"Ysabel?"
I jerked awake in the uncomfortable hospital chair. Lucas was looking at me, his blue eyes groggy but focused.
"Lucas!" I gasped, scrambling to his side. I wanted to grab his hand, but my bandages reminded me of my own fragility. Instead, I leaned down and pressed my forehead against his arm. "You're awake. Thank God."
He tried to sit up, wincing. "What happened? I remember... the video. The pills."
"It's gone," I said quickly, my voice fierce. "It's all gone, Lucas. It was a cyber-attack. A deepfake. The studio released a statement this morning. The police confirmed it. You're a victim, not a criminal. The public loves you again. They're already starting hashtags for you."
Lucas let out a long, shuddering breath. He closed his eyes, a tear tracking through the stubble on his cheek. "I thought it was over, Ysabel. I can't... I can't afford to lose this. The fame, the work... it's all I have."
"I know," I whispered, stroking his hair. "I promise you, Lucas. I swear on my life. It will never happen again. No one will ever touch you again, brother."
The next morning, I went home.
The house was quiet. Aiden was at the firm. I walked into the library and locked the door. I pulled out an old flip phone from the back of a safe—a relic from before smartphones, untraceable.
I dialed a number I hadn't used in years.
"Alfred," I said when the line clicked open.
"Miss Ysabel," the warm, gravelly voice of my family's old butler answered. He had served my parents, then me, until Aiden "suggested" we let him go for a younger staff. But Alfred had never really left my service. "It has been too long."
"I need you, Alfred," I said, cutting to the chase. "I need you to dig. I need everything on the Miller family. Antonio, Amber, their parents. Debts, secrets, illegal dealings. And I need everything on Aiden’s connection to them. Financial transfers, property deeds, emails. Everything."
"Consider it done, Miss Ysabel. Is everything alright?"
"No," I said, looking at the bruise fading on my cheek. "But it will be."
For the next week, I played the part.
I was the perfect, doting wife. I wore the dresses Aiden liked. I poured his scotch when he came home. I smiled when he touched me, even though my skin crawled with revulsion. I asked about his day. I pretended the slap never happened.
"See?" Aiden said one evening, kissing my neck as I arranged flowers in the vase—using my forearms more than my hands. "Isn't this better? No fighting. Just us."
"Yes, Aiden," I lied smoothly. "Much better."
"Good," he said. "Because I have a surprise. Dinner tonight. At Le Jardin. Just a small celebration."
"Celebration?"
"For us," he smiled. "For moving forward."
I wore the black silk dress he bought me. I put on the diamond earrings he gave me for our anniversary. I looked like a trophy.
When we arrived at the private room in the restaurant, my blood froze.
We weren't alone.
Sitting at the round table, swirling a glass of red wine, was Antonio.
His arm was in a sling, a prop for sympathy. He looked healthy. Arrogant. He grinned when he saw me, his eyes raking over my body in a way that made me want to shower.
"Ysabel," he drawled. "Long time no see."
I stiffened. I looked at Aiden. "You invited him?"
"We're burying the hatchet," Aiden said, guiding me to a chair. "Amber is joining us shortly. We're going to be a family again, Ysabel. Civilized."
I sat down. I had no choice. Dinner was a torture session. Antonio made crude jokes. Aiden laughed. They talked about "old times" while I stared at my plate, cutting my steak with clumsy, agonizing movements.
"Excuse me," I said halfway through the main course. "I need to use the restroom."
I escaped to the hallway, my heart pounding. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to stop the trembling. I dried my face and turned to leave.
Antonio was standing in the doorway. He had locked it.
"You think you're so special, don't you?" he slurred, stepping closer. He smelled of wine and expensive cologne. "Walking around like you didn't try to ruin my life by trying to send me to jail when I didn't mean to hurt you. You provoke me, and it was for my sister!"
"Get out of my way, Antonio," I said, my voice low.
"Or what?" He laughed. "You gonna scratch me with those paws?"
He lunged. He pinned me against the marble sink, his heavy body crushing mine. His good hand groped at my dress, tearing the silk.
"No!" I screamed. "Get off me!"
I couldn't use my hands. I couldn't push him. I used my knee, driving it up into his groin.
He grunted but didn't let go. He was too heavy. His wet mouth mashed against my neck. "You need to learn your place, bitch."
"Aiden!" I screamed. "Help!"
The door rattled. Then it burst open.
It wasn't Aiden. It was Amber.
"Antonio!" she shrieked.
She ran at us, grabbing his arm. "Stop it! What are you doing?!"
Antonio, in his drunken rage, shoved her back. Hard.
Amber flew backward. Her hip connected with the sharp edge of the marble counter with a sickening crack. She crumpled to the floor, screaming in pain.
Aiden appeared in the doorway a second later. He took in the scene—me, disheveled and panting against the sink; Antonio, dazed; Amber, writhing on the floor.
He didn't look at me. He ran straight to Amber.
"Amber!" He fell to his knees. "Are you okay?"
"She pushed me!" Amber sobbed, pointing a shaking finger at me. "Ysabel pushed me! She’s crazy!"
"What?" I gasped. "No! Antonio tried to rape me! She tried to stop him and he pushed her!"
Aiden looked up at me. His eyes were black holes of rage. He didn't believe me. He didn't even care to ask.
"You..." he hissed. "You are poison."
"Aiden, listen to me—"
"Get out of my sight!" he roared. He scooped Amber up in his arms, panic etched all over his face. "Call the car! We’re going to the hospital! Now!"
They left me there in the restaurant bathroom.
My hands were throbbing. In the struggle, I had banged them against the marble. Fresh blood was seeping through the bandages.
I took a taxi to the same hospital they had taken Amber to. I walked into the ER, keeping my head down. A nurse re-dressed my wounds, tutting at the damage. As soon as she was done, I slipped away toward the VIP wing.
I saw Aiden standing outside Room 304. He was talking to a doctor. I pressed myself into a small alcove near the vending machines, just out of sight.
"Is she okay?" Aiden asked. His voice was trembling. I had never heard him sound so scared.
"She had a minor concussion from the fall," the doctor said. "But the ultrasound looks good. The heartbeat is strong. The fetus is perfectly fine, Mr. Smith."
"Thank God," Aiden breathed, leaning his head against the wall. "And the gender? Can you still tell?"
"Yes," the doctor smiled. "It’s a boy."
"A boy," Aiden whispered, a sound of pure reverence. "My son. My heir."
The doctor walked away. Aiden pulled out his phone.
"It’s me," he said, his voice low but carrying clearly in the silent hallway. "The situation has become untenable. Ysabel is out of control. She almost killed my son tonight."
He paused, listening.
"No, I can't just divorce her. She knows too much. And with her brother’s influence... no. We need a permanent solution."
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"I’ll convince her to go on the trip, and then kill her. Make it look like an accident on the way to the airport. Brake failure. And do the same for Lucas. I don't want him asking questions when his sister dies. Clean slate."
