"Like hell I do! When was anybody here going to tell me? On the day of the wedding?!" I screamed, my voice echoing through the tense room. My fists clenched at my sides, trembling with rage and heartbreak. The walls felt as if they were closing in around me, suffocating in the weight of their lies. I could feel the tears threatening to spill over again, but I fought to hold them back, desperate to make sense of the chaos.
Disheartened and confused, Heather hesitated for a moment before opening her mouth to speak, but I was quicker.
"And you all knew and thought it was okay? Hunter and I have been together for half of our lives, and you sat still—silent—as Navi's actions threatened to tear everything apart?"
Heather's eyes met Johnson's, silently begging her son to say something in her defense.
He took a step closer to his sister, concern etched on his face. "Listen, Nova. Navi didn't mean to ruin anything. You have to understand—sometimes love finds us in the strangest ways."
A bitter chuckle escaped my lips.
As I watched them all give their half-hearted explanations, trying to justify their betrayal, I felt an overwhelming urge to slap every one of their faces.
Love.
What did any of them know about that feeling?
"Love? You're standing there, talking to me about love? It's supposed to be OUR wedding, Mom! Mine and Hunter's—not Navira's and Hunter's!" I yelled, my voice echoing with anger and pain.
Heather and Alfred now stood at the foot of the stairs, cautious, knowing better than to get any closer to Novaria.
Alfred spoke softly, his eyes gentle but filled with concern as he looked at his daughter. "We can fix this, sweetheart. You and Navi look alike—there wouldn't be much difference, aside from the fact that people wouldn't even notice if we switched your names..."
"Your father's right," Heather chimed in, her voice gentle but firm. "Sweetie, you know how much we matter in the church. Think about what people will say if they find out Navi is pregnant before marriage. And what about your sister? Do you really want her baby to grow up without a father?" She was pleading silently, her eyes searching for understanding, hoping I'd see reason.
But I was far from feeling reasonable. What I was experiencing now was nothing close to logic or calm.
"Please, sweetie... just be reasonable," Alfred added once more, his tone soft but insistent.
I scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter in the tense silence. That was the last straw. Rage flooded through me, hot and uncontrollable, and my fury roared to life. The others around me looked pathetic, standing there with their helpless expressions, as if they didn't know what to say or do.
Reason. Did they honestly have the nerve to ask me to be reasonable?
Navira—my sister—had been messing around with a man everyone knew I was about to marry. She got pregnant for him, and they all knew. And now… now I was the bad guy for getting angry? As if that was unreasonable. As if I should just swallow it and be considered the one in the wrong.
WHAT ABOUT ME?
Nobody had thought about that. Nobody had considered how I felt, how betrayed I was. I was just supposed to understand, to forgive, to feel some twisted compassion for Navira's child. To hell with her child. To hell with Navira. And to hell with every single one of them.
My fists clenched, and the rage boiled over. I didn't care about their excuses anymore. All I saw was betrayal, and all I felt was the overwhelming desire to tear everything apart.
If I'd ever read a novel like this, I'd have laughed it off as pure fantasy. Maybe that's why all I could do now was laugh—though it was more of a bitter, painful sort of laugh. As soon as the door swung open, everyone's gaze shifted from me to whoever was coming in.
My eyes zeroed in on Navira's figure. A wild urge to yank her perfectly straight blonde hair out by the roots churned in my stomach. If she took one step closer, I might just do it.
"The nerve of you all," I spat, glaring at them as they closed in around me, like I was the one to blame. Tears started streaming down my face—an uncontrollable, helpless ache. I felt cold inside, hollow.
This morning, I hadn't woken up expecting to be stabbed in the back by my own family. I'd never imagined this from any of them.
"I'm so sorry," Navira began, voice trembling. "I never meant for any of this to happen. Hunter and I—"
"Stop," I cut her off, my voice harsh. I cast a bitter look around the living room and managed a small, hollow smile. "You know what? From today on, I don't want to be part of this family. Scratch that—I'm cutting myself off from this family. I'm not even a part of it anymore."
My words hit Heather, and I saw her eyes soften slightly. But honestly? I stopped caring the moment I found out they all knew about Navira and Hunter's relationship—and kept it from me.
As I slowly walked towards the door, I paused beside Navira, my gaze locking onto hers. "I've always let you have your way," I said, my voice tight. "You've shown me, with relentless speed and effort, just how much better you are. I never said a word. But this… this is all yours now. I don't want to be a part of your world anymore." With that, I turned and walked out, not looking back.
I grabbed the first taxi I saw and told the driver to take me to Ember Corp. I didn't care that there was a mother and a stubborn crying baby inside. Honestly, I found it kind of comforting—the baby's wails helped drown out my own. It was a small relief, somehow, to be surrounded by noise I didn't have to pretend to ignore.
If it weren't such an important day for me, I probably would have just bailed on work altogether. But I couldn't. Not today. And besides, maybe a little good news was just what I needed after being slapped in the face by a string of bad ones.
I bit down on my lower lip, trying to hold onto whatever little sanity I had left. My mind was a jumble of conflicting thoughts—trying to stay focused, trying not to lose it.
Finally, when the taxi pulled up in front of the fifty-story building, I threw open the door and hurried inside, pushing past the sleek glass doors without a word. I ignored the greetings from the security guard, the receptionist's usual cheerful smile—I didn't have the energy for small talk today. This wasn't like any other morning.
I made a beeline for the bathroom on the ground floor, needing a moment to myself. Standing in front of the mirror, I took a deep breath and looked at my reflection. I was already forty-five minutes late for work, but I couldn't bring myself to walk into the conference room with smudged eyeliner and mascara streaming down my cheeks, mingled with tears I couldn't hold back. I just needed a moment to gather myself before facing whatever was waiting for me inside.
I grabbed a wad of tissue and wiped away the tears, trying to scrub my face clean. Yes, it wouldn't hurt to look bare and numb—that's the closest way I could describe how I felt right now: hollow, disconnected, numb.
When I was done, I hurried out of the bathroom stall, straight into the office lobby. Without hesitation, I flung myself into the first open elevator I saw. My knees trembled, my head spun, and that aching hole in my chest seemed to deepen with each passing second. But I knew I had to push through it. I whispered to myself, "Think of your promotion," inhaling and exhaling slowly, trying to steady the storm inside.
In just three minutes, I stepped onto the 25th floor, where the conference hall awaited. I rushed out of the elevator, clutching my bag as tightly as I clung to the pain in my heart. Navigating through the maze of office corridors, I finally found the door to the conference room.
The door was slightly ajar. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. 'I can do this,' I told myself. 'Just thirty minutes. I can pull myself together for thirty minutes.' With that resolve, I slowly pushed the door open and slipped inside, careful not to make a sound.
All eyes turned toward me the moment I stepped into the room. The gaze of the CEO, Leonardo, was the hardest to ignore. His sharp eyes fixed on me, a frown creasing his brow.
I forced a faint smile and made my way to a seat near the door, trying to appear as composed as possible. The elderly man at the head of the table didn't bother hiding his disapproval. Instead, he looked directly at me and said, "Nice of you to join us almost an hour late, Miss Santiago."