Chapter 5

I woke up bit by bit—smelling clean hospital smells, seeing bright lights, and hearing beeping machines. My eyes felt very heavy as I opened them, squinting because the hospital lights were so bright. The room seemed to spin for a moment before becoming clear.

"Take it slow," said a voice I knew.

Alejandro Vega sat next to my bed, looking worried. The dark circles under his eyes showed he hadn't slept. When he saw me looking at him, his face showed relief.

"You're awake," he said quietly.

I tried to talk, but my throat hurt too much. Alejandro got a cup of water from the table by my bed, gently helping me lift my head as I drank through the straw. His kindness almost made me cry.

"How long was I out?" I asked.

"Almost four hours this time." His hand moved toward mine but then pulled back. "The doctors said your body needed time to heal from the hurt."

Hurt. Such a simple word for how broken I felt inside. I tried to move, but pain shot through my belly.

"Let me help you." Alejandro stood up and fixed the pillows behind me very carefully. Being so close to him—smelling his clean cologne, feeling his gentle strong hands—stirred feelings I couldn't let myself think about.

"Thank you," I whispered, using polite words to hide my messy feelings. My mind flashed with pictures: Carlos and Daniela in my bed together, rain hitting my car window, the awful sound of crashing metal. And under it all, the doctor's words: "You probably won't be able to have children."

"Emily?" Alejandro's voice brought me back. "Are you hurting? Should I call the nurse?"

I made my face look calm, hoping it seemed real. "I'm fine."

His dark eyes watched me, not believing me. "You don't have to do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Pretend." He said it simply, not judging me. "I know that look. I had the same look for months after Laura died."

The mention of his dead wife hung in the air between us. I'd almost forgotten Sofia told me about his loss.

"I'll get us coffee," he said after a moment. "The coffee here is awful, but there's a good cafe across the street. I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Will you be okay?"

I nodded, thankful to be alone for a little while. When the door closed behind him, I let myself cry—quiet tears burning down my cheeks. I cried for the baby I lost two years ago, for the children I would never have, and because my husband had never really been mine.

When Alejandro came back, I had pulled myself together, though my eyes were still red. He acted like he didn't notice, putting a paper cup on my table.

"Two sugars, no cream," he said. "Sofia told me how you like your coffee."

His thoughtfulness in remembering how I liked my coffee was so different from Carlos's not caring. When was the last time my husband noticed anything about me?

"You didn't have to stay," I said, carefully sipping the hot drink. "I'm sure you have more important things to do than watch over me."

Alejandro sat back down in the chair by my bed. "Nothing is more important than making sure you're okay. Besides, your husband isn't here yet, and someone should be with you."

The mention of Carlos made me feel cold inside. I put down my cup, trying to hide how I felt.

"Do they know? Carlos and Daniela?" I asked.

"The hospital called them last night. They said they'd be here this morning." He paused. "Is everything okay, Emily? You seem... scared."

I stared into my coffee, buying time. "It's complicated."

"Life usually is." He leaned back, looking thoughtful. "After Laura died, I thought the pain would kill me too. I couldn't eat or sleep. I couldn't design buildings without seeing her in every line I drew." His voice got softer. "But finally, I realized that pain doesn't have to define you. It can change you instead."

"How?" I whispered.

"By making you decide what really matters. By burning away everything fake until only truth is left." He looked straight at me, honest and steady. "Pain brings clarity, if you let it."

Clarity. Yes. That's exactly what I'd found on that rainy road—a painful, burning clarity about my marriage, my life, and the years of being manipulated.

"The doctors told me I can't have children," I blurted out. "The crash damaged my body too much to fix."

I hadn't meant to share this—my deepest, freshest wound, but something about Alejandro's quiet strength made the words come out.

His face softened with real care. "I'm so sorry, Emily."

No empty words. No awkward comfort. Just simple understanding of my pain. I found myself fighting back tears again.

"It shouldn't matter," I said, my voice small. "Carlos never wanted children anyway. Not with me, at least."

The words hung in the air between us, showing more than I meant to. Alejandro's face changed slightly, but he didn't push.

"My phone," I said suddenly, changing the subject. "Do you know where it is?"

"The nurses have your things. I think your purse and phone are in that cabinet." He pointed to a small closet in the corner.

