Chapter 8 - The Shadow of the Past|
Midnight settled over the sprawling estate like a heavy velvet blanket.
Dr. Bennett had ordered complete bed rest, citing severe maternal exhaustion, mild anemia, and dehydration.
The house staff had brought up a silver tray loaded with roasted chicken, fresh vegetables, broth, and fruit.
Nelia had eaten every single bite, unable to deny her body the nourishment it had craved for months.
Now, the room was dimly lit only by the gentle flames dancing in the stone fireplace.
Diego sat in a leather armchair beside the bed, holding a glass of amber scotch that he hadn't touched in hours.
His jacket was discarded, his top two shirt buttons undone, and his dark hair was slightly mussed.
Nelia watched him from the pillows, her mind racing with seven months of unanswered pain.
“Why did you sign the divorce papers so easily, Diego?” she finally asked into the quiet darkness.
Diego raised his head, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering firelight.
“You think I signed them easily?” he asked, a bitter smile touching his lips.
“You sent your lawyer to my office with a signed petition,” Nelia reminded him, her voice cracking.
“You told me through him that our marriage was an inconvenience to your expansion.”
Diego set his untouched glass down on the side table with a sharp, heavy thud.
“That was a lie, Nelia.”
She sat up slightly, propping her back against the headboard.
“Why lie about something that destroyed my life?”
Diego stood up and walked to the edge of the bed, his presence commanding yet strangely wounded.
“Because three days before you left, the Lucente syndicate put a sniper bullet through the window of my car,” he confessed quietly.
Nelia’s heart skipped a beat as the color drained from her cheeks.
“The bullet missed my skull by two inches,” Diego continued, his jaw tightening into iron.
“That night, I found a dossier on my desk with photos of you buying groceries, photos of you walking through the park, photos of you sleeping in our bed.”
He stepped closer, leaning over the wooden footboard.
“They weren't coming for me, Nelia; they were coming to butcher you to break me.”
Nelia stared at him in disbelief, her hands gripping the soft duvet.
“So you broke my heart instead?”
“I had to make you hate me enough to run away,” he admitted, his voice dropping into an agonizing whisper.
“I had to make the entire underworld believe that Diego Ramos didn't care if you lived or died.”
“If they knew you were my greatest weakness, they would have used you to bleed me dry.”
“You should have told me!” she cried out, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.
“We could have faced it together!”
“You were innocent, Nelia!” Diego yelled softly, the agony pouring from his chest.
“You didn't belong in that blood-soaked hell!”
He walked around the bed and sat on the mattress, taking her cold hands into his large, calloused palms.
“I sent my best covert guards to watch your apartment from a distance,” he revealed.
“Then, two weeks after the divorce was finalized, my safehouse was raided, and my intelligence network went dark.”
“When I finally regained control of the city, you were gone.”
Nelia looked down at their joined hands, her heart tearing in two directions.
“I discovered I was pregnant three weeks after I left,” she whispered.
Diego leaned forward until his forehead rested gently against hers.
May you like
“I know,” he whispered back against her tears.
“And I will spend the rest of my life begging for your forgiveness.”
