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121: The Clock is Ticking
Last Updated:
2025-02-06 23:34:12
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Estella’s POVPain.It dragged me awake, sharp and radiating from my skull, pulsing down my spine. My head throbbed like someone had driven a nail into my skull. My body felt heavy, weak. My wrists were raw, tied behind me with something rough that dug into my skin.I blinked, my vision slow to clear.Darkness.Not complete, but close. A single flickering lightbulb buzzed above me, casting shadows across the damp concrete walls. The air was thick with the scent of mildew, rust, and something rotten.A bad fucking sign.My pulse hammered.The last thing I remembered—Diane. On the floor. A voice behind me. Mia.And then—blackness.I tried to move, but the ropes around my wrists burned. My ankles were tied too, the chair beneath me creaking with every shift of my weight. My breathing came fast, uneven.Where the hell am I?Memories slammed into me.Benjamin. The last time I was in this exact position—tied, helpless, the weight of a man’s body crushing me down while Alejandro watched, una
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I tilt my head toward the mirror, squinting to see if the makeup covers the red mark. The foundation smooths over the skin fine enough, but somehow, I can still feel it—a prickling reminder right there on my cheekbone. I dab another layer, then another, the brush pressing harder until my jaw clenches. He didn’t even flinch. I shake the thought away, pulling back to check my work. The mirror reflects something close enough to perfect, so I force a smile. I pick up my phone and tap into it. This—decorations, outfit, everything—has to mean something. Tonight’s the night. As the camera goes live, I tilt my face just right, adding a little shimmer of joy to my eyes. I’ve practiced the smile enough that it comes naturally. “Hi, everyone! Welcome back to Estella’s Living,” I chirp, waving. “Tonight’s a special night. It’s our five-year anniversary, and I thought you’d all love a little peek into the surprise I’ve put together for him.” I adjust the angle to show the beautifully arrang
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I opened my eyes, feeling the sting before I even tried to move. The sunlight streamed in through the curtains, too bright, almost mocking. My body ached in places I couldn’t name, and the sheets felt like a trap, suffocating me. I glanced to the side, half-expecting to see Marco still lying there, but he was gone. Of course he was gone. I forced myself to sit up, wincing as I felt the bruises starting to form. My mind wandered, replaying fragments of last night, but I pushed them away. I wouldn’t break now, not over him. But when I stood, each step across the bedroom felt like a betrayal. This room, these walls—they used to feel safe. I stumbled out of bed, holding onto the wall for support as I made my way through the room. The house, once warm and filled with love, felt foreign and cold now. I quickly showered and changed avoiding the mirror all through. I passed by the nursery—the room we’d painted together when we were happy, laughing, believing in a future that now seemed a
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Tears blurred my vision, but I could still make out the dim glow of streetlights outside the cab , casting shadows that only deepened the ache in my chest. I hugged myself, leaning into the cold leather seat, barely holding it together as the city blurred past into faded memories and fractured hopes I wish I could forget . Each sob ripped through me, leaving a raw emptiness in its wake, as if I’d drained some part of me I’d never get back. A tissue appeared over the seat. I looked up, surprised, meeting the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They were oddly warm, though lined with the kind of weariness that comes from years of late nights and endless fares. I took the tissue with a shaking hand, dabbing at the mess on my cheeks, knowing there was no way a thin piece of paper could fix what was broken in me. He adjusted his rearview mirror, and our eyes met for a heartbeat. Something about him looked familiar, as if I’d seen him before, but my mind was too foggy to piece it toget
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The world slipped back into focus, muffled sounds of machines and soft beeps dragging me awake. My eyes felt heavy, and I blinked slowly, disoriented. The antiseptic scent of the hospital hit me, making my stomach twist. I tried to shift, only to feel a dull ache radiate through me, and that’s when I noticed the IV drip attached to my handDehydrated,” a distant voice said. “Her condition could have worsened had she remained untreated.”Condition? What condition?I blinked slowly, confusion clouding my thoughts as I fought to stay conscious. Why was I in a hospital? Who had brought me here?Darkness pulled me under again.When I resurfaced, the room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of paper. “Finally awake?”I turned my head, eyes landing on a man leaning against the door, arms folded. Alejandro. His voice was smooth but detached, every syllable dripping with a kind of restrained arrogance that made my skin prickle.I tried to push myself up, but my body protested. “What… happen
