5: Denial

The rain lashed against my face like tiny needles, soaking through my thin hospital gown as I stumbled out the emergency exit. My hair clung to my skin in dark ropes, mascara running down my cheeks in black rivulets that mingled with tears and rainwater until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Each step sent pain shooting through my bare feet—I hadn't even bothered to put on proper shoes, just those flimsy hospital slippers that disintegrated in the downpour.

I didn't know where I was going—I just knew I needed to keep moving. My steps faltered when another wave of nausea crashed over me, bile rising in my throat as I doubled over, heaving against the side of a building.

Kicked out. Arrested. Pregnant.

I laughed. My trembling hand pressed instinctively against my flat stomach, feeling nothing but the sharp edges of my hipbones.

"Pregnant," I whispered. It was absurd, almost comical in its cruelty.

Now, when I had nothing. When I was nothing.

A crack of thunder split the sky, and I tilted my face up to meet the deluge, letting it wash away tears that wouldn't stop coming. "Fuck you," I whispered to the heavens, to Marco, to the universe that seemed determined to break me piece by piece.

I was truly alone now. My adoptive parents—the only people who'd ever truly loved me—were withering away in a nursing home, dependent on every cent I sent. Marco had made me cut ties with any friends who weren't beneficial to his image. My carefully curated career was already imploding, sponsorships vanishing as quickly as Claudia's "assault" story spread.

And then there was him. The sheer fucking audacity of that man—offering me another marriage, another cage, less than twenty-four hours after I'd clawed my way out of the first one. As if he were some knight in shining armor instead of a shark who smelled blood in the water.

Alejandro De Luca. Everyone knew about the feud between him and Marco—two powerful men whose hatred for each other seemed to go beyond mere business rivalry. In five years of marriage, I'd never once heard Marco speak Alejandro's name without venom dripping from every syllable, had never seen them in the same room without feeling the temperature drop ten degrees.

And now, here was Alejandro, Marco's sworn enemy, helping me—Marco's wife. Ex-wife soon, I corrected bitterly.

"What game are you playing, De Luca?" I muttered, stumbling forward as the wind pushed against me. Whatever it was, I refused to be a pawn again. Once was enough.

The neighborhood grew darker as I wandered further from the hospital, the streets emptier, the buildings more dilapidated. My thin gown clung to my skin, practically transparent now, and I hugged myself tighter, trying to preserve what little warmth and dignity I had left. Fear prickled at the back of my neck as I noticed the shadowy figures lurking in doorways, their eyes following my every step.

I reached for my phone only to find the screen black and unresponsive—dead, like everything else in my life. Of course. Why would the universe give me even the smallest break tonight?

And then I heard it. Footsteps.

Following me.

My heart thundered against my ribs as primal fear surged through my veins. I didn't dare turn around—couldn't bring myself to face whatever new hell awaited me. Instead, I quickened my pace, ignoring the burn in my lungs and the cutting pain in my feet.

The footsteps behind me accelerated in turn.

Run, Estella.

I bolted, my wet gown tangling between my legs as I sprinted down the unfamiliar street. The sound of my harsh breathing and pounding heart drowned out everything except those pursuing footsteps, growing closer with each passing second.

I didn't see the broken concrete ahead. My foot caught the edge of a crack, ankle twisting as I pitched forward with a cry—directly into something solid.

No, not something. Someone.

Strong hands gripped my upper arms, steadying me before I could fall. For one horrific moment, I thought it was Marco, come to finish what he'd started. I thrashed wildly, fingernails clawing at whatever I could reach.

"Let go of me!" I screamed.

"Stop fighting, goddammit," a familiar voice snarled.

Alejandro

I froze, my gaze lifting to meet storm-gray eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. Rain streamed down his face, plastering his dark hair to his forehead and soaking through his expensive suit. He looked... furious.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded, struggling to break free despite the weakness in my limbs.

His grip tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to hold me in place. "Saving you from yourself, apparently." His eyes raked over me, taking in my hospital gown, my bare feet, my general state of disarray. "Jesus Christ, Estella. Do you have a death wish?"

"Maybe I do," I shot back, fresh tears mixing with the rain on my face. "What's it to you? Going to add 'suicide watch' to your revenge plans?"

"You're carrying a child," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Or did you forget that part while you were busy having your health endangered?"

The baby. In my blind panic to escape, I'd forgotten the tiny life that now depended on me.

