4

~Velma's POV

I stood there, staring at the house I'd called home for ten years, my chest tight and my legs trembling like they weren't even mine anymore. The gate slammed shut behind me, and it felt louder than any scream I could have made, like the final lock on everything I had believed in, everything I had trusted.

I pressed a trembling hand to my stomach, feeling the life inside me, our child, and my tears fell hotter and heavier than the night air could swallow. "I'm carrying his child too, mother," I whispered, my voice breaking.

I thought about our vows, the promises he made, the hands he held mine in, the love I believed in. "What happened to usDylan?" I murmured into the morning, bitter laughter shaking my lips. "And my sister... You chose her of all people in the world."

I started walking because standing still hurt too much. Every step felt heavy, every breath ragged, but I couldn't stop. "He wanted children... I know that. But I hurt too. I hurt more. "

By the time I realized how far I'd walked, my legs were sore, my feet blistered, and my arms ached from wrapping around myself to keep warm. I pulled out my phone with shaking hands, booked a ride, and within five minutes, he pulled up in front of me.

"Take me to Rosewood Estate."

"Yes, ma," he replied and hurried to start the engine.

The car pulled away, and streetlights slid past the windows like streaks of gold. My stomach throbbed with each heartbeat, and my throat felt tight.

I stared out the window and whispered to myself,

"Why... why is this happening to me?"

By the time we reached Rosewood Estate, my palms were sweaty, and my chest felt heavy. The security guards opened the gate without question, and the driver stopped right in front of the tall white house with the flower-shaped balcony.

I got out, trying to steady myself.

I did not even knock.

I pushed the door open and walked in.

My parents, my adoptive parents, sat in the living room, my father reading the newspaper, my mother scrolling through her phone. They both looked up, startled.

Mother frowned.

"Velma? What are you doing here at this hour?"

Father adjusted his glasses.

"It's early in the morning. Why are you not home with your husband?"

I swallowed, my voice shaking.

"Good morning, Mum. Good morning, Dad."

They nodded stiffly but did not stand, did not hug me, did not look happy to see me.

My mother sighed.

"Speak. What is it?"

I took a breath that hurt.

"Eva... she is secretly seeing Dylan and is even pregnant with his child. And...and.... she did something wrong, and Dylan wants me to take the fall for it. He wants me to go to prison so her life won't be ruined."

Silence.

I waited for shock.

I waited for outrage.

I waited for someone to say, "Oh my God, Velma, are you okay?"

Instead, father folded his newspaper and said calmly,

"Dylan is wealthy. He can do anything he wants. And besides, I didn't blame him since you refused to give him a child."

I blinked.

"What?"

Mother leaned back, unfazed.

"And you'd better go back and take the blame for our daughter. After everything we have done for you. Is this how you repay us?"

My mouth fell open.

"After everything you did for me? You never even treated me like your child."

Mother scoffed.

"You always envied Eva. You always wanted what she had."

"No!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "Eva always wanted EVERYTHING I ever had! Since we were kids, I always backed down. I always let her win. But now she wants my husband, and you're supporting it?"

Father shrugged.

"Why not? Our family is among the richest and largest investors in Dylan's company. It is not a bad match."

"What about me?"

"You leave the picture and find yourself another man," Mother said, nonchalantly.

The room spun.

My knees weakened.

My heart dropped.

I stared at them, speechless, breathless, shattered.

They never loved me.

They never even wanted me.

And now they threw me away.

Without another word, I walked out and slammed the door behind me.

I kept walking, even though the morning sun was already too bright for my swollen eyes. Everything felt loud... the birds, the passing cars, even my own breathing. I didn't know where I was going. My legs were shaking, but I kept moving, dragging my suitcases with me.

I whispered under my breath, almost like a prayer, "Where do I even go now..." but no answer came.

Then a deep engine sound hummed behind me. Slow. Too controlled to be random.

I turned slightly, wiping my face with the back of my hand, and a sleek black SUV pulled up beside me.

The tinted window slid down, and my stomach dropped. It was my adoptive grandfather's bodyguard.

He stepped out immediately, his expression tightening the moment he saw my face.

"Madam Velma," he said quietly, almost like he was afraid I'd break if he spoke too loud, "your grandfather sent me. Please... come with me."

He took me to a cafe close by.

"Your grandfather sent me."

