Chapter 14 014
Rhea's POV
I lay sprawled on the massive bed, the silk sheets cool and unforgiving against my skin.
I stared at the ring glinting mockingly on my finger under the dim glow of the bedside lamp.
It was beautiful, I'll give it that; a sleek gold band studded with diamond gems that caught the light.
Suddenly, every lingering ounce of feeling I'd harbored for Alejandro evaporated, leaving a hollow ache.
What was left wasn't love or even nostalgia; it was pure loathing, thick and bitter, making it hard to swallow past the lump in my throat.
At least, in the midst of his cruelty, he hadn't forced me into his bed. That was the one mercy I clung to.
If he had demanded my body as part of this transaction, I would have known he was a full-blown monster, someone even the devil himself would be jotting down notes, envious of such depravity.
But he hadn't. He'd simply dropped me in this room like a piece of expensive luggage he'd finally recovered from the lost-and-found.
I stared at the gold band, frowning.
Why gold? Alejandro had never cared for it; he always preferred the cold, raw fire of diamonds, sapphires, platinum, crystals, and other precious gems.
He'd been obsessed with gems since he was a kid, hunting for that specific thrill he got from something rare and unbreakable.
Gold was too "traditional," too warm for his tastes. Choosing it felt like a message.
His choice stung more than I wanted to admit; a subtle, heavy reminder that things had changed, and he wasn't looking for "rare" or "precious" with me anymore.
He was looking for something that wouldn't break while he crushed it.
I didn't have the energy to sulk. I just sighed, my hand falling limp against my side as the last of my adrenaline drained away.
I wrenched the gold ring off my finger and set it on the nightstand. It hit the wood with a dull, hollow sound that seemed to make the room feel even emptier.
Without looking back at it, I rolled over to face the wall; a cold, blank stretch of white that matched exactly how I felt inside.
235 days. I kept repeating the number in my head.
What was the catch with the marriage contract? A random number, or something calculated?
Some twisted timeline to an evil plot? I needed to figure it out, peel back the layers before it bit me harder.
Men like Alejandro Alvarez didn't do anything without a "catch" hidden in the fine print.
As for Owen... God, I hoped Alejandro would keep to his promise. I hoped he would dismantle that man piece by piece, drag him through the courts, strip away his lies, and leave him with nothing—exactly what he'd tried to do to me.
If Alejandro hadn't walked into that precinct with his lawyers and his terrifying influence, I'd still be staring at those gray walls, or worse, left to whatever "justice" Owen had planned for me.
Life could be such a relentless bitch, kicking you when you're down, but sometimes she let her friend destiny step in and flip the script.
Tonight, that intervention wore Alejandro's face, for better or worse.
I tried to sleep, but my brain refused to shut down. I was a tangled mess of worry and fear, haunted by questions that didn't have immediate answers.
What did life look like after this? What happens tomorrow? Next week? Next month?
I was a ghost in a gilded cage, waiting for a future I couldn't see.
Unable to take the screaming silence of my own thoughts, I threw back the covers.
My feet hit the cold floor, and I decided to wander.
Cold seeped through my thin nightgown, raising goosebumps along my arms, but the chill was a relief compared to the whirlwind in my head.
I'd rather shiver out here than drown in my own thoughts back in that bed.
The hallway was a tomb of shadows. Heavy velvet curtains draped the floor-to-ceiling windows, blocking out the moonlight.
Everywhere was dark, just like him. I didn't know the layout of this massive house, but I maneuvered through the gloom until I found myself in a secluded wing.
At the far end, a set of French doors stood slightly ajar, leading to a stone balcony.
I pushed through and rested my elbows on the silver railing. I looked up, but the sky was a void—no stars, no moon, just a vast, empty blackness.
The night breeze was soft, caressing my heated skin. And then, I smelled it. The thick, breathtaking aroma of roses and lilies drifting up from the garden below.
I froze, my breath hitching in my throat.
Alejandro was allergic to flowers. Severely. Even a stray petal could set him off; he'd spend hours with bloodshot, watery eyes, trapped in a fit of sneezing while his skin broke out in a frantic itch.
He hated them. So why would he have a garden overflowing with them? And not just any flowers—my favorites.
