Chapter Four

Valerie's POV

The sight inside the bedroom struck me like a physical blow. My breath left my lungs, and something deep in my chest shattered beyond repair.

There was Mike. My Mike, the man who had held my hand at my father’s grave only hours ago, the man who had told me he loved me. He lay sprawled across the bed, his skin glowing softly in the lamplight.

And he wasn’t alone. Sarah was with him. My closest friend, the woman I had shared my secrets with, cried with, trusted without question. Her blonde hair was tangled in his pillow, her body pressed against his as they moved together, lost in each other.

A scream burned up my throat—hot, sharp, desperate—but no sound came out. I stood frozen in the doorway, watching the two people I trusted most destroy me.

Mike was the first to notice. His eyes lifted and locked onto mine. For a split second, panic flashed across his face. He jerked away from Sarah like a boy caught stealing, then the panic vanished. His expression hardened, turning cold and distant. Without a word of apology or explanation, he slowly pulled the silk sheets up to cover himself. He looked at me as though I were a stranger who had wandered into the wrong room.

“Valerie,” he said flatly. “What are you doing here?” He dragged the duvet much up to cover himself.

The question hollowed me out. “What am I doing here?” My voice came out thin, barely a whisper. My chest felt too tight to breathe. “You left me at the cemetery, Mike. You said there was an emergency. My house is gone. My money is gone. People are threatening to kill me… and you’re here—with her?” my eyes blurred with tears.

Sarah didn’t even flinch. She sat up slowly, the sheet slipping to her waist, and smirked at me as though I were something unpleasant she’d stepped on. Then she looked away, utterly dismissive.

Mike sighed as if I were exhausting him. He leaned back against the headboard, boredom etched into every line of his face. “Your father is dead,” he said, folding his arms. “The Sergio name means nothing now. Did you really think I was going to sink with you?” Each word landed like a knife.

“I’m a businessman, Valerie. I look out for myself.” He added, unfolding his arms and brushing his fingers on Sarah's hair. The truth began to settle in my mind, slow and poisonous.

“You knew,” I whispered. “You knew they were freezing the accounts.”

He shrugged. “Of course I did. Why do you think I left the cemetery?” He glanced toward the nightstand, uninterested. “I moved everything I could from our joint account before the bank shut it down. You’re broke, Valerie. Completely broke.” There was no pity in his eyes—only calculation. “I don’t stay with women who have nothing,” he added casually, lifting his lips into a wicked, slow smile.

Something inside me shifted. The grief cracked open, and beneath it, anger burned—hot, dark, consuming. I stared at the bed, at the life I thought we had built.

“I loved you,” I said, visibly shaking. It was all I had left.

“Love doesn’t pay for a penthouse.” Mike snapped, his gaze fixed on me without remorse.

He lifted his arm and pointed sharply toward the door. “Leave. You’re a liability now. Dangerous. Anyone who stays near you will lose money—or worse. I’m choosing safety. We’re done.”

Tears began gushing down as I looked at him and at Sarah. This was the man I believed I would marry. The man I trusted with my soul, but truly he wasn’t a harbor. He was a shark—and he had waited for me to bleed.

My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the floor, pride meaningless now. Terror swallowed me whole. I sobbed until my chest burned and my breaths came in painful gasps.

“Mike, please....,” I begged. “I have nowhere to go. Please—just let me stay. We can fix this together. I’ll forget what I saw. I won’t say a word. I don’t even have money for food. I have nothing.”

Mike and Sarah burst into sharp, cruel laughter. Sarah leaned into Mike, tracing her fingers along his arm as she laughed. “You’re pathetic,” she sneered. “Just leave already.”

Mike’s face twisted with disgust. He stood, completely naked, unashamed, and walked to the wardrobe. Reaching into his trousers, he pulled out a crumpled bill and returned, he threw it at my face, and it fluttered to the floor beside my knees. Fifty dollars.

“Go eat something,” he said coldly. “And don’t ever come back begging for another cent.” he said, making finger signs to tally with what he just muttered.

The humiliation burned worse than the betrayal. Tears soaked the black mourning clothes I still wore from my father’s burial. I stared at the money.

This was the same man I had lifted from nothing. I bought his first suits, introduced him to my father’s world, and watched my family opened doors for him. Even this house—my money had paid for it.

For four years, I had slept beside a traitor.

And Sarah? For two years I had paid her rent, fed her, and helped her survive. I had introduced her to Mike myself. And now, this was my reward.

“They’re coming after me,” I said weakly. “My father’s debt—they said they’d kill me if…”

“Get out!” they shouted together before I could even finish. “It’s your problem, Valerie,” Mike said, already turning his back. “Not mine.”

I rose slowly, hollow and numb. Whatever had kept me alive until that moment finally snapped. I walked out without closing the door, leaving their shame exposed even if they didn’t feel it.

My hands shook as I grabbed my bag in the hallway. In the elevator, the thought of death felt comforting. Quiet. Final. Everyone I loved was gone—or a monster. I just wanted peace.

Rain lashed down as I stepped outside. I didn’t care if the people hunting me found me. I almost hoped they would. My car waited in the dark parking space, cold and silent. I unlocked it, slid inside, and slammed the door shut.

I didn’t start the engine. I didn’t turn on the lights. I sat there gripping the steering wheel, crying until my throat burned and my chest ached. The dashboard stared back at me, empty and dark.I had no home. No father. No love.

For the first time, I wondered if I had the strength to keep living. The rain drummed against the roof of the car, steady and relentless, like a countdown. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the steering wheel, my body trembling from exhaustion. Dying would be easy. Peaceful, even.

But then my father’s face surfaced in my mind—not the pale body in the coffin, but the man he had been. Strong. Proud. Unyielding. “You don’t kneel to fate, Valerie,” he had once told me. You make it kneel to you.

My fingers tightened around the wheel.

They had taken everything from me—my money, my home, my love, my dignity. But they hadn’t taken my name. They hadn’t taken my will. If I died tonight, Mike would sleep soundly in the bed I paid for. Sarah would laugh. My enemies would win without effort.

No. If this was hell, then I would walk through it alive. I started the engine. The sound shattered the silence, then I pulled out of the parking space and drove into the rain with no destination, no plan—only the instinct to survive.