for a second like he was dead.

 

Damn. This idiot's wasted.

 

I opened the door wider. Grabbed his arm. Tried to drag him out.

 

He snapped awake. Kicked - almost got my stomach. Missed. Fell back again.

 

I gave him the most disgusted look I could manage.

 

"Hey, Bell," he slurred.

 

I didn't answer. Just pointed at the door. Waited.

 

He stumbled up. Grabbed me instead. Pulled me inside. Slammed the door. That drunk smirk was back when he saw I wasn't impressed.

 

He looked around - saw the first-aid stuff I used on Mateo. Stumbled over. Grabbed my arms. Spun me.

 

"You hurt, Bell?" Big fake concern.

 

For half a second I almost believed him.

 

Then he laughed. Quiet. Sick. Put both hands on his face like he couldn't believe his luck. Walked into my bedroom. Looked around. Turned.

 

"You know I hate my fiancée," he said.

 

I mouthed "Ooh" - no sound. Who the fuck cares? And I didn't know the sucker was engaged.

 

"She's pregnant. But I don't wanna marry her."

 

"Why?"

 

Shit. Shouldn't have asked.

 

He glared. Walked over. Grabbed my face with both hands. Kissed my forehead.

 

Gross. 

He smelled like vomit, cheap liquor, failure, and sadness.

 

"You know I'm supposed to have *you*, Isabella!" he yelled right in my face.

 

His spit hit my cheek. My lips. I gagged - didn't puke. Barely.

 

"My fiancée's pregnant. Catholic family. Gotta do the right thing."

 

Oh. 

Now I get it.

 

He has to marry her. Doesn't want to. And that miserable look on his face? 

It made me happy. Like his pain was my little revenge.

 

I watched him stumble away. Decided I was done.

 

I started pulling him toward the door. He kept blabbing - something about how I should be pregnant with *him*.

 

He wasn't that drunk. Caught on. Glared. Started crying.

 

"You know I should fuck you right now. Get you pregnant, Isabella!" Drunk smirk again.

 

I gulped. Fear gripped me. If something else happens I will break. Mateo, his family, my life? I had distracted myself enough.

 

No.

 

I smiled - sweet, fake. Walked past him. Grabbed my phone. Ran to the bathroom. Locked it. Hid behind the shower curtain.

 

Only one person came to mind.

 

Mateo.

 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring.

 

Voicemail.

 

Shit.

 

Police? 

No - Mateo would be furious if cops showed up.

 

Dad? 

I laughed - bitter. He wouldn't even pick up. He handed me to Mateo like a parcel.

 

One more try.

 

Voicemail again.

 

I left a message. Voice shaking.

 

"Mateo... it's me. Ethan's here. Broke in. Drunk. He's... he's trying to hurt me again. I knew him from college. He left me. Ghosted me. Hit me before. I... I think I love you. I'm sorry. I just... I need help. He's in my apartment. Please."

 

I heard the bathroom door rattle.

 

"I found you!" Ethan sang - drunk child voice.

 

I ended the recording.

 

My phone rang. Mateo. I answered fast.

 

"I know you-"

 

"Stay the hell away from my father!"

 

Kid's voice. Angry. Young.

 

I froze. Looked at the screen just to be certain it was him.

 

"...said you should stay away from our family. You refused. What do you want, Isabella? You're just a cheap gold digger. My mom... I mean, I know you look like one and-"

 

I hung up. What just happened? What was he even saying at the end?

 

Ethan yanked the door open.

 

"Hey Isabella... don't give me that look," he slurred. Mocking. Pleading.

 

I snarled.

 

Heaven knows if I was a tiger I'd rip his throat out.

 

I was shaking. Mateo has a family. A wife. A kid. Never told me. Fucked me anyway. Made me think I was his.

 

What was I thinking?

 

Ethan unbuckled his belt.

 

"Oh don't be sad. You know your pussy's always been sweet. Took your virginity as a bet, remember?"

 

My heart stopped.

 

I remembered. 

That day. 

Him saying he 'had' to be first. 

No date. No romance. Just... pressure. And me giving in.

 

I wasn't thinking.

 

I walked straight to him. Grabbed his dick through his pants. Twisted hard.

 

He screamed. Bent over.

 

I snatched my phone. Turned it sideways. Smashed it into the side of his head.

 

He dropped. Out cold.

 

I checked his pulse. Still alive. Just unconscious.

 

"Fuck everyone," I whispered. "Fuck you, Mateo. Fuck you, you piece of shit!"

 

I looked around. Found an old jump rope in the closet. Dragged him by his ankles - face scraping the floor the whole way. Didn't care if it hurt.

 

Tied him to two chairs pushed together. Wrists. Elbows. Ankles. Legs. Torso. Gagged him with a sock and duct tape.

 

Searched his pockets. Took his phone. Wallet. Keys.

 

"Fuck everything!"

 

I cried - hard - as I walked back to my room.

 

Enough.

 

No more letting people hurt me. No more falling for liars. No more thinking Mateo loved me.

 

Why does it hurt this bad? Why does my chest feel like it's caving in? 

Why can't I breathe?

 

I need air. I need FVCKING AIR!

 

Am I really in love?

 

"I fucked up," I sobbed. "And fuck you so much, Mateo Rossi."

 

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