Claudia’s Checkmate

"Come closer." His voice was low, carrying that same undeniable command I used to hear so many times it made me sick.

I froze, staring at his face without blinking.

"Dianna," he repeated, his gaze sharp enough to cut. "I want to see you up close. Now."

My head roared. His words slapped against memory.

Theo, who never asked, only ordered. Theo, who could silence a room full of people just by dropping his tone half a step. Theo, who... who I thought could no longer surprise me after everything he’d destroyed.

And now he was calling me his wife. With eyes full of conviction, as if the last five years had never happened.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat locked, my brain scrambled to count every impossible thing in the span of a second.

How? How could he forget? How could he look at me like that... warm, sincere, almost torturous, when I remembered so vividly his last smile as he signed the divorce papers: cold, without a trace of regret.

"I... don’t—"

The door suddenly swung open. Claudia walked in, followed by two doctors in lab coats that looked too pristine for this hospital.

I stumbled back, breath caught.

"My love!" Claudia rushed to the bed, her face melting into practiced drama. "Oh God, Theo..."

The doctors moved quickly. One clicked on a small penlight, checking his pupils. The other adjusted the IV, the monitors, his blood pressure.

Theo glanced at me, that look. Burning. Familiar. Dangerous. "Don’t go anywhere," he said.

Another order.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Claudia turned toward me once the doctors were done. "Can I have a word?"

I followed, because refusing Claudia was the same as inviting nuclear war.

We stepped into the VIP suite’s sitting room, its cherrywood paneling and expensive sofas better suited for a board meeting than a hospital.

Claudia stood tall, chin resting on her diamond-ringed fingers, her eyes locking on me.

"Theo has amnesia," she said flatly.

I blinked, waiting for more, but no sound came out of me.

One of the doctors stepped forward, voice clinical. "Miss Bahr, Mr Rodriguez has partial memory loss. As far as he knows... you are still his wife."

Oh, hell.

Oh, shit.

Oh... fuck.

Claudia’s gaze sharpened, her eyes practically glowing. "So you’re going to pretend to be his wife. Until Theo recovers. Or until his fiancée wakes up from the coma."

I let out a dry laugh. "No. Even if this world was just me, Theo, and a pile of bricks, I still wouldn’t—"

"You think you have a choice?" Claudia cut in, her voice sharp as broken glass. "That little architecture firm you work for only exists because of investments from one of my partners. UrbanNest Properties. I can have them pull out tomorrow. And without that, your job crumbles. And I’ll make sure it crumbles hard."

I held my breath, my heart pounding.

Fuck her....

"And that’s not all," she went on. "If you refuse, I’ll tell your Abuelo. Mr Alejandro Lopez You know what he’s like. You know exactly why you agreed to marry Theo in the first place, even when you hated him. Do you really want to face that man’s wrath again?"

I swallowed hard. My stomach felt stabbed from the inside out. That face. Rigid, cold, merciless flashed in my mind. My maternal grandpa. The only man who had ever been able to break me, more than Theo ever could.

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

My head pounded. Claudia’s voice turned into a blur, the doctor’s medical jargon a noise I couldn’t decode.

All I knew was I needed to get out.

So I turned, my heels striking the gleaming marble floor, each click echoing like cruel laughter at the fact that once again, I was being dragged back into the Rodriguez family circus.

I left that suite with my head heavier than my body. Every heartbeat hammered the same reminder...

.....I was trapped. Again.

And God help me... I hated losing.

XXXX

I sat with my hands folded in my lap, back straight, eyes fixed on the empty plate in front of me.

Normally, I was the loudest and most charming voice at the table.

But now... it felt like my mouth had been sewn shut.

Of course, my mother couldn’t stand it.

“Dianna... I’ve been talking for ten minutes and you haven’t even lifted your head. Do you think I’m talking to the soup?” Her pitch rose. “God knows I already have enough problems with your cats—”

“They’re my children, Ma.”

“—and now my own daughter is staring at the table like a zombie!”

I nudged my spoon, slowly.

Papa’s eyes met mine from the other end of the table. Calm, as always. His low voice slipped between Mama’s scolding. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

I lifted my gaze, meeting the warmth in his face. My lips parted, but the answer caught in my throat. How could I explain that my head was crowded with the voice of my ex-mother-in-law, UrbanNest’s threats, the shadow of my abuelo, and... Theo, calling me his wife with the kind of look that made it seem like I was the only light left in the world?

“Ah, Papa, of course Dianna’s fine.” Dante swirled his wine glass lazily. “She’s just feeling sorry for her ex-husband, who apparently thinks they’re still married. Isn’t that right, dear sister?”

My head snapped up. Dante’s smug grin only deepened as he winked at me.

Bastard.

My hand moved before my brain caught up. I slipped it under the table and pinched his firm stomach hard enough to make him choke on his wine.

“AY—” Dante coughed violently, nearly spilling his drink. He spun toward me with mock horror. “Estás loca, Dianna!!”

I looked at him sweetly. “I haven’t even started.”

Papa chuckled under his breath, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t add fuel to Mama’s fire. Too late...her palm smacked the table.

“Enough!” she snapped. “The two of you, grown adults, behaving like feral kittens! I already deal with five actual cats in this house, now I have to sit through two more at my dinner table!”

“Make that three,” Dante shot back instantly, rubbing his stomach with a pout. “Damian’s no better when he’s home.”

“Damian is working overseas, unlike you, who only knows how to torment your sister.” Mama snapped.

“Right,” Dante scoffed. “Because being a pilot makes him a saint, while I...who keeps Papa’s company alive, get cast as the devil.”

I exhaled, lowering my head again. Their bickering clashed like some disastrous symphony while Papa calmly sipped his tea. And I sit here with a head full of chaos no one else could see.

The only reason I usually chimed in was because if I didn’t, I’d explode. But, even the explosion didn’t come. I was too busy holding back the collapse inside.

Theo.

Claudia.

Abuelo.

Threats.

Family dinners at the Bahr house were usually chaotic, but in a way that felt safe because at least the chaos was ours. But now, I felt like a doll misplaced on their stage. Hollow.

Mama finally noticed my silence. “Dianna?” Her tone softened, though her eyes stayed sharp. “What’s wrong with you?”

I lifted one shoulder. “Nothing.”

Dante piped up again, more cautious this time, though his grin was still wicked. “Maybe it’s because Theo called her sweetheart earlier, Ma. You know, nostalgia can be dangerous.”

I shifted in my chair, turning to Dante with a thin, dangerous smile. My hand slid onto his knee under the table, and he stiffened instantly, terrified of round two.

“Say one more word,” I whispered, “and I’ll make sure you limp tomorrow.”

Dante gulped down the rest of his wine and wisely shut up.

Papa’s eyes softened, his smile telling me he knew I was carrying far more than I was willing to share.

And Mama... she went right back into her tirade, this time about how young people had lost all sense of manners.

I half-listened, my temples pounding, my thoughts dragging me back to the hospital. To that look. To that voice.

“Dianna... my wife...”

My fork stabbed into the meat too hard, the porcelain plate nearly cracking under the pressure.