Chapter 3

Liliana’s Point of View

A harsh beam of sunlight slid through the hotel room window and struck my face. I blinked, groaned, then squeezed my eyes shut as pain speared my skull, rippled down my back, and throbbed between my thighs. What on earth happened to me? It felt as though I had fought a war in my sleep.

Something warm curled around my waist. I opened my eyes and found myself nose‑to‑chest with a man— solid, sculpted, his bare torso pressed against me. I lifted my gaze to his face. Familiar, yet I could not place him at first.

Memory flared. Gerald in bed with Mirabelle. My scream. A hotel attendant who shielded me, called himself my husband, and offered loyalty when my world collapsed. Fern.

I inhaled sharply. I had dragged that innocent staff member into my chaos, into a bar, into my bed. Heat flooded my cheeks.

Please, make love to me.

The words I had begged last night echoed in my mind. Mortifying.

“I am sorry,” I whispered.

The room was elegant, hushed. Fern slept soundly, arms loosely encircling the pillow I had slipped into his embrace before dawn. Moving gingerly, I dressed, wincing at the bruises that proved exactly what we had done.

I set money on the bedside table—poor compensation for stealing his innocence—and noticed the ring on my finger. Two rings, in fact. He had placed only one on my hand during last night’s confrontation with Gerald. Now there were two. I slid both rings off, laid them beside the cash, and traced their cool circles with my fingertip.

He lightened my heart more than anyone ever had. Yet I could not chain him to my broken life. Better to disappear.

I glanced at the clock and swore. Late for work. My body ached, my head throbbed, and still I had to move. I whispered, “Thank you for coming into my life,” then fled, grabbing my bag on the run.

In the elevator I tried to tame my hair. My reflection showed a faint bite mark at my throat; I hid it under my curls. Reaching the lobby, I hurried outside, caught a taxi, and hugged my bag while regret churned inside me.

I had given my virginity to a man I barely knew, not to the fiancé I had loved for three years.

My phone vibrated: My love flashed on the screen. I ended the call and retitled Gerald’s contact The Cheater. Tears threatened; I bit my lip, refusing to cry again.

“South Street, please,” I told the driver. I would hide at Grandma’s house. She and Grandpa had raised me after my parents died.

But Grandma called before I arrived. “Apo, Gerald is here in the living room looking for you. Is something wrong?”

Panic rattled me. “Grandma, I stepped out for personal errands. Please tell him I will not be home today. Make him leave, okay? I need to go now. Love you.”

I hung up and chewed my thumbnail. Home was impossible. Work, then. I kept spare clothes at the office and there was a staff lounge with bunks. Gerald and Mirabelle worked in the same company, but surely they would be absent after last night’s scandal.

“Driver, let me out here.”

I paid the fare, climbed out, and faced the towering glass building. Every step hurt, feverish heat licking my skin. I rummaged in my purse for my ID but could not find it. The sidewalk tilted; my hangover spun the world.

Never drinking again, ever.

Black spots danced before my eyes. My knees buckled—and two strong arms caught me.

“Liliana.” Jack’s voice. Gerald’s colleague and my only true friend in that circle.

“Jack,” I breathed. “Do not let Gerald know I’m here.” The darkness swallowed me.

Third‑Person Point of View

Jack scooped Liliana into his arms and burst through the security gates. Guards recognized him and waved them toward the company clinic. Nurses clucked in concern; within minutes an IV line dripped fluid into her vein and a thermometer showed a soaring fever.

“What did Gerald do to her?” Jack muttered, fury and pity warring in his chest. He knew enough of Gerald’s behavior to despise it. Gently he smoothed Liliana’s hair. “I will protect you,” he promised.

Across the parking lot a sleek limousine glided to a stop. Employees straightened, whispering. The rear door opened and a tall man stepped out, immaculate in a charcoal suit, expression carved from stone.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Windermere,” executives chorused, bowing.

Asher Windermere adjusted his cuff links and strode toward the building without acknowledging them. His secretary Caleb hurried to his side.

“For today’s agenda—”

“Caleb, locate my wife in this company.”

All conversation froze. Caleb blinked. “Sir?”

Asher handed him an employee ID badge—the one Liliana had mislaid. “No one else needs to know who she is yet. Announce only that I am married. Find her and bring her to my office immediately.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Caleb marched away, heartbeat hammering. Somewhere inside this massive corporation, the woman on that badge lay unaware that her life was about to change again.

*******

LMCD22