CHAPTER FOUR: THE PRICE OF BELONGING

[LORENZO’S POINT OF VIEW]

The night had been long. Too long.

Even in the quiet of my penthouse, the memory of Luciana beneath me refused to leave my mind. Her trembling body, her soft gasps, the tears she tried to hide as I claimed her. She was untouched, pure, yet she gave herself to me because of a contract.

Because I demanded it.

I leaned back in my leather chair, a slow, satisfied grin curling on my lips. Finally, the first move had been made. Everything was falling into place—just as I had planned.

The thought of her, oblivious to the trap she was walking into, only fueled my satisfaction. Every step she took from now on was mine to control, and soon... she'd have nowhere to run.

The sound of papers being stacked pulled me from my thoughts. Gino stood a few feet away, neat as always, but there was something in his eyes—a quiet hesitation he was trying to hide.

"Prepare the first payment for Miss Bautista," I said finally, my tone flat.

"Yes, sir." He adjusted his glasses. "It will be delivered this afternoon. And her grandmother's hospital expenses are already being processed."

I gave a short nod, but Gino didn't leave.

"Sir..." His voice was cautious. "Are you really going to go through with this plan? Even if she gets pregnant?"

I didn't hesitate. "That's the point. That's the entire plan, Gino."

Gino tilted his head a little, his tone almost casual. "But how can you make her suffer like that when she's carrying your child? You know it can affect the baby."

I gave a short, humorless laugh. "Do you think I care if the baby suffers? I don't care about the baby." I let the words hang in the air, savoring the way his expression darkened. "The baby is nothing to me, just a means to an end. It's not about raising it—it's about using it. She'll carry it for nine months, thinking it's her reason to keep breathing, and then I'll take it away. Leave her with nothing."

"She's not the one who betrayed you, sir. That was her father. She doesn't even know what her father did to your family, sir. She's innocent in that."

"She's his blood. Luci walks around thinking she's innocent," I continued, a cruel smile tugging at my lips. "But she carries the blood of the man who destroyed my family. She smiles, she laughs, she breathes—and every second of it insults me. She doesn't know the truth, but ignorance isn't innocence. I'll make sure her last days are filled with pain she can't escape, and when she finally breaks... I'll take what she loves most."

⸻

(Flashback)

I was eighteen when I overheard my parents arguing in the study. My father—once a man who commanded every boardroom he entered—was pacing, his face pale, his voice raw.

"He sold us out," he growled. "He took the deal we were negotiating for months and handed it to our competitors—for a price."

My mother's gasp was sharp. "But he was your partner—your friend—"

"He was nothing but a snake," my father spat. "Because of him, our stocks will crash. We'll lose everything we've built."

And we did.

Within months, the empire my father had spent his life building was in ruins. The man who had once stood proud... became a shadow.

He drowned himself in silence and liquor until I found him lifeless in his study—surrounded by unpaid bills and empty bottles.

Just because of Robert Bautista.

⸻

(End Flashback)

That day, as I stood by my father's grave, I made myself a promise—I would take back everything we lost. I would rebuild our empire, piece by piece, and when the time came, I would make the Bautistas pay for what they did.

So I worked—harder than anyone else, smarter than anyone else—until I dragged our company back from the ashes. I turned it into something even greater, and by the time I was twenty-eight, I was a billionaire. But none of the wealth, none of the success, dulled the fire of that vow.

Because this isn't just business. This is personal.

"She'll suffer," I said now, my tone deadly calm. "Every day of that pregnancy will be a chain around her neck. And when I take the baby away, it will break her completely."

For a moment, Gino shifted his weight, as if debating whether to speak. "She... doesn't deserve that. Whatever her father did, she—"

"She's his daughter," I cut him off sharply. "His blood runs through her veins. That's enough. Sins are paid for by blood. Hers. The baby's. It's all the same to me."

"Sir, revenge can be taken in many ways. Some... less permanent." Gino said, choosing each word like it might cut the wrong way.

"I'm not interested in less," I said coldly.

Gino's lips pressed together. "...And if she doesn't survive it?"

I looked him dead in the eye. "Then she doesn't survive it."

For the briefest moment, I saw something flash in his gaze—disapproval, maybe even pity for her—but he swallowed it down, bowing his head. "Understood, sir."

He left without another word, the door shutting quietly behind him.

Alone, I turned back to the city lights outside my window.

This wasn't about the baby. It never was.

This was about revenge. And I wouldn't stop until Robert Bautista's daughter knew what it was like to lose everything.

