Chapter 2

After the video leaked, I became the most famously tragic woman.

The news looped the atrocities of the Rojas family and how the police, spearheaded by Isabella, heroically dismantled their stronghold.

Amidst a sea of camera flashes, Mateo stood in a tailored suit, his eyes glistening with tears as he vowed to the lenses: "I will never abandon my fiancée. I will spend the rest of my life making up for the trauma she endured."

He soaked in the world's adoration—the deeply devoted, resilient, unwaveringly loyal perfect man.

"Maya, don't watch this. It's not good for your recovery," Mateo murmured, walking into the bedroom with a bowl of hot soup and turning off the TV.

He gazed at my deathly pale face, his eyes swimming with unmistakable heartache. "You don't need to worry about the rumors out there. I'll handle everything. The wedding is happening just as planned next month. You are, and always will be, my beloved wife."

Staring at his flawlessly devoted face, my stomach churned with wave after wave of nausea.

If I hadn't understood Navajo that night, I probably would have fallen for this mask of utter devotion, spending the rest of my life on my knees in gratitude to him.

I turned my head away, refusing to look at him.

Mateo sighed.

A fleeting trace of impatience regarding my "PTSD" crossed his features, but he bit it back and forced a gentle tone. "Alright. Isabella is coming to see you this afternoon. Have a chat with her; maybe it will help you feel a bit better."

The second he left the room, I threw off the covers and got out of bed.

Over the past few days, I had played along with their little theatrical performance like a walking corpse. But I hadn't been idle.

I had noticed something glaringly abnormal: Isabella visited the estate far too frequently. And every single time, she would bypass the staff and head straight for the heavily fortified West Wing all by herself.

That was Mateo's restricted zone. He had once told me it housed the cartel's confidential ledgers, and even I wasn't allowed near it.

At 3:00 PM on the dot, Isabella's car pulled up to the estate.

I watched her expertly navigate the corridors, punch in a keypad code, and slip into the West Wing's basement.

Taking a deep breath, I dodged the patrolling guards and quietly trailed behind her.

Relying on my memory of her hand movements, I tried twice. The door popped open just a crack.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I crept down the dimly lit concrete stairs.

As I reached the end of the corridor, I heard a crisp, bright sound.

It was the laughter of a little boy.

I peered through the crack in the door.

The basement had been remodeled into a furnished children's playroom.

Isabella was kneeling on a carpet, hugging a little boy who looked about three years old. The boy had Mateo's exact deep-set eyes and dark, curly hair.

"Mommy, is Daddy coming to play with me today?"

"Of course he is, Leo. Daddy loves you the most," Isabella murmured, tenderly kissing the boy's cheek.

Just then, a concealed door on the other side of the room pushed open, and Mateo walked in. Looking utterly exhausted, he casually loosened his tie and shrugged off his suit jacket.

The boy immediately dropped his toys and toddled over, throwing his arms around Mateo's legs. "Daddy!"

The heavy gloom in Mateo's eyes lifted slightly. He bent down, scooped the boy up, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Hey, Leo. Were you a good boy today?"

The way he looked at the child revealed a raw, undeniable, and genuinely paternal devotion.

Isabella stood up and naturally took his jacket, but her sharp eyes immediately caught the internal struggle knitting his brow.

"Still stressing over the situation upstairs?" she asked quietly. "Dealing with the press shouldn't be this hard for you. Is Maya doing poorly?"

At the mention of my name, Mateo's face instantly darkened. He sank onto the sofa, letting Leo play on his lap as he buried his face in his hands, massaging his temples in agony.

"She didn't speak a single word to me today. Looking at her like that, so completely lifeless... Isabella, it is driving me insane." Mateo's voice was terribly hoarse, bleeding with undisguised torment and regret. "How the hell did I ever convince myself to agree to that goddamned plan?"

Isabella's movements paused for a fraction of a second. Her gaze cooled slightly, but she quickly masked it with a rational, calculated expression. Sitting down beside him, she placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"Mateo, look at me," Isabella ordered, keeping her voice low and soothing. "Do not let useless guilt ruin the path we've bled to pave. That drunken mistake three years ago gave us Leo. If we don't want this boy spending his entire life in the shadow of cartel blood feuds, this was exactly what we had to do."

"I know! You don't need to keep reminding me of my goddamn responsibilities!" Mateo suddenly growled, causing little Leo to flinch in his arms.

He immediately softened his tone, stroking his son's head to calm him, before squeezing his eyes shut in torment. "Since Leo is here, I will take responsibility for both of you. I cleared every obstacle in your way. But Maya... I love her."

Standing outside the door, I clamped my hand violently over my mouth.

So this was it.

This was his version of "I love her, but I had no choice."

How utterly pathetic and laughable!

He claimed to love me over and over again, yet his love meant dragging me down into the filthiest, most terrifying abyss.

He let those monsters ravage me and tear my soul to shreds, all just to use my flesh and blood to roll out a red carpet to the throne for his bastard son.

All just to buy a shiny badge of honor and a seat of power for his mistress.

And then, he had the audacity to slip on the mask of a devoted lover, standing atop my ruins to play the role of the unwavering savior, moving himself to tears with his own twisted performance.

His love was infinitely more nauseating than the blades those men had pressed against my throat.

The sheer, grotesque absurdity of it all drained every ounce of strength from my body. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I staggered half a step backward.

The voices inside the room ceased.

Like a hyper-alert panther, Mateo snapped his head around, his gaze piercing through the crack in the door like a sharpened blade.