Chapter 5 – Friendly Relations

Pedro Hernandez

“I’m so happy you’re home. It’s been so many years, so long without you.”

My mother’s tone betrays how much she suffered in my absence—though she wasn’t the only one.

“Yeah, it has. But I’m back now, and Max won’t keep me away again,” I say firmly.

She looks at me, her eyes glistening.

“You’ve grown so handsome. A strong, grown man.” Her hand gently touches my bearded face. “I’m sorry it took me so long to bring you back, mijo.”

I offer a small smile, trying to comfort her. None of this is her fault. The only one to blame is Maxwell Hernandez.

“How did you find out?”

“He left us a video explaining what he did to you.” Her voice is solemn, heavy. “He also left something for you-on a flash drive. I didn’t intrude. That’s between you two. But the moment I found out where you were, I sent Bruno immediately.”

I nod in agreement.

“Even after seven years, I still can’t understand why he wanted to tear me away from Adrielle. I can’t forgive him for that.” I don’t meet her eyes as I speak, my head hanging low.

“He was cruel, Pedro.” Her voice is quiet, as if the words reveal something she’s tried to deny. “And he was wrong. You two were a beautiful couple. But now… you need to move forward. I’m not saying you have to take over the company and turn bitter, but you deserve to reclaim the years that were stolen from you. You’ll readjust to life in L.A.” Her hands lift my face, forcing me to meet her gaze. “Adrielle is married now, of course. You probably already know—Bruno must have told you.”

“He didn’t.” I glance sideways at Bruno, who’s been standing silently in the room with us. “But I saw her. With her husband. With their daughter. They look… happy.”

She offers a small, tender smile.

“She’s a good woman. You should talk to her—clear the air. Not to rekindle anything, but to settle the past. You two could be friends.”

I stare at her, incredulous. My jaw drops.

“How am I supposed to be friends with a woman I loved that much?” My eyes search hers.

“It’s better that way, Pedro,” she says calmly. “Go to Los Angeles General Hospital. She’s the director there. Lyla also works there—she’s the assistant director. Reconnect with your old friends. They missed you just as much as I did.”

“Will you be okay if I go? I don’t want to leave you alone again.” My voice is soft, sincere.

My mother smiles, gently stroking my cheek.

“We’re in the same city now, dear. I know you’ll come home at the end of the day.” There’s certainty in her voice. “But be back for lunch. Remember, we have the will reading later.”

I smile faintly. The will makes me uneasy. Honestly, I don’t even believe Max left one. But I’m curious about his final moves.

I know I should stay longer, spend time with her, but there are unresolved things with Adrielle—things I need to face. I take a deep breath.

It’s time to lay all my cards on the table.

♙

The city has changed. Los Angeles is even more chaotic than I remember. I regret driving—I dismissed the chauffeur. I don’t want him around. He’s a reminder of what Max did.

The hospital corridors smell like disinfectant. The polished porcelain floors gleam, spotless. The walls are a soft shade, dotted with strategically placed green plants—probably to offset the sterile emptiness. The reception area is spacious, with three counters, though only two women are stationed there—one blonde, the other brunette with a sun-kissed tan.

I’m about to approach and ask for the hospital director when a familiar female voice stops me.

I turn and see an old friend.

“Can I help you?” Lyla asks, her tone polite.

She looks different. Not just because of the white lab coat, but her whole presence has shifted. Everyone has. Her hair, once a light brown, is now a cascade of dark waves. The name on her coat reads: Lyla Garcia.

Victor Garcia’s last name.

They were dating back then. Now, they’re married—the golden band on her finger confirms it. I can’t help the small smirk. They were a sickeningly sweet couple back in the day. Then again, who wasn’t?

“So you married Victor,” I remark.

Her brow furrows, confusion flickering across her face. She doesn’t recognize me. Seven years have aged me—thinned me out. I’m still in shape, but depression has a way of hollowing you out.

"Sorry… do we know each other?”

I exhale, slipping my hands into the pockets of my navy slacks.

“It’s been seven years, Lyla. I didn’t think you’d forget me.” I press a hand to my chest, feigning offense.

Her lips part. She freezes for five full seconds.

“Pedro…” My name leaves her lips like a whisper, as if she’s seeing a ghost.

I give her a small smile.

“W-what are you doing here? When did you get back?” She stammers, eyes raking over me. Then, suddenly, she stops.

Oh no. I know that look.

Her eyes narrow.

“You b*st*rd!” Her hands smack my chest. “You left without a word to anyone! Do you have any idea how much pain you caused?”

For a second, I forget she’s the assistant director and we’re in a hospital. People are staring.

“Ow! Is this how you say you missed me?” I raise a brow, catching her wrists.

She shakes her head—then pulls me into a hug.

“Still a jerk,” she mutters.

 I have explanations.”

“And someone else deserves to hear them.”

I pull back. I know who she means.

And she’s right.

Adrielle deserves the truth.

"She’s married now. With kids," I say, the words bitter.

"She is. And she suffered after you disappeared. Seven years without a word, Pedro. The media mentioned you once or twice—then nothing."

I look away, focusing on the potted plants lining the hallway.

"Max silenced them. That’s what he did." My voice is cold. "I don’t want Adrielle thinking I left by choice. I never wanted to leave her."

Lyla studies me, skepticism tightening her features.

"Then why did you go?"

"Max forced me."

"I don’t believe he’d go that far."

"Neither did I," I say flatly. "But when two guns are pointed at you, options disappear fast."

The air between us turns leaden.

Lyla doesn’t argue. She just absorbs the weight of my words.

I try to shift the mood.

"How’s Victor?"

She blinks, recalibrating. Then, a small smile.

"Still the same. But he’s a good dad now."

"No way. Victor? A dad?"

I'm surprised and happy for them. I always knew they'd make a great couple and wonderful parents. Lyla gives a small smile, nodding in agreement.

"You'll meet him later. He's a good boy." Her face lights up when she talks about her son.

"Please," I say, placing my right hand over my heart. "I want to see Victor—I just need to talk to Adrielle first."

Lyla looks at me seriously. Her expression says she knows exactly why I'm here—that I'm looking for Adrielle no matter what.

"She's not at the hospital. She's with Leonard."

I frown. Who’s Leonard?

Lyla seems to read my mind because she adds:

"Her husband. Leonard Williams. I thought you might’ve heard of him." She tilts her head slightly. "Leonard used to be your father’s right-hand man before he died. He’s a high-profile lawyer in the city. You’ll meet him if you go to the company."

"We have the will reading later—we’ll see if I have the displeasure of meeting him then." My voice is dry. "But right now, I need time to process everything and reconnect with old friends." I hold her gaze.

"Victor will be glad you're back—though I think all of us will yell at you first." She laughs, amused by the thought.

I chuckle quietly to myself.

"We'll have time to explain what happened." I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling trapped, like I can’t get enough air. "I need Adrielle to know I didn’t abandon her. And I want to make up for lost time, fix the damage Max caused."