I stared at him, confused and shaking. "H-How? How did he know? How did he find me?"

"He always kept someone watching over you from a distance," the bodyguard said. "Since the day you married Mr Dylan."

My mouth fell open. "What? Why?"

He nodded. "He wanted to make sure that you are safe."

He reached into a leather folder and placed items on the table: documents, a passport, a brand-new phone, an envelope, and a boarding pass.

My voice trembled. "What... what is all this?"

"Your grandfather arranged everything," he said. "A new identity for travel, money, and a flight to the next city. He wanted you far from danger."

Tears filled my eyes. "Far from danger? What does that even mean?"

"He said that he will tell you everything when the time is right," the bodyguard replied quietly. "And he is sorry it took this long to step in."

He drove me straight to the airport. My hands shook the entire ride.

When we reached the departure gate, he handed me another envelope.

"This is from him. Read it on the plane," he said.

I looked at him with watery eyes. "Thank you."

He bowed his head gently. "Stay safe."

I boarded the plane with a heart that felt torn open. As soon as I sat, I pulled out the letter and unfolded it.

My grandfather's handwriting stared back at me, shaky, old, familiar.

I am sorry, he wrote.

I failed to protect you. I should have taken you away when I saw the signs. I will make sure that I make it up to you. I give you my word.

Heal. Rest. Then I will tell you everything later.

I covered my mouth with my hand as tears poured down my face. I cried silently, cried until my chest hurt, cried until the flight attendant asked if I needed water. I cried because I had no idea what to do or what tomorrow looked like.

When the plane landed, I stepped out with weak legs and blurry eyes. The airport lights were too bright, and the noise felt too loud. My stomach growled painfully, and my head spun. I tried to keep walking, but dizziness washed over me.

"Not now... please..." I whispered.

My vision darkened.

My knees buckled.

I fell forward, right into someone.

Strong arms caught me, but my mind was slipping away. I only registered the scent of clean cologne, a chest against my cheek, and a deep voice calling for help.

Everything went black.

5

~Velma's POV

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed. A metal cuff circled my wrist, chaining me to the rail. Panic rushed through me.

"Why... why am I handcuffed? What did I do?" I whispered.

A doctor walked toward me with a clipboard. "Please calm down, ma'am. You were extremely exhausted and dehydrated. You collapsed."

He turned and spoke to someone behind him.

And then I saw him.

A tall man stood there, broad-shouldered, sharp jaw, dark eyes that looked like they could cut through steel. His presence filled the room like authority itself. Even through the haze of fear and dizziness, I couldn't ignore how striking he was. His hair was dark, perfectly styled, and a few rebellious strands fell over his forehead, giving him an untamed edge. His skin was flawless, with that kind of warm golden tone that caught the light just right.

The lines of his face were sharp but balanced, a dangerous kind of beauty that made my heart skip a beat despite everything. His lips were full, firm, and just slightly curved, as if he was always holding back a smirk that could either charm or terrify. Even in the serious, cold way he moved, there was a magnetic elegance, a presence that made the air around him feel heavy, almost alive.

I tried to look away, tried to focus on anything else, but I couldn't. There was something in the way he held himself, calm, confident, untouchable, that made me realize he wasn't just beautiful, he was dangerous beauty. And somehow, that made me both terrified and... unreasonably drawn to him.

The doctor said, "Mr. Theron, she is awake now."

He finally looked at me, his voice deep and calm, but annoyed.

"You bumped into me at the airport and passed out," he said. "I had to bring you here."

My cheeks burned in embarrassment. "I'm sorry... I did not mean to..."

He crossed his arms. "Well, because of that, I missed my flight. So you will take responsibility."

My mouth fell open.

"What... what does that even mean?"

He stepped closer, eyes fixed on mine.

"It means," he said slowly, "you owe me."

And my heart stopped, because I had nothing left to give.

I pressed my face against the pillow of the hospital bed, trying to make sense of anything. My chest heaved from exhaustion, and my hands clutched the thin blanket around me. I swallowed shakily, whispering, "I... I have no way to repay anyone. I. I don't...."

Theron's eyes snapped to mine. Dark, sharp, piercing. They cut through every word I said. He leaned against the edge of the bed like he owned the room, his expression calm but wicked, the kind that made my stomach twist.

"Look!" he said, voice low and dangerous. "You passed out, yes. But from what I see... You don't look that useless at all."

