Chapter 76: Mariana's Pov

"Look at that," Alejandro says, his voice low, the smirk on his lips sharp enough to cut. "How easy it is to lure you out here and break your heart into a million pieces."

The words land like a blow. He doesn't even try to soften them. And I know exactly what he means. When he came into my room, kneeling by my bed, whispering the words I had been desperate to hear for months, he knew. He knew I was awake, knew I'd hear every word and cling to the hope they offered.

It wasn't an accident. He said them to draw me here. To break me just as much as I've broken him.

Petty bastard.

But it's not the cruelty of his intention that stings the most-it's how he chose to do it. By humiliating me in front of someone else. Bringing her into a room that should have been our sanctuary, our safe haven.

My lips tremble as I force out the question. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Alejandro steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, his smirk twisting with mockery. "What are you doing here, Mariana?" His tone is cool, detached, like I'm nothing but an inconvenience.

"What am I. . ." The words catch in my throat, and I let out a bitter laugh, the sound raw and jagged. "Why is she in here? Of all places, why did you bring her in here?"

His head tilts slightly, as if he's studying me, trying to decide how much of my pain he can stand. "What is it to you, Mariana?" he asks, his voice quiet but cutting.

"It's everything to me!" I snap, the words spilling out in a rush. "This is my peace, my solace, a place I planned to bring my child and tell him stories. It's mine!"

At the mention of our child, his smirk vanishes. His gaze drops to my bump, and his jaw tightens, grinding with tension. "Mariana. . ." he whispers, his tone suddenly subdued.

But I'm not interested in his regret. My eyes shift to her-Rachel-standing awkwardly by the bed, trying to appear unaffected but failing miserably. She flinches under the weight of my glare.

"Get out," I say, my voice low and dangerous.

Rachel's head snaps up, her brows knitting together in disbelief. "What?" she says, incredulous.

"Put your damn clothes on and get out of here," I repeat, my tone firmer this time. "If you want to get fucked, find another room."

The words hang heavy in the air as I turn toward the door, my fingers curling around the knob. But before I can twist it open, her voice rings out behind me.

"With all due respect, Mrs. Vastlav, you don't have the right to send me out. It wasn't you who invited me in."

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. This fucking bitch.

Slowly, I let go of the knob and turn back, a smile spreading across my lips. It's not a kind smile. "Talk to your whore, Alejandro," I say, my voice venomous.

"I'm not a whore!" Rachel yells, her voice shrill and defiant.

So fucking annoying.

"That's enough, Rachel," Alejandro interjects, his voice sharp. "Get dressed. I believe it's best if you go home tonight."

Rachel's eyes widen, her defiance faltering. "You're asking me to leave? Because of her? Your brother's wife?"

My anger boils over. I step forward, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Beyond being his brother's wife, I am his direct authority. And he's a loyal soldier. If I give him an order, he obeys it. . . or he faces the consequences of disobedience."

I glance at Alejandro, my gaze hard and unyielding. "Did you fail to explain to you girl how things are done around here?"

Rachel is mumbling underneath her breath. Incoherent words. Probably insults jabbed at me, but she's smart enough to keep her dirty tongue to herself.

I watch with bright eyes as she scrambles to throw her clothes on, her skin burning with frustration and humiliation. Her movements are frantic, her fingers trembling as she snatches her bag off the bedside table and storms toward the door. But just as she reaches for the handle, she bumps into me.

"Fucking bitch. . . no wonder your husband had his eyes the whole time we were having dinner."

Those are the words she says to me. She says them in small whispers, hoping to keep them shielded from Alejandro.

My head droops and my lips thin into a humorless smile.

Fuck me.

Now, she's woken something she should've left asleep.

Before I can stop myself, my fingers curl around the baseball bat leaning by the door. I spin on my heels, intending to follow her. But before I can get my steps in, I feel a firm grip on my wrist, tugging me back.

I look over my shoulder and my wild eyes connect his pleading ones.

