Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
I can’t see the look she gives him, but she turns her attention back to me. “Sit down, Solana.”
“Tell me where she is,” she says, choosing to remain standing.
“She’s at her brother’s house.”
She studies my face again, gaze growing concerned as she understands who did the damage. “Is she okay?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
“She is.”
“How do I get in touch with her?”
I take a piece of stationery and scroll through my phone to find Ivy’s number from the text she sent me.
“Here. This is Ivy’s number. She’s Santiago’s wife. She sent me a text to let me know Mercedes was safe. You can try calling her, but I can’t promise anything. This is out of my hands, Solana.”
“What do you mean you can’t promise? How is it out of your hands? Don’t tell me you just let her go?”
It’s my turn to look away in shame, that darkness descending again. That absence of Mercedes. The knowledge of what I did.
“Jesus. You’re a real prick, you know that?” She stands, snatches up the piece of paper, and walks out of my office, slamming the door behind her.
11
MERCEDES
“Mercedes.” A gentle hand settles over my back, and I squeeze my eyes shut, burying my face deeper into the pillow.
I don’t know how many days I’ve been at the manor now. I just know I can’t bring myself to get out of bed. I can’t stop crying. I can’t let go of the pain. But most importantly, I can’t forget Judge’s final words echoing through my mind. His declaration that he couldn’t marry me.
That simple denial haunts me, day and night. Every waking second. In my heart, I always knew it would come to this. He told me he’d never marry me, and I had prepared for it. I just didn’t expect that to be the last thing he’d ever say to me. I didn’t expect him to let me go so easily—as if it wasn’t breaking him in half the way it was breaking me. He’s rid himself of me completely, sending my things back without a protest. Not a word. Not… anything.
“Mercedes.” Antonia’s soft voice comes again as she tries to stir me from my melancholy. “Please, sweetheart. You can’t stay here forever. You need to eat.”
A fresh wave of anguish pierces my heart because I know she’s right. I can’t stay here forever. I need to pull myself together and take care of my babies. But even just the thought of getting out of bed feels like too much to accomplish.
“Antonia, can you give us a moment?”
I recognize the voice from the door as Ivy’s. She’s been to see me every day since I’ve been here, unlike Santiago. At least that’s one thing I can be grateful for. I don’t think I could take another verbal lashing from him in my current state. And while Ivy and I have always been on tenuous ground, I have to admit it’s surprised me that she hasn’t come here to gloat. She could have kicked me when I was down, and I wouldn’t blame her for it. But I don’t think that’s why she keeps showing up every day.
“Of course.” Antonia gives my shoulder one last squeeze and moves from the bed. “There’s food just there. Maybe you can get her to eat something.”
After a few moments of silence, I hear the door shut, and Ivy comes to sit in the chair next to the bed. I feel her eyes on my face, and I wonder if she thinks I’m pathetic. The old me would have cared. She would have sat up straight and made some bitchy remark to show her… and the world… that nothing gets Mercedes De La Rosa down. I’m realizing just how much I don’t care about others’ opinions anymore. That woman died somewhere between Judge’s capture and my rebirth.
“I know you’re hurting,” Ivy says, her voice quiet but firm. “And I know you aren’t the kind of woman who accepts help easily, particularly from someone like me. I think, coming to understand Santiago as I do, it’s safe to say you are another De La Rosa who found a way to thrive in chaos and pain. You learned to go it alone, and that’s admirable. But right now, you need to learn to accept help when it’s offered to you, regardless of the source.”
Her observation throws me slightly off-kilter, and I don’t want to admit that she’s right, but I can’t deny it. Santiago and I are very much the same. We were raised with brutality and a militant structure, each of us finding our own ways to cope in such an emotionally sterile environment. Mine was never allowing anyone to see me falter. Never letting my head hang for even a second. Allowing anyone to see me vulnerable was unfathomable. Even now, it pains me to consider accepting comfort in my darkest hour. But Ivy has made it clear she knows that, and still, she has no plans to go anywhere.