4: Shattered

The world slipped back into focus, muffled sounds of machines and soft beeps dragging me awake. My eyes felt heavy, and I blinked slowly, disoriented. The antiseptic scent of the hospital hit me, making my stomach twist with nausea. I tried to shift, only to feel a dull ache radiate through my body, and that's when I noticed the IV drip attached to my hand, the thin tube snaking up to a half-empty bag of clear fluid.

"Severely dehydrated," a distant voice said. "Her condition could have worsened had she remained untreated."

Condition? What condition?

I blinked slowly, confusion clouding my thoughts as I fought to stay conscious. Why was I in a hospital? The last thing I remembered was those gray eyes, the feeling of strong arms catching me as I fell. Who had brought me here?

Darkness pulled me under again before I could find answers.

When I resurfaced, the room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of paper.

"Finally awake, princess?"

I turned my head, eyes landing on a man leaning against the door, arms folded across a broad chest. I recognized him instantly—the notorious playboy and one of Marco's business rivals.

What the hell was he doing here?

I tried to push myself up, but my body protested, muscles screaming from exhaustion. "What... happened?"

"You fainted," he replied, almost bored, examining his expensive watch. "In front of the police station, no less. Quite the scene. Page Six would have loved it if I hadn't scared away the vultures."

I swallowed, embarrassment burning my cheeks. "I didn't ask for your help."

"And yet here you are, alive because of it." He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms tighter. The sleeves of his tailored suit jacket stretched across well-defined biceps. "Or would you have preferred to be left on the street? Maybe that cab driver could have picked you up again—after he finished taking photos for the tabloids."

I glared at him, wishing I had the strength to wipe that smug look off his impossibly perfect face. Of course Alejandro would be the one to find me at my lowest. The universe's cruelest joke.

I tried to sit up again, wincing at the ache in my muscles. "If you're here for some kind of thank you, you're wasting your time."

His lips curved into a smirk that had probably melted a thousand hearts but only made mine harden further. "I don't need it anyway. Your gratitude isn't worth much these days, is it?"

Before I could retort with something equally cutting, a petite nurse walked in, glancing between us with a polite smile as she moved to adjust the IV and check a monitor for my vitals. Alejandro stepped back, arms crossed, watching the interaction with an unreadable expression that made me feel exposed, like he was cataloging my every weakness.

"Dr. Patel will be in shortly," the nurse said, as she checked my chart. "Your dehydration was concerning, but there's something else we need to discuss with you." Her eyes flicked to Alejandro and back to me, clearly uncertain about speaking freely in front of him.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving an uneasy silence in her wake. I swallowed hard, anxiety clawing its way into my chest. Alejandro's eyes were still on me, piercing, like he was peeling back layers I'd spent years carefully constructing.

"You don't have to stay," I said, hating how small my voice sounded. "I'm sure you have models to seduce or companies to destroy."

Before he could respond, the door opened again, and Dr. Patel entered. She glanced at Alejandro with a frown, then focused on me.

"Estella, I need to discuss your condition with you." She hesitated, looking pointedly at Alejandro.

"He's not staying," I said quickly.

"Actually, I am." He stepped forward, placing a hand on the rail of my hospital bed. "I'm the one who brought her in. I'm the one who paid the bill. And I'm the one making sure she doesn't end up back on the street."

Dr. Patel looked between us, clearly sensing the tension. With a small sigh, she continued, "It appears... you're pregnant."

I stared at her, struggling to process what she'd just said, the room suddenly spinning around me.

Pregnant?

My hand instinctively moved to my stomach. Marco's child. The baby he thought I couldn't give him. The child who would be half him, carrying his blood, his DNA.

"However, given your... condition, the pregnancy is delicate." Dr. Patel's voice seemed to come from far away. "There are signs of trauma, and you're at a high risk of miscarriage. You'll need to be very careful, especially in the coming weeks."

Alejandro's gaze burned into me, and I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I felt raw, exposed, like my skin had been peeled away to reveal everything I'd been hiding. The bruises Marco had left, inside and out. The shame that followed me.

The doctor hesitated,. "Have you... been hurt recently? I noticed some bruising around your wrists and neck, and there are older injuries that concern me—"

"No." My voice came out harsher than I intended. "There's nothing." I forced myself to hold Alejandro's gaze, refusing to let him see the cracks beneath my facade.

He simply raised an eyebrow, his silence louder than any accusation.

The doctor nodded. "If you experience any pain, or..." She trailed off, glancing at Alejandro, then quickly excused herself, promising to return with discharge papers.

As soon as she left, Alejandro's stare intensified, his lips pressing into a thin line. "So you're just going to pretend everything's fine? That those marks on your wrists came from... what? An aggressive spa treatment?"

I looked away. "What I do isn't any of your business."