I froze. My stomach knotted. "...What do you mean?" I whispered, voice trembling as I hugged myself closer to my chest.

He straightened slightly, stepping closer, and let his gaze roam over me slowly, deliberately, like he was inspecting me. "From head to toe... you're not bad. Actually... you'll make a good fit."

I jerked upright, pressing my hands tighter against myself. "...A good fit? What do you mean by that?" I asked, voice sharp now, panic mixing with confusion.

He didn't answer. He simply turned his head slightly and barked an order at the security standing near the door. The man's eyes flicked to me, and he started moving toward the bed.

I pressed my hands to my chest, trembling as the guard stepped closer. "No! Wait! I..." My voice cracked, panic rising like a storm inside me. "...I passed out! I didn't do anything! You can't..."

My wrists were still sore from the cuffs, and I flinched, unsure of what he wanted. But then, with a swift motion, he uncuffed me. Relief washed over me so suddenly that I nearly sagged against the hospital bed. I let out a shaky sigh, my fingers rubbing the marks on my wrists.

I slowly stood, trying to steady myself, and my eyes found him, Theron. My chest tightened. I had so many thoughts racing, but the first thing that slipped out was an apology. "I... I'm sorry for making you miss your flight," I said softly, my voice almost breaking. "And... how much is the medical bill? I'll repay you."

He turned to me, a wicked, almost mischievous smile curling his lips. He laughed, a low, dangerous sound that made my stomach flutter nervously. "I already cleared it," he said simply, his eyes glinting. "You're useful to me."

I blinked, confusion and unease battling inside me. Useful? What did he mean by that? Before I could ask, a sleek black limousine pulled up outside the hospital, its engine purring like a predator ready to pounce. The driver emerged, bowing politely to Theron before opening the rear door.

Theron glanced at me. "Get in."

My eyes widened in shock. "I... I can't. I..." I tried to back away, panic rising.

He moved faster than I expected, his hand firm on my elbow. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "Come on."

Before I could protest further, he guided me into the car. My hands clutched the seat, knuckles white, and I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I finally forced myself to whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engine, "Where... where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough," he replied, eyes forward, unreadable.

The ride felt endless, my mind spinning with questions. I stared out the window, heart hammering, until finally, the car stopped. I looked around, and my jaw dropped. We were in front of a massive building, sleek and modern. A sign glinted in gold letters: a fashion house, far larger and more luxurious than anything I had ever seen, and that was because I barely go out back home.

Theron stepped out first, then turned to me. "You too," he said, offering a hand to guide me. I hesitated, my instincts screaming to run, but he didn't let go. His grip was firm but not cruel, and against my better judgment, I allowed him to lead me inside.

The interior was breathtaking. Everywhere I looked, there were units filled with clothes, jewelry, makeup, and accessories. The space was huge, with high ceilings, polished floors reflecting soft golden lights. I felt like I had stepped into another world.

Two attendants appeared, bowing respectfully to him. Theron waved them toward me. "Dress her. Make her gorgeous," he ordered casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I froze, my mouth falling open. "What... what do you mean?" I stammered.

"Just let them perform their wonders on you," he said.

6

~Dylan's POV

I couldn't focus. Not one bit. My hands hovered over the papers on my desk, but my mind wasn't in the meeting, wasn't on the contracts, wasn't anywhere except back at home, wondering if Velma had eaten, if she had slept at all, if she was still crying. I hated myself for letting things get this far, but at the same time, I knew I had no choice. I couldn't let the mother of my child get dragged to the station over something, and the collaborations with Eva's company must go through without any hiccups.

"I'm such a selfish dick!"

I rubbed my face, leaning back in my chair. "God, Velma... what am I supposed to do?" I muttered, my voice barely audible, but I couldn't help it.

A secretary knocked and held out a coffee. "Sir, your meeting with the collaborators is in ten."

I nodded, trying to pull myself together. "Yeah, thanks," I muttered, but even as I walked toward the conference room, my thoughts kept drifting back. I couldn't stop thinking about her, about the hurt in her eyes last night, about the fear, the tears.

I couldn't even step through the door without my chest tightening, a cold weight pressing down on me. I had thought a small gift, something simple, would soften things, even just a little, and maybe remind Velma that I hadn't completely lost my mind. But the moment I stepped into the living room, the air hit me like a brick wall.