"Let it go, Mariana," Alejandro pleads desperately.

He knows me well enough to know what I intend to do to his little bitch.

A sharp breath heaves through and I turn, the back of my palm immediately crashing against his face. "You fucking piece of shit," I grit, my palm crashing against his face again. "I told you to be patient, didn't I? I told you to fucking wait, and you had to go and bring your whore in here?"

"Let it go. . ." he continues pleading.

I hit him over and over until I draw blood. "I'll come back to you later."

I snatch my hand from him and rush outside. My footsteps are hastened, closing the space in sprints. I run out to the driveway and heave out breaths, the baseball bat clicking maniacally on the ground as I wait for her.

Two headlights beep flashes in my direction and I know it's her. And then the hunk is going off erratically. I don't move. I stand firm in the middle of the driveway, daring her to run me over, the baseball bat continuously tapping the ground like a bell keeping my insanity awake.

The car is approaching at high speed. I don't move.

Fear is starting to settle in, but I don't let it win.

She's not stupid enough to run me over, is she?

The car screeches to a stop in front of me. Close. Too close. So close I almost pee myself.

A whooshed breath escapes me, my eyes opening and closing in rapid blinks. Fuck me.

Rachel is out of the car, chest pounding as she storms towards me, face contorted with rage. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Mariana?" she screams, her voice shrill, echoing in the empty driveway.

I don't respond at first. I tilt my head, a slow, maniacally smile creeping across my lips. Then I'm stalking towards her in slow, precise steps, the bat in my hand drags across the ground with a grating scrape, the sound crawling under her skin.

My steps are measured, deliberate, each one drawing me closer to her.

"I don't like to be insulted in my own home, Rachel," I whisper, my tone of voice reluctant, as though I don't even want to be there.

"W. . . what?" Rachel stutters.

"And I've been so easily upset these days," I continue, my tone soft, conversational. "This baby. . It's so restless, always kicking. It's like it's angry. And you know what, Rachel? It pisses me off. It's exhausting."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. "I don't. . ."

"You should've just left quietly," I say, my voice dropping to a whisper.

Before she can respond, I raise the bat high above my head and swing it down with every ounce of strength in my body.

The thud of the wood meeting her flesh reverberates through the air in echoes, a sickening crack following. Rachel screams, her voice piercing as her legs give out on her, crashing her to the ground, her hand clutching the side of her head.

I chuckle and swing again, a groan eliciting in my throat when my stomach contracts.

But my groan is swallowed by the grotesque, disgusting sound that follows my swing. This time, the bat collides with her temple, the force of the blow twisting her body awkwardly. Blood spurts from her head, splattering against my bare feet and the concrete.

Rachel's screams fade into choked sobs as she tries to crawl away, her nails scraping helplessly against the ground. Her bag spills open, its contents scattering like a pathetic attempt at escape.

"Alejandro is mine," I breathe, swinging again. She cries out in choked sobs now, pleading for me to stop.

I don't stop.

I raise the bat again, the weight of it familiar now, almost comforting. It comes down with another brutal crack, this time against the back of her skull.

The sound is deafening-a mixture of bone and skin shattering. It almost drives bile out of my throat. The screaming from her throat suddenly goes completely silent as she twists and struggles on the ground.

Her body twitches once, twice, then goes still.

"Fuck. . ." I murmur, stumbling back, "I got myself all messed up."

Bile rushes to my throat and I tighten it, keeping it away as I turn on my heels, hoping to head back inside. When I turn, a loud gasp escapes me as my eyes collide with Radimr's.

His brows are furrowed, eyes darting from the dead girl to my bloody form as if to ask: why did you do this?

I look behind me, eye the dead girl for a moment before my gaze drifts back to my husband.

"She called me a bitch," I whisper, "and. . . she said you were staring at her, eyeing her during dinner. It was humiliating."

With that, I sidestep him and stumble inside.

I hope my outburst hasn't ruined everything I've planned up until this moment.