I hesitated. "Could you... would you mind getting it for me?"

Alejandro got my Fendi Peekaboo handbag and put it on the bed beside me. As I reached for it, our fingers touched. Something like electricity seemed to pass between us, making me pull back quickly.

"Alejandro," I whispered, suddenly needing to tell him everything.

"There's something I need to tell you."

A sharp knock stopped me. The door opened, and Carlos walked in, carrying a huge bunch of red roses. Daniela followed right behind him, her perfect face showing worry that didn't reach her calculating eyes.

"My love!" Carlos cried out, rushing to my bed. He barely noticed Alejandro was there. "We came as soon as visiting hours started. How are you feeling?"

His act was perfect, the loving husband, sick with worry. If I hadn't seen him with my own eyes, in bed with Daniela just yesterday, I might have believed him. The roses he pushed toward me were just like the anniversary flowers he'd ignored days earlier.

"The doctors say you had a serious accident," Carlos went on, taking my hand possessively. "Why didn't you call me? I would have come to get you instead of you driving in that storm."

Daniela stepped forward, her hand resting on Carlos's shoulder like she touched him all the time. "We were so worried, Emily. Mateo's been asking about his auntie."

The boldness of their act made me feel sick. I looked at their perfectly arranged worried faces and saw nothing but calculation in their eyes. For years, I'd been blind to how they manipulated me, desperate to believe Carlos's lies. But pain had indeed brought clarity—a devastating, freeing clarity.

I pulled my hand away from Carlos's grip, my smile stiff. "How nice of you both to come."

Carlos's eyes narrowed slightly at my tone before he looked at Alejandro, who had stood up tall beside my bed.

"And you are?" Carlos demanded, his voice suddenly cold.

"Alejandro Vega," he answered calmly. "We were supposed to meet at the fundraiser. I'm the architect for the children's hospital."

Recognition flashed across Carlos's face. "Ah, yes. The architect." His dismissive tone made the title sound like an insult. "Thank you for your help, but I'm here now. My wife is in good hands."

The possessiveness in Carlos's voice made my skin crawl. I caught Alejandro's eye, silently begging. Understanding passed between us—a wordless connection that seemed deeper than our short time knowing each other.

"Actually," Alejandro said calmly, "Emily and I were talking about the hospital designs. She was very eager to see the updated plans, even from her hospital bed. Such dedication is amazing."

Carlos's jaw tightened. "My wife needs rest, not work talk. Maybe you could come back another time."

"Carlos," I cut in, my voice stronger than I expected. "Alejandro saved my life. He pulled me from the crashed car and called the ambulance. If not for him, I wouldn't be here."

Something dark and possessive flashed across Carlos's face before his mask of concern came back. "Then we owe you, Mr. Vega. But surely you understand, I need time alone with my wife now."

Alejandro hesitated, looking at me for direction. I gave him a small nod, though everything inside me screamed for him to stay.

"Of course," he agreed. "Emily, I'll check on you tomorrow, if that's okay? We still have those design details to discuss."

Before Carlos could object, I spoke. "Please do. And Alejandro... thank you. For everything."

As he walked to the door, Daniela moved slightly to block his path, forcing him to step around her. The territorial display wasn't lost on me or on Alejandro, whose eyes hardened for a moment.

When the door closed behind him, Carlos's caring expression vanished. He dropped the roses carelessly onto the bed.

"What exactly was he doing here?" he demanded.

I met his gaze steadily, something inside me shifting. The fear that had shaped our relationship for years was burning away, replaced by a cold, clearing anger.

"Keeping me company," I replied evenly. "Since my husband was busy elsewhere."

Carlos and Daniela exchanged a quick glance that confirmed everything. They thought I knew nothing, that I was still blind to their betrayal. They had no idea that I had seen them together, that I had proof safely stored away, or that the accident had stripped away my last illusions about our marriage.

As they stood before me, Carlos's hand now resting casually on Daniela's lower back—I made a decision. I would play the obedient, unsuspecting wife a little longer. I would gather evidence, protect my money, and save my foundation. Then, when they least expected it, I would take back everything they had stolen from me.

I might be broken, but I was still breathing. And that was enough to begin my silent revenge.