Chapter 10: He Was Just Talking to Me

Carlos’s gaze fixed on Lily, his expression unreadable. “Is that true?”

The maid stammered, her hands trembling as she tried to form a coherent response.

“She’s not at fault,” Cynthia interjected. “I asked her to get me aspirin first.”

Carlos’s gaze shifted to Cynthia, his expression hardening. “Then she can fetch the aspirin after making Megan’s coffee.”

Lily nodded quickly, her face pale as she scurried away.

Cynthia glared at Carlos, her frustration bubbling over. “Why are you always siding with her?”

Carlos turned to her, his voice calm yet cutting. “Because Megan doesn’t stress me out.”

The words hit Cynthia like a slap. “So that’s it?” she demanded, her voice breaking. “You reward her because she doesn’t challenge you?”

Carlos didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he placed an arm around Megan’s shoulders, guiding her away. “Let’s go, baby.”

Cynthia stood frozen, her fists clenched as she watched them walk away, her chest tight with unspoken words. Just before disappearing down the corridor, Carlos glanced back. “We’re flying out today. Be ready.”

His tone left no room for argument, and as they vanished from sight, Cynthia felt the weight of her reality pressing down on her once again.

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Hours Later...

The hum of the jet’s engines droned softly, almost hypnotically, as Cynthia’s gaze remained fixed outside the window. The view was surreal— soft clouds bathed in the amber glow of the evening sun stretched endlessly. Below, tiny glimpses of cities and oceans occasionally peeked through the gaps in the cloud cover, a quiet reminder of the bustling world far beneath their flight path. High above, a distant plane cruised in parallel, its contrail streaking the golden sky like a fleeting whisper.

“Excuse me, Lady Cynthia.”

The voice, gentle but firm, pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned her head slightly, her calm demeanor masking the storm brewing inside her. Standing a few steps away was one of Carlos’s men. He was tall and impeccably dressed, his tailored suit blending seamlessly with the luxurious ambiance of the private jet. His face was neutral, unreadable, but his eyes held something— an odd mix of confidence and warmth.

“Yes?” Cynthia’s voice was steady, though the lines of her forehead betrayed her inner fatigue.

“May I?” The man gestured toward the seat opposite her.

Her eyes narrowed, unsure of his intentions. “Why?”

“To keep you company,” he replied, his lips curving into a polite smile.

For a moment, Cynthia hesitated. The space between them filled with an invisible tension, but she eventually gave a subtle nod toward the seat. The man inclined his head in gratitude and sank into the plush leather chair, the sound of it creaking faintly against the engines' hum.

For several long minutes, silence hung between them. Cynthia glanced at him occasionally, her suspicion rising. Finally, unable to bear the quiet any longer, she broke it. “Of all the empty seats on this jet, why choose this one?” Her voice carried a sharp edge, though not outright hostile.

The man chuckled softly, as though amused by her guarded nature. “Flights can be long, Lady Cynthia. And even longer when one travels without company.” He leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. “You seemed a little… lonely.”

“Lonely?” she repeated, her tone hardening as she straightened in her seat. “I beg your pardon.”

Her gaze flitted toward the other end of the jet where Carlos and Megan sat, huddled together. Their laughter echoed through the luxurious cabin, a reminder of the ever-present betrayal that Cynthia could never escape.

“I meant no offense,” the man said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But it doesn’t take a genius to see what’s going on.” He gestured subtly toward Carlos and Megan. “After everything they’ve done to you, you don’t deserve to be going the all of this alone. It’s wrong.”

Cynthia’s brow furrowed as she studied him. There was no malice in his words, no mockery. Still, her instincts screamed at her to be wary. “I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she replied, her tone clipped.

“You didn’t have to,” he countered, a flicker of defiance in his voice.

Her suspicion deepened. This felt strange— too strange. Was this another one of Carlos’s twisted games? A test, perhaps, to see how far she’d go? For a moment, she considered dismissing the man entirely, but something about his genuine tone caused her to lower her guard.

Their conversation slowly began to flow, moving from light topics to more personal ones. Despite her initial hesitation, Cynthia found herself opening up slightly, laughing at some of his witty remarks and even engaging in a spirited debate about politics. For the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of something she thought she’d lost— normalcy.

Her soft laughter carried across the cabin, reaching Carlos’s ears like a sharp slap. He froze mid-sentence, his attention no longer on Megan. His gaze snapped to where Cynthia sat, her face alight with amusement as she conversed with his employee. Megan noticed his change in demeanor and followed his line of sight. “Carlos, what’s—?”

But he was already on his feet, his expression dark and thunderous. The air in the cabin seemed to shift as he strode purposefully toward them, his polished shoes striking the floor with an ominous rhythm.

“What the hell is this?” Carlos’s voice, low and dangerous, sliced through their conversation like a blade.

Cynthia’s laughter died instantly. She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “What’s what?” she asked calmly, though her heart began to race.

“Don’t make me ask again,” Carlos snapped, his eyes blazing with fury.

“It’s nothing,” Cynthia said, her voice steady despite the unease rising within her. “He was just trying to keep me company.”

Carlos’s gaze shifted to the man, who had risen to his feet, his posture tense but respectful. “Keep you company?” Carlos repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “You think that’s your job, big man? To entertain my wife?”

“Sir, I meant no disrespect,” the man stammered, his hands raised defensively. “I was just—”

Carlos didn’t let him finish. His fist shot out, connecting with the man’s jaw in a brutal punch that sent him sprawling onto the floor. A gasp escaped Cynthia’s lips as she instinctively stood, her hands clenched at her sides.

“You dare?” Carlos spat, standing over the man as he lay dazed on the ground. “That’s what you get for ‘keeping my wife company.’ Now, get up and get back to your position.”

The man scrambled to his feet, clutching his face where Carlos’s punch had landed. Without another word, he stumbled away, his retreating footsteps echoing in the tense silence.

Cynthia’s voice broke through the charged atmosphere. “Was that really necessary?” she demanded, her tone sharp.

Carlos turned to her, his face still twisted with anger. “You sure know how to push my buttons,” he said, his voice low but dangerous. He took a step closer, towering over her as his gaze bore into hers.

“I didn’t do anything,” she shot back, her voice trembling slightly. “He was just talking to me—”