Bella woke to sunlight bleeding through her curtains like golden silk—soft and warm, but it couldn't melt the cold knot coiled tight in her stomach. Her room, usually a place of quiet reflection, now felt too still. The silence wasn't peaceful; it was expectant, like the breath before a scream.
But the real noise was inside her.
A storm.
A heartbeat hammering against bone.
Today wasn't just another day.
It felt like the day.
The day her life would start moving again.
---
She got out of bed slowly, like her body knew it needed to be cautious. The floor was cold. The crack in the ceiling above her bed stared back, unchanged—her oldest companion. She'd once imagined it would split open and swallow her whole. She wasn't that girl anymore.
But she wasn't entirely healed either.
Today, she was meeting Raymond.
Raymond, who'd disappeared like mist.
Raymond, who had once whispered forever against her skin.
And then vanished.
No explanation. No goodbye. Just absence.
The betrayal had nearly broken her. There had been days she didn't eat. Weeks where she cried into the same sweatshirt that still faintly smelled of his cologne. She had scoured old text messages like forensic evidence.
But he had called. Last week. Voice trembling. Saying he'd made a mistake. That he needed to explain.
She'd said yes. Against her better judgment. Against Luisa's voice in her head screaming Don't you dare.
But Bella needed peace. Even if it came with pain.
---
5:00 PM – Preparation
Bella stood in front of her mirror, steadying her breathing as she slicked gloss over her trembling lips. She twisted her hair into a low bun, leaving soft curls to frame her face. Dreamy. Romantic.
She slipped into her favorite blush wrap dress—the one she'd worn on the day she graduated from university.
Simple. Soft. Hopeful.
"I'm not going for him," she whispered to the mirror.
"I'm going for me."
But she knew.
Deep down, she still wondered: What if he came back changed?
---
6:00 PM – The Ride
The taxi rattled down the city streets, golden hour casting fire across the windshield. Bella stared out the window, blinking fast as her heart pounded. Her phone sat silent in her lap.
No new message.
Every block passed with the weight of unspoken possibilities.
What if he missed her the way she missed him?
What if he realized she was the one?
She almost laughed at herself. Four years of silence. Of abandonment. And here she was—dressed like hope, painted in vulnerability.
Still, the heart is foolish. It always returns to its thief.
---
The Restaurant – 6:05 PM
The restaurant was upscale, minimalist but elegant. White tablecloths. Crystal glasses. A slow jazz piano melody floated through the air like perfume.
Bella arrived early.
The hostess gave her a curious look but led her to a window seat. A single candle flickered in the center of the table.
She sat. Crossed her legs. Checked her phone.
Nothing.
The seconds ticked by like a countdown.
6:06.
6:10.
She was just about to call when the door opened.
Raymond walked in.
Bella's breath hitched.
Same walk. Same smirk. Same coat she used to steal for comfort. He looked older. Sharper. But still him.
Then… she saw her.
A woman.
Tall. Striking. Dressed in emerald silk and stilettos. Her arm was laced through Raymond's like they were posing for a magazine shoot.
Bella's stomach turned.
No. No. No.
They walked toward her.
Raymond's smile was too wide.
"Hey, Bella," he said casually.
Like this was normal.
"I'm sorry I kept you waiting. This is Carol. My fiancée."
Fiancée.
The word hit like a punch.
Carol sat—at their table. Raymond pulled out her chair like a gentleman, then turned to Bella with all the grace of someone completely disconnected from her heart.
"I wanted you two to meet," he said. "I felt like I owed you that."
Bella blinked. Her hands felt numb.
Carol leaned in, smiling with glittering eyes. "I've heard so much about you."
Bella couldn't breathe.
"What is this?" she choked out. "You said you wanted to talk. To apologize. Why would you bring her?"
Raymond's jaw tightened. "Carol insisted. She didn't want me to meet you alone."
"You needed backup to apologize?"
Carol reached across the table, voice sugary. "I just wanted to support him. This must be hard for you."
Bella stared at the hand. Didn't touch it.
Didn't trust herself not to slap it away.
Raymond had the nerve to nod, like this was noble.
"You were important to me, Bella. But I've moved on. I wanted to make peace before the wedding."
Bella's chest heaved. Her throat tightened.
"You wanted peace?" Her voice cracked. "You wanted peace so you dragged me here like some old trophy? You don't want forgiveness—you want permission to forget me."
She stood. The chair screeched loudly behind her.
"Good luck with your wedding," she spat. "You two deserve each other."
She stormed out, knocking into a waiter's tray. Glass shattered. Gasps followed.
She didn't care.
---
Outside – Breathless
The air outside was colder now. Sharper.
Bella ran.
She didn't know where.
Tears blurred her vision. Her sandals slapped against the pavement. Her lungs burned.
She kept seeing Carol's smug face. Raymond's calm dismissal. Her own shattered reflection in the wine glass.
She stumbled to the curb, trying to catch her breath—when she stepped too far into the street—
HONKKKKK!
A blinding wall of headlights.
A scream.
SCREECH.
CRASH.
A sleek black car swerved, missing her by inches before slamming into a tree with an earsplitting crunch.
The air exploded with silence.
Bella dropped to her knees.
Smoke rose from the engine. A car alarm wailed into the night. People shouted in the distance.
Then the driver's side opened.
Out stepped a man—tall, commanding, dressed in a tailored black suit.
He looked like danger itself.
Davos DeLaney.
The same man whose mansion she had cleaned. The one who hadn't looked her in the eye. The billionaire with storm-grey eyes and a jaw that could cut glass.
But now he was here—blood on his cheek, fury in his gaze.
"You trying to die?" he barked. "Do you just throw yourself into traffic for fun?"
Bella's breath came in short, choking sobs. "I—I didn't see—"
He stared at her for a long second. His gaze narrowed.
Recognition flickered. And something else.
Concern?
He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it to her. "Wipe your face."
She didn't move.
Davos stepped closer. His voice dropped, low and sharp. "Get in the car."
"It's wrecked," she whispered, dazed.
"I meant the other one." He nodded behind him. Another black vehicle pulled up—the second in a convoy. His backup car.
He turned to his assistant, who had just rushed forward. "Clean this up. Get the insurance team. I'll handle her."
Handle her?
Bella opened her mouth to protest—but the night was spinning. She felt lightheaded. Cold.
He opened the door and waited. No command. Just expectation.
Something in his expression—hidden behind that icy exterior—told her he wasn't leaving without her.
Bella got in.