Chapter 111

Tobias was standing in the darkened upstairs corridor, a storm drumming against the windows in repetition, fists of rain punching. But inside—inside was worse.

He leaned over the railing, knuckles white, chest heaving.

She lied to me.

The thought came back to her in the same way, like a curse. He felt hollow, gutted.

Everything he knew of Ivonne—her love, her warmth, her unwavering loyalty turned to ash in his hands. The honey in her voice, the tenderness of her touch, the songs they whispered under the moonlight—was everything an act? A script?

She used me.

Used his position. His money. His name. His underground clout. She drew near, flattered him, made him feel like a king — and, when he was at his most vulnerable, twisted the knife.

He struck the wall with his fist, and a dent appeared in the plaster.

Ivonne’s voice came from downstairs, sounding panicked and pleading. “Tobias! Please, just listen!”

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He stormed back down the steps, his face set as hard as stone, eyes colder than ice. She flew into his arms, her eyes swollen with tears, her dress serving to stick to her damp body and clinging close to her from the muggy air, appearing less like the scheming woman he now knew her to be—more like a scared girl.

“Tobias,” she panted, “don’t do this.” I didn’t tell you because I was scared. Not because it was what I wanted to do to you.”

“You knew how important to me a family was,” he growled. “You knew and you let me build castles on a lie.

“It wasn’t a lie,” she cried. “I wanted that future, too; I just didn’t know how to say so, how to say the truth without losing everything.”

"You lost everything already," he snarled. "You lost me."

She flinched as if he'd hit her. Her lips trembled, her body shaking under the onslaught of emotions. "You think I did this for power? For money? Tobias, I never wanted these."

He was laughing about halfway. "You cared enough to lie. You cared enough to destroy hospital records. You cared enough to play every move like it was chess."

"That's not true!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "I loved you. I still love you. All I've done—all the risk, all the wars, all the deals—it was for us."

Tobias looked at her, long and hard, and for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his eyes.

And was gone.

"You must leave," he said.

Ivonne blinked. "What?"

"You are not welcome here."

"Tobias, please—"

"Leave my house."

The command was unyielding. It descended like a guillotine.

Ivonne's heart fell to her stomach. She extended a hand, and he stepped back.

"Tobias…"

"Now, Ivonne."

He turned from her before he had time to notice how her face fell. She stood frozen for a moment, not able to breathe.

Then, with trembling hands, she grabbed her coat and went out.

The gates slammed shut automatically behind her with a crash that shook in her bones. Ivonne's isolated form stood on the very edge of the estate, wrapping her coat around her as the wind wailed. The sky was black, puffy with storm clouds. Thunder boomed overhead like the fury of the gods.

Then the rain began.

A drizzle first, a downpour later.

Cold, bitter rain poured down on her as she stood there, frozen and stunned. Her carefully-coiffed hair stuck to her face. Her heels sunk into wet gravel. She couldn't see beyond the sheets of water, but she made no effort to seek shelter.

She wept.

Unashamed. Louder than grief. She wailed once into nothingness, a raw shout swallowed by the storm.

"I loved you…"

she whispered into the darkness.

But no one replied.

She dug her phone out of the coat pocket. Her fingers were numb and searched blindly. She scrolled shivering and landed on the one number she never thought she'd call again.

Lincoln.

Her ex-husband. The man she'd abandoned for ambition, for dreams of something greater. A man who'd loved her more than she ever truly deserved.

Her thumb stayed poised over the call button.

She pressed it.

Lincoln didn't hold back.

The instant he noticed her number come up on his screen, the second, he was reaching for his coat.

"Ivonne?"

Her telephone voice was a whisper. "I need you…"

Rain or no rain, two seconds flat, he was out the door.

Twenty minutes passed before lights cut through the storm. A black vehicle skidded to a stop before the curb in front of Tobias's estate. The door opened, and Lincoln burst out, shielding himself with a big coat.

He spotted her at once—sopping wet, shaking, makeup smeared, a shadow of the lively woman she once was.

"Ivonne," he cried, rushing to her side.

She fell into his arms silently. He put the coat over her shoulders and pushed her into the vehicle.

Slamming the door shut behind them and turning on the engine, he glared back at the gate behind them.

What in the world did happen?" he snarled, his tone low and furious.

Ivonne didn't reply immediately. She simply stood by the window, observing Tobias's mansion dwindle into the distance behind the storm.

Then at last, "He discovered."

Lincoln's grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"About the womb?"

She nodded.

He snorted sharply through his nose. "And the idiot just left you standing out there in the rain?

“ He yhinks I used him," she gasped. "Never loved him."

Lincoln's eyes flashed to hers, teeth gritted. "Did you?"

Ivonne turned to him, swollen and red-rimmed eyes staring through tears. "I didn't. God forgive me, I did."

He was not going to speak for a while. Then, softly, "I still love you, Ivonne."

She dropped her eyelids.

Lincoln's apartment was warm. Cleaned. Cozy. Still redolent with the cologne he had worn throughout their marriage.

He led her in, dried her off, dressed her up in one of his thinning shirts and a heavy blanket. He made tea, the same chamomile tea she always liked, and put it on the table in front of her.

Ivonne sat in silence, crossed legs under her, watching the steam on the cup.

"I have no idea what to do now," she said.

Lincoln sat across from her. "Start over."

"With what? What I had, all that was with Tobias."

"You had power beforehand," he told her. "You had connections. Influence. You are power, Ivonne. You just lost your mind when you loved someone."

She stared at him, eyes full of a muddled mix of pain and thankfulness. "You're still the only one who can see me, aren't you?"

"Always did."

They sat in silence for a very long time.

Then Lincoln moved forward. "I don't care what went down. If you want a do-over—at me, at life—I'll assist you. We can do better."

Ivonne gazed at her trembling hands on the cup. "You don't even recognize who I am anymore."

"I do," he said. "And I still prefer you."

Her eyes filled with tears again, but these were not tears of sorrow.

"Thanks."

He smiled softly. “Get some rest. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Later that night, Ivonne lay on Lincoln’s couch, wrapped in warmth but still wide awake. Her thoughts wouldn’t rest.

Tobias’s face haunted her mind.

The way he looked at her. Like she was a stranger. Like she was poison.

She clutched the blanket tighter.

He would never take her back.

But maybe she didn’t need to go back.

Maybe she needed to rise higher.

Ivonne closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of Lincoln’s apartment, the memories of a gentler time whispering through her like a lullaby.

And just before she drifted off, her phone buzzed.

A message.

Unknown Number:

I hear you’ve been thrown to the wolves. Want to bite back?

Her pulse spiked.

She stared at the message for a long time.

Then slowly, with a trembling hand, she typed a reply.

Ivonne: Tell me more.