They were there. Eva, standing in her perfect posture, with that smug, calculated smile she always wore, and my mother, eyes narrow and sharp, like I had already committed some unforgivable crime. My gift felt absurd in my hand.

"What... what are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm, though irritation and disbelief were burning my throat.

Eva's eyes flicked to the gift. Her smile curved wider, slow and deliberate, like she was savoring every second of my panic. She reached forward, took it from me without a word, and examined it, or pretended to, before casually handing me a brown file.

I frowned, lifting it with a hesitant hand. "What... what's this?"

She didn't answer immediately. She tilted her head, that same wicked curve to her lips. "Open it," she said softly. "You'll want to see this."

My stomach dropped as I unfolded the papers. Divorce papers. Signed. Velma's signature, bold and real, stared back at me like a cruel joke.

"No... no, no, no," I stammered, voice rising. "Who... who sent her? Where is she? Where's Velma?"

No one answered. Panic began to coil in my chest. I ran toward our bedroom, mind screaming with possibilities, with horrors. The door swung open under my hand. Empty. Silent. The bed untouched, the sheets smooth and cold. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, each beat a reminder of the distance growing between us.

"What the hell is happening?!" I shouted, voice cracking. I spun, looking back toward the living room, my fists clenching, my mind searching for some thread of reason in the chaos.

My mother's voice finally cut through, soft but sharp, slicing through the confusion like a knife. "Oh, Dylan... I was so happy when I heard that Eva is carrying your child."

I froze. "What? You said that to my wife?" My voice cracked, panic crawling up my chest like fire. I turned sharply to Eva, my eyes wide, my heart hammering in my ribs.

Eva's smile was cruel, sharp, and so unnerving. "I did," she said slowly, deliberately. "I also... fast-tracked the divorce. All according to your plan... kind of."

I felt my knees weaken. "I... I begged you not to say anything! I was going to tell her myself! How could you? How could you...." My voice broke mid-sentence. I sank heavily into a chair, gripping the papers as though holding them would pull her back to me, would undo everything that had gone wrong. But of course, it didn't.

"Dylan," my mother said sharply, her tone cutting through my panic. "Watch your words. That is a pregnant woman. That is your wife."

I looked at her, confused, disbelief mixing with anger. "What? Who is my wife? Stop that. Velma is my only wife!"

"She is pregnant, Dylan," my mother said, her voice softer now but firm. "It is for the best. You must marry Eva as soon as possible."

"No!" The word tore from my chest. "This isn't a joke. I am not in the mood for your games." My voice echoed through the room, rough, desperate, raw. I grabbed my phone and started dialing Velma. Again. And again. Every time, the line wouldn't go through. My stomach twisted. My heart slammed against my ribs. "Where is she?" I whispered to myself, my fingers shaking as they pressed the screen.

I couldn't stay there. I jumped into my car, my mind racing, my chest tight. I drove straight to her adoptive parents' house, praying, hoping that they would understand, that they would help me find her, explain where she had gone, and tell me she was safe.

But when I got there, hope died fast. Their faces weren't concerned, they were smug. Almost mocking.

Their eyes held no warmth, no compassion, only a cold satisfaction I couldn't understand. "Ah, Dylan," one of them said, smiling as though they'd been waiting just for me. "You've come to ask about Velma, I suppose?"

"Yes!" I yelled, my voice sharp, desperate. "Where is she? Is she okay??"

They laughed softly, too calm, too amused, and it made my chest tighten even more. "See? Velma... she's gone where she needs to go. And you..." they leaned forward slightly, eyes glittering with something I couldn't name. "You need to accept things. Forget her, Dylan. Forget the past. Maybe it's time you start thinking about Eva."

"When are you coming for Eva's hand in marriage?" one of them asked. "Forget about Velma. She's not your concern anymore."

"Maybe she was never really yours to begin with."

My blood boiled, and I left without saying anything to them. I slammed my fist on the car steering wheel and left, driving away so fast I barely noticed the streets passing. My mind raced, heart pounding.

I pulled into a quiet spot, took a deep breath, and started pressing buttons on my phone I knew could track people, any people, anyone who could tell me where she was. I needed to find her. I needed to fix this.

I muttered to myself, "Where are you, Velma? Where did you go?" My voice was almost a growl. "I'm so sorry. I can't..."