3: Grey Eyes

Tears blurred my vision as I hugged myself, leaning into the cold leather seat, barely holding it together. Each sob ripped through me like a knife, leaving a raw emptiness in its wake, as if I'd drained some vital part of myself I'd never get back.

When had I become this woman? This broken, trembling thing that couldn't even remember what it felt like to stand tall?

A tissue appeared over the seat. I looked up, startled, meeting the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror. They were oddly warm. I took the tissue with a shaking hand, dabbing at the mess on my cheeks, knowing there was no way a thin piece of paper could fix what Marco had broken in me.

"Hope you don't mind," the driver said. "My daughter cries like that sometimes. Says it helps to have something to hold onto."

He adjusted his rearview mirror, and our eyes met for a heartbeat. Something about him looked familiar, as if I'd seen him before, a face from some forgotten moment, but my mind was too foggy with pain and fear to piece it together.

"Where to, ma'am?" His voice gentle, as if he was careful not to shatter me further.

I swallowed. "I... I don't know." I clutched my purse, scrambling for some destination that made sense in this new reality where I had nowhere to go. "Just... take me to the nearest motel."

The word felt bitter on my tongue. Motel. Five hours ago, I'd been Estella Valdez, wife of one of the city's most powerful men. Now I was just... nobody. A woman with a bruised face and three hundred dollars in cash.

The cab rolled to a stop in front of a run-down motel. "VACANCY" blinked in sickly blue light. Paint peeled from the walls, and it looked as worn and tired as I felt. This wasn't where I thought I'd be, but I swallowed hard and forced myself to step out, legs trembling beneath me.

"Let me help you with that." The driver had already pulled my hastily packed suitcase from the trunk as I fumbled in my purse for cash, my fingers still swollen from where Marco had gripped my wrists too tightly.

"Mrs. Valdez?"

I froze, feeling the chill prickle along my spine. That voice didn't belong to the driver. Standing a few feet away was a police officer.

"You're under arrest for theft and assault against Miss Claudia Romanov."

The words didn't register at first, floating in the night air like they belonged to someone else's nightmare. Then they hit me stealing my breath. My throat tightened, air freezing in my lungs. "What?"

The officer didn't even look me in the eye, just continued in a monotone, "You have the right to remain silent..." The rest of his words faded, drowned out by the rush of blood pounding in my ears.

Of course. Of course Marco would do this. He'd always warned me what would happen if I go against him. "No one will believe you. Who are you compared to me?"

I didn't fight as the officer took my arm and shoved me into the back of the police car, the metal handcuffs biting into my already tender wrists. My skin prickled under the stares from strangers gathered on the street, their phones out, recording, capturing my fall. Tomorrow, my face would be everywhere, the headlines would eat this up. I could already imagine Helena's satisfied smile as she watched the news.

Inside the police station, the fluorescent lights were too bright, making me squint through swollen eyes.

Corporal Reyes—from the name on his badge—stood over me as I sat on the hard, cold bench, hands clasped in my lap. His eyes raked over me, taking in my expensive clothes, my perfectly styled hair, the diamond earrings Helena had forgotten to take off in my rush to escape.

His eyes narrowed as he sized me up. He rattled off the charges. "Assault. Theft."

I managed to lift my head, meeting his gaze with whatever strength I could muster. "That's... not true." But my voice was barely there like even it didn't believe me.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that so?" His tone dripped with doubt, as though he'd heard it all before from women like me, and he wasn't about to believe a single word of it.

I clenched my hands, nails biting into my palms,. "I didn't do any of it. Marco and Claudia... they set me up."

He crossed his arms. "Right. And I'm supposed to take your word for it? The wife who found out her husband's cheating and lost it? That's the oldest story in the book, sweetheart."

"It's not like that," I whispered, fighting back fresh tears.

He raised an eyebrow. "Care to explain the bruises on her face and the missing item? Or should I just take your word that the mistress and husband conspired against the poor, innocent wife?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

He pulled out a file from the stack on his desk, flipping it open. "Miss Romanov reports that you stole a valuable watch from her during a family dinner. And then, when confronted, you assaulted her." He looked up. "Witnesses say you were... unhinged."

I shook my head, trying to clear the haze of confusion and fear. "That's not what happened. Claudia and I... we had a disagreement, yes. But I certainly didn't steal anything."

Reyes's expression turned skeptical. "A disagreement? That's an interesting choice of words. Witnesses say it was more than that. They say you were furious and violent."

Witnesses. Of course. Marco and Helena.

He leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine like drills. "Tell me, what exactly were you arguing about?"

My gaze dropped to the table. I swallowed hard, my mouth dry as sandpaper. "Can I... have some water?"

Reyes laughed. "Water? This isn't a five-star resort, princess. You want comfort, you're in the wrong place."

I bit down on my lip, fighting the sting in my eyes. I'd never felt so... stripped bare, every inch of dignity peeled away, layer by painful layer. All those years of trying to be perfect, of smiling through the pain, of pretending my marriage wasn't slowly killing me—all of it crumbled in this sterile room, under this man's contemptuous gaze.

"I need a lawyer," I managed to say, trying to sound steadier than I felt, remembering all those crime shows I'd watched, where that phrase was a shield.

Reyes snorted. "Of course you do. That's what guilty people always say. 'I need a lawyer.'

"You know, I've heard that line so many times, it's lost its charm. 'I'm innocent, I need a lawyer.' Save it for the judge, sweetheart. You're not fooling anyone here."

"You want to play that game? Fine. We'll get you a lawyer. But it won't change the facts. You're going down for this."

He slammed the door shut and left me alone with my thoughts. Marco had won again. He always did.

I don't know how long I sat there, minutes or hours bleeding together in that timeless purgatory. Eventually, Reyes returned, an irritated frown on his face. "Good news for you, princess. Someone bailed you out."

I looked up. "Who?" It couldn't be Marco—he wouldn't ruin his own plan. His family would sooner see me rot. I had no friends left; he'd made sure of that years ago.

Reyes shoved my purse toward me, rolling his eyes. "I don't know, and I don't care. Guess you're luckier than you look."

Outside, the sun hit me like a slap, cool and stinging against my flushed skin. I stumbled, my heels scraping against the pavement, eyes blurring as I searched the empty street. No Marco, no police, just... nothing. I realized I hadn't seen my suitcase—or the driver from earlier. I hadn't even thought to pay him. Guilt gnawed at me, but I was too numb to think clearly.

Where would I go now? Back to Marco, to beg forgiveness? The thought made bile rise in my throat. But I had nowhere else. No money, no friends, no—

As I stepped down the stairs, a wave of dizziness washed over me, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. Exhaustion, fear, hunger—they all crashed over me at once. My legs wobbled, my balance slipping until—

Two strong hands caught me pulling me back from the brink. I inhaled sharply, my senses flooded with the warm, musky scent of smoke and cedar. Slowly, I looked up, my gaze locking onto storm-gray eyes, framed by hair dark as midnight.

"Easy there," a deep voice murmured, steadying me. "I've got you."

In that moment, everything else faded, leaving only the warmth of his hands, the roughness of his jacket under my fingers. His face blurred, but those eyes... they were the only real thing left as the darkness pulled me under.

The last thing I heard before consciousness slipped away was his voice, a rumble of concern: "It's alright, Estella. You're safe now."

But I knew better. In this world Marco had built, I would never be safe again.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​