"I can't—" My voice broke, the words catching in my throat. "I can't do this. I can't be a mother. I can't... I can't..."

My knees buckled, and I would have collapsed if not for Alejandro's arms. He caught me easily, holding me up as sobs tore through my body.

I hated myself for breaking down in front of him, for showing weakness to a man who would surely use it against me later. But I couldn't stop. It was as if every emotion I'd suppressed for years had finally broken through the dam—the fear, the pain, the grief, the rage. It all poured out of me in torrents that matched the storm around us.

And Alejandro... he just held me. His arms were strong and steady, his chest solid against my forehead. He didn't offer empty platitudes or awkward comfort. He simply let me fall apart against him.

When I finally quieted, he spoke, his voice so low I almost didn't hear it over the rain.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you, Estella?"

I didn't answer, couldn't look at him, suddenly acutely aware of how pathetic I must appear.

"I see a woman who survived five years with a monster. I see someone who had the courage to walk away with nothing but the clothes on her back." His voice hardened. "And now I'm watching her throw it all away because she's too goddamn proud to accept help when she needs it most."

My head snapped up, eyes narrowing through swollen lids. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know more than you think." His gaze was unwavering. "I know you're terrified. I know you'd rather die than go back to him. And I know you're smart enough to realize you're out of options."

Before I could form a retort, headlights cut through the darkness as a sleek black car pulled up beside us.

"You have two choices," Alejandro said, his. "Come with me now, or stay out here and see how long you last. Your call, princess, but make it fast. I'm getting soaked, and unlike you, I actually value my health."

I wanted to tell him to go to hell. Wanted to spit in his perfect face and walk away with whatever shreds of dignity I had left. But my body betrayed me—trembling violently, teeth chattering as shock and cold set in. The baby. I had to think about the baby now.

"Fine," I whispered, the word barely audible over the storm.

Without warning, he swept me into his arms—one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back—and carried me to the waiting car.

"I can walk," I protested weakly, even as my body betrayed me by curling into his warmth.

"Clearly," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he deposited me carefully onto the leather seat.

The car's interior was blessedly warm, the soft leather seats a stark contrast to the harsh hospital bench and cold street. Alejandro slid in beside me, closing the door against the howling wind. In the dim light, I could see how his white shirt clung to his chest, how water dripped from his dark hair onto impossibly sharp cheekbones.

He reached over me, pulling a cashmere blanket from a hidden compartment and draping it over my shivering form.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice small and hoarse from crying.

Alejandro leaned back, his profile sharp against the passing streetlights. "My place. Unless you'd prefer a five-star hotel filled with reporters eager for a glimpse of Marco Valdez's disgraced wife?"

I flinched at the title. How quickly that word had become a burden instead of a badge.

"Why are you doing this?"

Alejandro turned to me then, his gray eyes unreadable in the darkness. "I told you. Revenge."

"Against Marco."

"Yes."

"And what happens when you get bored of your little revenge fantasy? When I'm no longer useful to whatever game you're playing?" My voice gained strength with each word, anger a welcome relief from despair. "What happens to me then? To my child?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared at me. "You think I'm like him." It wasn't a question.

"I think you're a man who's offering me a suspiciously generous deal with obvious strings attached." I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. "I think nothing in this world comes for free, especially not from men like you."

He laughed then. "Men like me," he repeated, shaking his head. "You don't know the first thing about what kind of man I am, Estella."

"I know enough."

"Do you?" He leaned closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Then you should know I always keep my promises. And I promise you this—as long as you're carrying that child, you will want for nothing. Not shelter, not food, not protection. Afterward..." He shrugged. "You'll be free to go wherever you want, with enough money to ensure you and the child never have to depend on anyone again."

I searched his face for any sign of deception, any hint of the trap I was sure existed. "And all you want in return is... what? The satisfaction of knowing you've taken something from Marco?"

Something dark flashed in his eyes. "What I want from Marco is far more complicated than you could possibly understand."

"Try me," I challenged.

He held my gaze for a long moment, then looked away, jaw clenched. "Get some rest, Estella. You look like hell."

I was making another mistake. I knew it with absolute certainty. Trading one dangerous man for another, one golden cage for a different kind of prison. But what choice did I have? Where else could I go?

But I realized with bitter clarity that I'd rather face whatever awaited me here than return to the hell I'd left behind.

At least with Alejandro, I knew exactly what I was getting into—a devil's bargain.

And maybe, just maybe, that was better than the false heaven Marco had promised.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​