Inside, I could already see it—the fear in her eyes, the helplessness in her voice. That was the justice I craved.

---

[LUCIANA'S POINT OF VIEW]

I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the sheets tightly. My body ached in ways I had never known before. I shifted uncomfortably, heat rising to my cheeks as the memories of last night flooded back.

The way he had looked at me. The way he had touched me. The way he had taken me as if he owned me.

I had given everything to Lorenzo Illustre. My first kiss. My first touch. My first night.

And yet, this morning, he hadn’t even looked at me before leaving. No word. No glance. Nothing.

A sharp knock on the door broke the silence. I quickly wiped at my eyes, forcing myself to stand.

It was Gino, holding a brown envelope.

“Good morning, Miss Bautista,” he said politely. “As promised, this is your first payment. And your grandmother’s hospital bills are already being taken care of.”

My hands shook as I accepted the envelope. I opened it slowly, my breath catching at the sight of the thick stack of bills. Enough to cover our debts. Enough to keep Grandma safe.

“Thank you,” I whispered, though my voice cracked.

Gino’s expression softened. “Mr. Illustre… he always keeps his word. Even if his ways are difficult.”

I nodded, unable to find the right words.

That afternoon, I made my way to the hospital. The scent of antiseptic filled the air as I stepped into the room.

“Luci!” Grandma’s tired face brightened as soon as she saw me. She looked frail, but her smile made my chest ache.

“You look tired, anak. Have you been working too hard?” she asked softly.

I forced a smile, sitting beside her and taking her hand. “I… I got a job, Grandma. A good one. It pays enough to help us.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she squeezed my hand weakly. “I knew you’d find a way.”

I smiled back, though guilt clawed at my chest. She believed me. She didn’t know the truth—that I had sold my body, my innocence, for the roof over our heads.

Just then, the door creaked open, and my Auntie Rosa stepped inside. She carried a small bag of fruit and a warm smile.

“Luci,” she said softly, setting the bag down on the side table. “I came as soon as I heard Tita was admitted. Don’t worry, I’ll stay with her while you’re at work.”

Relief washed over me, and I quickly stood to hug her. “Thank you, Auntie. I… I was so worried about leaving her alone.”

Rosa gently brushed Grandma’s hair from her forehead, her eyes soft. “Focus on your job, anak. I’ll make sure she’s cared for.”

I nodded quickly, fighting the lump in my throat. “Please… don’t let her stress too much. She needs to rest.”

“I know,” Auntie said with a reassuring smile. “Leave it to me.”

Grandma stirred, her eyes opening slightly. She looked between us and whispered faintly, “I’m lucky… to have both of you.”

Tears stung my eyes as I leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Rest now, Grandma. You’ll get better soon.”

As she drifted back to sleep, I sat there silently, staring at her fragile form while Auntie Rosa squeezed my shoulder gently.

The envelope in my bag felt heavier than bricks. A reminder of the price I had paid.

I whispered softly, “I’ll protect you, Grandma. Even if it means giving up myself.”

But deep down, I wondered if I was slowly losing more than just myself.

I left the hospital, guilt gnawed at me so fiercely it hurt to breathe.

By the time I returned to the penthouse, the sun had already set. The lights were dim, and the silence felt heavy. I thought he wasn’t home, and for a brief moment, I let myself relax.

Then I heard it.

“You’re late.”

I froze, my breath catching. Slowly, I turned.

Lorenzo sat on the couch, his tall frame relaxed but his eyes sharp, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His tie hung loose, but the intensity in his gaze made my knees weak.

He set the glass down and stood, walking toward me with calm, measured steps.

“You went to the hospital without telling me,” he said, his tone low and cold.

I clutched my bag tighter. “I… I just wanted to see Grandma.”

“I don’t recall giving you permission.”

Heat rushed to my face. “She’s sick. I had to—”

His eyes narrowed, silencing me instantly. “Don’t mistake kindness for freedom, Luciana. You belong to me now.”

My chest tightened. “I understand,” I whispered.

“Good.” His lips curved into a smirk, though his eyes stayed dark. He leaned close enough that I felt his breath against my skin. “Because next time, you won’t walk out of this house without me knowing. Do you understand?”

I nodded quickly, my heart racing.

His eyes roamed my face, lingering just a moment too long before he stepped back.

“Go to your room,” he ordered, his voice calm but commanding. “I’ll be there soon.”

My stomach dropped, heat and fear tangling inside me.

Something was about to happen again.