"Oh, it's not, is it?" He scoffed, stepping closer until I could smell his cologne. "If you think you're fooling anyone, you're delusional. The great Estella Valdez, social media darling, perfect wife—all a lie, isn't it?"

I shot him a glare, ignoring the way my pulse jumped at his proximity. "I don't need you to play hero, Alejandro. Go find another damsel to save."

"Hero?" He let out a bitter laugh that held no humor. "Trust me, Estella, I'm far from a hero. I'm just a man who's tired of watching you destroy yourself for someone who treats you like property."

"You don't know anything about me or my marriage."

"I know enough," he countered, leaning in. "I'm not blind, Estella. I can see the bruises. I can see the fear in your eyes. I'm not some fool you can brush off with your stubborn pride."

I looked away, the shame gnawing at me like acid. The bruises... the scars Marco had left... they were etched into my skin, marks of my failure, my weakness, my inability to be what he needed.

"Who did this to you? Marco?" His voice was quieter this time, the arrogance fading, replaced by something that sounded almost... concerned. But I couldn't trust it, couldn't let myself believe in the sincerity behind his words. Men like Alejandro didn't care—they used, they took, they destroyed.

Just like Marco.

"Just... leave me alone," my voice shaky as tears threatened to choke me. "I don't need your pity."

"Pity?" He scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "I don't waste pity on people who wallow in self-destruction. What I feel for you is something else entirely."

What was he saying? What could he possibly want with me, broken and pregnant with another man's child?

Before I could fire back, my phone buzzed on the table beside me. Alejandro handed it to me, his fingers brushing mine for the briefest moment, sending an unwelcome spark of electricity up my arm. My fingers trembled as I unlocked it, and a wave of dread washed over me.

Photos of my arrest had flooded social media, each image more humiliating than the last—my tear-streaked face, handcuffs on my wrists, the bewildered shock in my eyes. The captions were cruel: "Estella Valdez arrested after assaulting husband's pregnant mistress." "From socialite to criminal: Estella's jealous rampage." The messages were endless—former friends, supporters, sponsors, all condemning me without a second thought.

Claudia had won. Marco had won. They'd painted me as the villain in their love story, and the world had eaten it up.

Alejandro watched as I scrolled.

"Congratulations," I said bitterly, throwing the phone onto the bed. "Looks like the world finally sees me as the monster they always wanted. You've got a front-row seat to my complete destruction. Hope it's entertaining."

"Marry me."

I looked up, disbelief painted across my face. "What?"

He shrugged, as casual as if he'd suggested getting coffee. "A business arrangement. You need security for the child. You need protection from Marco. I need..." His eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of something dark in them. "I need revenge. We both do."

"Revenge?" I spat the word out like poison. "You want to use my child as a pawn in whatever game you're playing with Marco?"

"Why not?" he replied coolly. "Your precious Marco and Claudia have done far worse, haven't they? Think of this as..." He paused, searching for the right words. "Mutually assured destruction. They took everything from you. Now you take everything from him."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I cut him off. "You're sick, Alejandro. Twisted."

He leaned in closer, his face just inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin. "I'm a lot of things, Estella. But unlike you, I don't lie to myself about what I am."

I wanted to slap him, to scream, but all I could do was sit there, feeling trapped, cornered. He was right—I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Marco had made sure of that, systematically cutting off every friend, every family connection, until he was my entire world. And he knew it. Alejandro knew it too.

I felt something inside me crack, a dam breaking after years of pressure. I looked at Alejandro. "You know what? Just get out. I don't need your pity or your help or your twisted revenge fantasy."

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed by my outburst. "You're being reckless. Where exactly do you plan to go? Back to Marco? To the streets? You're carrying a child, Estella."

I ripped the IV from my arm, ignoring the sting of pain and blood trailing down my skin. "If I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it."

He reached out, gripping my arm before I could stumble. "Are you insane?" His voice was harsh, filled with a kind of frustration that took me by surprise. "You're in no condition to be pulling stunts like this."

I met his gaze "Here." I reached into my purse, pulled out the few bills I had left, and shoved them into his chest. "For your troubles. For the hospital bills. Mail me an invoice if it's not enough. I'll pay you back."

His eyes darkened, but he didn't move as the money fell between us, fluttering to the hospital floor like dead leaves. He stared at it, then back at me, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"You think that's all it costs to deal with you? Keep your money, Estella. You'll need it more than I do. But remember this moment when you're sleeping in your car, or worse—crawling back to a man who treats you like property."

I met his stare. "I don't need anything from you, Alejandro. I never have."

For a moment, he just looked at me, something like disappointment in his eyes. Then, he shook his head, his voice. "You don't know when to accept help, do you? Even when it's right in front of you."

My fists clenched, but there was nothing left to say. I turned, stumbling toward the door, my vision blurring as tears burned at the edges of my eyes.

"I'll be waiting," he called after me, his voice following me down the hall. "When you're ready."