12: A Better Offer

The room felt like it was shrinking, the walls closing in on the three of us. Raguel moved toward me and my body reacted before my mind did.

I stiffened.

He stopped just close enough.

Then, without asking, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my trembling shoulders. It was warm, carrying that same intoxicating scent of cardamom and sandalwood that had haunted my every waking thought since the night of the trade.

“I told you I was coming back for you,” Raguel said. “I have come to take you away from this place.”

The warmth of the jacket should have been a comfort, but instead, it felt like another set of chains. A sudden clarity washed over me.

This was another man who thought he could order me around.

“No.”

The word came out sharper than I expected.

“Get out,” I muttered. My voice grew stronger as I looked him in the eye. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Get out of my house. I want nothing to do with you, and certainly not your money. Whatever this is, whatever you think this is, it’s not happening.”

Raguel’s eyes flashed briefly, his jaw tightening as if I were a subordinate who had just defied a superior. He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t give him the chance.

“Don’t,” I snapped. “One more word and I’m calling the police. I don’t care how much money you have or who you think you are. Leave.”

A pathetic, desperate laugh came from the floor. Aaron was sitting up now, clutching his bruised shoulder as he glared at Raguel. “You heard her,” he said bitterly. “Get out. I’m already calling the police.”

Raguel didn’t flinch. Instead, a slow, predatory smile spread across his lips as he finally turned his full gaze toward my husband.

“By all means, let them come,” Raguel said, his tone flat and bored. “It would save my legal team the trouble of going down the station to hand over the paperwork for your arrest. I’ve already initiated the filing for a total breach of our agreement.”

Aaron’s bravado vanished instantly, replaced by a flickering, panicked confusion. “What are you talking about? We have a deal. The money was deposited.”

“And more than half of it was gambled away before the ink was dry on the transfer document,” Raguel stated, pulling a small, sleek tablet from his pocket and flicking it toward Aaron.

My head snapped toward Aaron.

“What?”

“I have the logs from the underground casinos you visited. I also have the records of how your ‘uncontrollable stress’ at work was actually a gambling addiction which is what ruined your company the first time,” Raguel added. “Which means, multiple people could sue you for breach of agreement, Aaron.”

I felt as if the floor had dropped out from under me. I stared at Aaron, my heart thudding a painful rhythm. “Gambling? That’s not…” I swallowed hard. “That’s not what you told me.”

“Lyra, stay out of this.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“Stay out of this?” I repeated. “You told me the investors pulled out because of the economy.”

“I said stay out of it!” he snapped.

I flinched.

“You blamed us,” I said, my voice shaking now. “You blamed our marriage. You said things changed after we got married…that I distracted you…”

“Shut up, Lyra!” Aaron hissed, his eyes glued to the tablet. He looked up at Raguel immediately.

“Look,” he said, his tone shifting completely. “We can fix this. I have plans in place. I can get the money back.”

“You already failed to keep it,” Raguel replied.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t recover!” Aaron insisted. “I just need time.”

“You had time.”

“I need more.”

“No.”

That single word landed heavier than anything else.

To my shock, Aaron scrambled to his knees, his dignity completely stripped away as he looked up at Raguel with pleading eyes. “Please, it wasn’t my fault. It was the girl who introduced me to those high-stakes rooms three years ago. She pushed me into it.”

“You mean Tiffany?” Raguel asked.

Aaron stiffened.

“Tiffany?” I echoed. “Who is Tiffany?”

Raguel’s gaze flicked to me for a fraction of a second, filled with a dark, pitying intensity. “He’s referring to his mistress, Lyra. The woman he’s been funding with your household budget while telling you he was ‘traveling for investors’.”

I stared at Aaron, waiting and praying for a denial.

“Aaron?” My voice broke when none came. The betrayal stung hard. “You’ve been cheating on me for three years?”

Instead of a response, he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“We have something bigger at stake right now than your feelings!” He turned back to Raguel, his voice frantic. “Please,” he said. “I’ll fix everything. I swear. Just don’t destroy me over this.”

Raguel watched him.

Then Aaron continued.

“You can have her,” he said quickly. “If that’s what this is about. Take her. You want her as your mistress? Your toy? Do whatever you want with her. Just…overlook the debt. Don’t let them sue me.”

My breath left my lungs.

“What?”

I stepped forward.

“You don’t get to say that!” I snapped. “I’m not something you can—”

“Not now, Lyra!” he barked.

“Enough,” Raguel commanded, and the word vibrated in the very air. He looked at Aaron. “You’re not worth what you’re asking for,” he said plainly.

Aaron’s face fell.

“But,” Raguel continued, “I’m willing to offer you something better.”

Desperate hope flickered in Aaron’s eyes.

“I will make another investment,” Raguel said, his voice cold and terrifyingly calm. “Directly into the company account. I will overlook your ‘theft’ of the initial funds and keep the creditors at bay. But there are two conditions.”

Aaron nodded vigorously, his head bobbing like a puppet’s. “Anything. Name it.”

“First,” Raguel said, stepping closer until his boots were inches from Aaron’s knees. “You will apologize to Lyra. Properly. For the trade, for the lies, and for your behaviour.”

Aaron stiffened, his eyes darting to me with lingering resentment. “Lyra isn’t your business.”

Raguel tilted his head, and his eyes burned a vivid, warning red. Aaron’s breath hitched, and he practically collapsed forward, his forehead touching my bare toes in a display of utter humiliation.

“I'm sorry, Lyra,” Aaron muttered into the floorboards, his voice filled with a forced remorse. “I’m sorry for... everything. I shouldn’t have done it.”

I stood there, numb and overwhelmed, the man who had ruled my life with a slap and a sneer now groveling at my feet.

Aaron exhaled shakily, relief creeping back in.

"And the second condition?" he muttered, looking up with a glimmer of hope.

Raguel reached into the inner pocket of his waistcoat and produced a crisp, white document. He didn’t hand it to Aaron; he dropped it onto the floor in front of him.

Aaron’s eyes scanned the page and then, he froze.

“This,” Raguel said. “You will sign these divorce papers. You will release her from the contract of your marriage, and you will never speak her name again.”