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The rain lashed against my face like tiny needles, soaking through my thin shirt as I stumbled out of the hospital doors. My hair clung to my face, and my sneakers squelched with every step. I didn’t know where I was going—I just knew I needed to keep moving. Anywhere but here. My steps faltered when a wave of nausea washed over me. This is too much for one day. Kicked out. Arrested. Pregnant. I laughed bitterly, my hand instinctively pressing against my flat stomach. “Pregnant,” I whispered to no one. It was absurd. Maybe the doctors were wrong. Maybe fate wasn’t this cruel. But it was. Of course, it was. A baby. A child. After years of Marco’s abuse,his insults, of his mother’s cruel words, of being called barren—a curse in heels. And now, when he’d thrown me out like garbage, this child decided to show up. I laughed again, louder this time, the sound strangled and raw. “Unbelievable,” I muttered, shaking my head. I was an orphan. I had no one except my adoptive parents who ra
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I stepped inside and paused. This was Alejandro’s home? I couldn’t hide my shock, my gaze sweeping the modern but modest interior. It wasn’t what I imagined for someone like him—someone who oozed arrogance and power at every turn. I expected more. A penthouse, a sprawling mansion, maybe. A villa with towering columns. And an army of staff at his beck and call Instead, this was sleek, modern, and painfully understated.“You live here?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.Alejandro turned from where he was shrugging off his jacket, smirking as he caught the disbelief in my voice. “Not impressed, princess?”I narrowed my eyes, already regretting speaking. “It’s not what I expected, that’s all. And don’t call me princess,”“Well, too bad this isn’t a replica of your husband’s mansion,” he shot back.I bristled, heat creeping up my neck. “I just didn’t expect…” I trailed off, biting back the urge to say something I’d regret. He didn’t need more ammunition.“Oh? And what exactly
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Alejandro’s chuckle was low and unrelenting, the kind that made your skin prickle because it wasn’t just a laugh—it was a challenge. “You’re so dirty-minded,” he said, the words vibrating through the air like a ripple of static I groaned and peeked through one eye, catching a glimpse of his black shorts. My breath hitched before relief washed over me. Oh, thank God. “Relax, princess,” he said, his voice dangerously close to my ear, making the hairs on my neck stand on end. “It’s just skin. Not like you’ve never seen a man before.” “Don’t flatter yourself,” I snapped, my eyes squeezed shut again. “And stop calling me that.” He shifted closer. I felt it, the heat of him radiating through the air between us, and my breath hitched again before I could stop it “Fine,” he drawled, his tone dripping with a smirk I didn’t need to see to know was there. “Would you rather I say cinderella? Or should I just stick with my guest who doesn’t know how to follow simple rules? I hated the w
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Latest chapter
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Estella’s POVPain.It dragged me awake, sharp and radiating from my skull, pulsing down my spine. My head throbbed like someone had driven a nail into my skull. My body felt heavy, weak. My wrists were raw, tied behind me with something rough that dug into my skin.I blinked, my vision slow to clear.Darkness.Not complete, but close. A single flickering lightbulb buzzed above me, casting shadows across the damp concrete walls. The air was thick with the scent of mildew, rust, and something rotten.A bad fucking sign.My pulse hammered.The last thing I remembered—Diane. On the floor. A voice behind me. Mia.And then—blackness.I tried to move, but the ropes around my wrists burned. My ankles were tied too, the chair beneath me creaking with every shift of my weight. My breathing came fast, uneven.Where the hell am I?Memories slammed into me.Benjamin. The last time I was in this exact position—tied, helpless, the weight of a man’s body crushing me down while Alejandro watched, una
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Estella POVThe soft glow of the bedroom lamp cast warm shadows on the walls as I lay against Alejandro’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers lazily traced slow circles on my bare back, his other hand tangled in my hair.For the first time in weeks, there was no tension, no outside noise, no lingering ghosts from the past clawing at our peace. Just us.I felt his chest rise and fall beneath my cheek, steady and strong, like the man himself.It should have been easy to relax. To let go. To finally breathe.The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. The scandal, Camila’s downfall, the endless media storm—yet through it all, we had fought for each other. And we were still standing.Alejandro had changed. Not in the way that made me question if he was still the man I fell for, but in the way that told me he had learned. He let me in now. Into his world, his business, his thoughts. He no longer shut me out when things got messy.And I… I was learning too. To t