My mind drifted back to our university days. I could still see him standing at my door, wearing three different face masks and squinting through eyes that were swollen and bloodshot.
He looked ridiculous, but he'd do it every Valentine's Day and every birthday—hand-delivering massive bouquets just to see me smile.
I'd told him a thousand times to just get me plastic ones, that the gesture mattered more than the pollen. But he was stubborn, disobedient in the best way, always going the extra mile to make me feel cherished.
He'd told me he wanted me to have the "real thing" because I was the only real thing in his world.
He'd endure hours of misery just to remind me how beautiful I was, or simply because it was a Tuesday, and he wanted me to know I was loved.
He'd suffered for those flowers. He'd suffered for me.
A small, involuntary smile tugged at my lips, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
How could the man who loved me like that be a liar? A pretender? A cheat? How do you fake that kind of devotion for five years?
No one who'd seen us together would suspect: the way he treated me like I was his world, the center of everything.
But I should have seen the signs. I should have noticed the way she clung to him whenever she visited.
The way she demanded his attention, and the way he'd play the part of the "annoyed brother" while they shared a life behind my back.
I tried to keep the tears back, but they were a dam that had finally broken.
My parents had warned me about men like him. They told me he was too polished, too perfect, too good to be true.
But I'd chosen him anyway. I'd chosen love with a blind, defiant heart, convinced that I knew him better than the rest of the world did.
Nevertheless, this was the same man who had reached into the dark and pulled me back from the brink.
Even if the price was a fake marriage and a contract that felt like it was written in my own blood, he had dragged me from the jaws of Owen's trap.
Without him, Owen's invisible grip would have tightened until I couldn't breathe. I'd be rotting behind bars right now, or worse, forced into whatever sick "replacement" Owen had planned for Brenda.
He would have turned me into an object, a trophy to be used until I was broken and then tossed aside.
If Alejandro hadn't stepped in, I'd be facing horrors I didn't even want to put a name to.
I took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, refusing to let the tears stay.
Whatever this charade was, it would pass.
I had to be strong because the list of people gunning for my downfall was getting longer by the hour: Owen, the faceless hordes online, even my own family.
No more crumbling. I was done being the victim in everyone else's story, even mine.
Turning back inside, I retraced my steps through the dim halls, the mansion's silence broken only by the faint creak of floorboards underfoot.
I slowed as I approached his room. The door was left slightly ajar, spilling a sliver of heavy shadow into the corridor.
A dangerous curiosity tugged at me. I wanted to slip inside, just for a second, to see if he still looked the same when he slept.
Back then, it had been my favorite version of him: his face softened, his lashes fanning against his cheeks, all that cold intensity finally melting into peace.
I needed to see a glimpse of the man I'd loved, just to prove he wasn't entirely replaced by this cold stranger.
But as I hovered at the threshold, the silence broke.
Hushed voices drifted through the gap. It was low and intimate, the kind of tone meant only for private ears.
My heart stuttered against my ribs. Was he on the phone? Or was someone in there with him?
Was it her? The woman who had helped him burn my world to the ground?
"I know," he was saying, his voice a gravelly, intimate whisper. "I know it's been a long time. It won't be much longer... I love you. You know that, right? More than you believe I do."
The words knocked the air right out of me, turning my worst fears into a cold reality. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, trying to stifle the sob that wanted to erupt.
Even now. Even with me under his roof, wearing his ring, he was talking to her. Or someone like her.
Why did he even bother with this marriage? Why drag me into this theater if his heart was already occupied?
It was fake, yes, but the law recognized it. He owed me some shred of respect, didn't he? Or was this just another way to torture me? To show me that while he owned my life, his heart belonged to a world I wasn't allowed to enter?
The part of me that still loved him, the pathetic, stubborn girl who wished she could rewrite the past, ached badly; I thought I might collapse.
I didn't stay to hear the rest. I fled. I ran down the hallway, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I dove into my bed and pulled the pillow over my head, screaming into the fabric until my lungs felt empty.
I cried until the sheets were damp, mourning the man I thought he was and the life I would never have.
I was married to a stranger, protected by a monster, and I was more alone than I had ever been in that prison cell.