Victor' POV
He swallowed hard. “There’s been an accident on the highway.” His eyes darted to mine, fearful. “It’s… Miss Valeria. They said she… she’s dead... after jumping off the bridge...”
For a second, I thought I misheard him. My chest tightened, then loosened with a laugh that tore out of me.
“Are you kidding me?” I snapped, staring at the butler’s pale face. “That can’t happen. Valeria? Jump off a bridge? No. She’s too stubborn for that. She’d scream, she’d fight—she wouldn’t end herself.”
I stepped closer, my tone sharp, desperate to cut through the absurdity. “Did she put you up to this? Is she trying to scare me? Another one of her little tantrums?”
The butler only shook his head. “No, sir. The police are confirming it now. They’re searching the river for her body.”
Silence pressed against the room, heavy and suffocating.
And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. Valeria had pulled tricks before. I remembered one night—clear as day—when we’d fought so badly she stormed out of the house with nothing but a small bag. She’d screamed that she was done with me, done with all of us, that she’d never return. I’d laughed then, told myself she’d cool down. And I was right.
Two days later, I saw her at the gate. She was pale, her eyes swollen from crying, but she was back. Always back. Because she had nowhere else to go. No one else to turn to. I was her only choice, and she knew it.
That’s why this couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be dead. She was dramatic, emotional, but in the end… she always came back to me. Always.
Leo chuckled darkly beside him. “Yeah. Don’t get your hopes up. I’ll bet she shows up in a week, crying about how we didn’t care enough. She loves playing the victim.”
Their laughter grated against my ears. I wanted to agree, to believe their mockery, but something inside me twisted. A knot I couldn’t explain.
Marcella, however, clutched her chest and gasped softly. Her voice quivered like a stage actress. “We should… we should at least look for her. Please, Victor. She’s still your—”
“Don’t.” I cut her off, raising a hand. “Don’t act like you care. You hated her as much as we did.”
Her lips trembled, but behind her glassy eyes, I caught it—the flicker of satisfaction. Relief.
And it was true. I knew it. Marcella’s hatred for Valeria had been simmering for years, even before she disappeared. She wore it behind her smiles, hid it beneath the façade of being the sweet, fragile sister. But I’d seen the way her eyes sharpened whenever Valeria walked into a room, the way her tone would shift with that edge of resentment whenever Valeria was praised by their father.
Marcella never forgave her for being the favored one. She envied the inheritance, the trust, the attention. Every whispered lie, every scheme she pulled—it always circled back to one thing: her hatred of Valeria.
So no, she couldn’t fool me now with trembling lips and crocodile tears. If Valeria was gone, Marcella was the last person who’d grieve.
I exhaled and forced a smile, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “She’s nothing, Marcella. Not even my wife. Just a woman who overstayed her welcome. Let her be.”
Marcella leaned into me, her fake tears dampening my shirt. “You’re right… it’s going to be okay. You have me now.”
I kissed the top of her head. “Exactly. And I’m not losing you again. Forget her.”
Adrian smirked. “Good riddance.”
Leo shrugged. “Less mess for us.”
And so the day dragged on. We sat together, drinking, talking about business, planning the next steps as if Valeria had been erased from existence. I told myself she would reappear, storming through the doors with accusations and tears. She always did.
But the hours passed. No sign. No call.
Until the phone in my hand buzzed again. A text message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
“The body has been recovered.”
The words glared at me. My vision blurred. My hand shook until the phone slipped and clattered onto the floor.
Marcella rushed to my side. “Victor? What is it?”
I bent down slowly, my chest hammering like a war drum. “They found her. Her body. She’s… dead.”
The air felt heavy. Too heavy to breathe.
For the first time, no laughter came from Adrian or Leo. Their smiles faltered, the room going eerily quiet.
“No…” Marcella whispered, covering her mouth. “No, Victor, it can’t be—”
But her eyes gleamed. She wasn’t mourning. She was savoring.
I didn’t wait. My legs moved before my mind caught up. I grabbed my coat and bolted through the doors, my footsteps pounding against the marble floor, echoing through the hall.
My car roared to life, and I drove like a man possessed, the world outside blurring into streaks of gray and red. My hands clenched the steering wheel so tight they went numb.
“She’s not dead,” I muttered to myself. “She can’t be. Valeria wouldn’t do this. She can’t leave me like this.”
But the message… the certainty of it gnawed at me.
When I arrived at the scene, flashing red and blue lights blinded me. The bridge loomed overhead, guarded by yellow tape. Officers stood near the edge, their voices low, grim.
I pushed past them, ignoring their protests. My eyes darted to the tarp laid on the ground near the riverbank.
The world tilted.
Even from a distance, I knew.
It was her.
Her lifeless form, covered by a thin white sheet, hair spilling out from beneath it.
My knees buckled. The ground rose up to meet me, and I fell, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. My chest burned, my throat locked.
“No…” The word cracked from my lips. “No, no, no…”
Someone tried to hold me back, but I shoved them away, crawling closer to the sheet. My hands trembled as I reached out, but I couldn’t bring myself to lift it.