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“Mamá,” she forced a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re being dramatic—”“You have one week to vacate this hotel,” Lucia cut her off.Camila’s chest tightened painfully.“After that, the Ramirez family will no longer be responsible for your expenses.”The blood drained from her face. “What?” she whispered.Lucia tilted her head. “Did I stutter?”Camila’s entire body started shaking. “No. No, no, no—you can’t just throw me away,” she choked. “I’m your daughter! Your only daughter. ”Lucia sighed, like she was bored. “You are my daughter,” she corrected. “But that does not mean I wouldn’t have to punish you..”Camila’s breath hitched. Tears blurred her vision. “Mamá, please,” she begged.Lucia’s expression didn’t change. “You will publicly apologize,” she continued. “On live television. You will admit to every single one of your lies.”Camila gripped the edge of the couch.“You will confess to faking the pregnancy.”Lucia stepped closer, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper.“You wil
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Third Person POVThe sound of laughter followed her everywhere she went.Camila clutched her purse, her heels clicking against the pavement as she practically ran down the street. Phones pointed at her. Her breath was ragged, her entire body trembling.“Camila Ramirez, exposed as a fraud!”“Damn, she really tried to fake a pregnancy?”“She looks like she’s about to cry—wait, is she crying?”This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. She shoved past people, ignoring their smirks, their stares.Her car wasn’t here. Her driver was gone.“Fuck,” she hissed under her breath.A paparazzi jumped in front of her, camera flashing. “Camila! Camila! Any comments on being exposed?”Her vision blurred with rage. “Get the fuck out of my face!” she snapped, shoving the camera away.A crowd had gathered. People were recording. She turned, frantic, feeling like a trapped animal.The whole world was laughing at her. Her face burned as she sprinted to the nearest cab, yanking the door open.Th
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The tension behind the scenes was electric.Producers whispered into headsets, camera operators adjusted their angles, and assistants scurried across the glossy studio floor like ants preparing for battle.The Rivera Report’s executive producer, Joel Carter, was already sweating bullets.Never in the show’s history had they extended a live broadcast. Never had they thrown in a last-minute guest, especially one who was about to challenge everything their current guest had just spewed on national television.But Estella De Luca had called directly.She hadn’t begged. She hadn’t pleaded. She’d simply said, “I have evidence. You’ll want to put me on.”And just like that, they’d made room.She had arrived silently, without any entourage or noise.She wore black. Not just any black—a tailored, razor-sharp Alexander McQueen suit, sculpted to her body like armor. Underneath, a sleek, silk camisole dipped just enough to hint at femininity, but the overall message was clear:Untouchable. Unshak
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Third-Person POV She had spent the last few days working with a tech expert—a discreet, well-paid hacker—to create an entire text thread that looked exactly like Alejandro’s messages.The messages painted a perfect story.Late-night apologies. Him begging her not to tell Estella.The final cherry on top?A message from “Alejandro” sent just last night:“She doesn’t have to know.”“Just one last time.”“You know I can’t stay away.”Camila nearly sighed at her own brilliance.Henry exhaled on the other end of the line. “You sure this is solid? If we post this and it turns out fake—”“It’s real enough,” she cut in. “Besides, we both know the public doesn’t care about facts. They care about scandals.”He grunted. “True. What else do you have?”Camila’s smirk deepened. “A hotel footage.”The Wexford had been the perfect place to execute her plan. Not only was it private and exclusive, but its security system? Laughable.A few tears, a little gaslighting about an “obsessed ex,” and the poo
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Third-Person POVCamila strolled into La Belle Boutique on the ground floor of the building housing Wexford Hotel.The store smelled of expensive leather and French perfume, the kind of place where only the elite could afford to breathe, let alone shop. Camila fit right in.A young sales associate—probably new—approached her hesitantly. “Good afternoon, Miss. Can I help you find anything?”Camila barely spared her a glance. “I’m browsing.”The girl nodded quickly and stepped back. Camila’s fingers trailed over a silk gown, unimpressed.She wasn’t here for the clothes. She was here because shopping soothed her—because controlling people made her feel alive.And she needed that rush today.Because Estella De Luca was still standing.Camila clenched her jaw, suppressing the familiar rage. She should have been gone by now. A ruined woman. A ghost of a scandal.But no.Estella was still married. Still playing house with her man. The contract leak has failed.Camila forced a smile as she tu
