4: Shattered

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 hand

Dehydrated,” 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… happened?”

“You fainted,” he replied, almost bored. “In front of the police station, no less. Quite the scene.”

I swallowed, embarrassment burning my cheeks. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“And yet here you are, alive because of it.” He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “Or would you have preferred to be left on the street?”

I glared at him, wishing I had the strength to wipe that smug look off his face.

I then tried to sit up again, wincing at the ache in my muscles. “If you’re here for some kind of thank you, you’re wasting your time.”

His lips curved into a smirk. “I don’t need it anyway.”

Before I could retort, a petite nurse walked in, glancing between us with a polite smile as she moved to adjust the IV and check a monitor for my vitals. Alejandro stepped back, arms crossed, watching the interaction with an unreadable expression

“Dr. Patel will be in shortly,” the nurse said, her voice soft as she checked my chart. “Your dehydration was concerning, but there’s something else we need to discuss with you.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving an uneasy silence in her wake. I swallowed hard, anxiety clawing its way into my chest. Alejandro’s eyes were still on me, piercing, like he was peeling back layers of me.

The door opened again, and Dr. Patel entered. She glanced at Alejandro, then focused on me. “Estella, I need to discuss your condition with you. It appears… you’re pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I stared at her, struggling to process what she’d just said.

Pregnant?

My hand instinctively moved to my stomach, a surge of emotions rushing through me—shock, confusion, fear.

“However, given your… condition, the pregnancy is delicate. There are signs of trauma, and you’re at a high risk of miscarriage. You’ll need to be very careful, especially in the coming weeks.”

Alejandro’s gaze burned into me, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I felt raw, exposed.

The doctor hesitated. “Have you… been hurt recently? I noticed some bruising and—”

“No.” My voice came out harsher than I intended. “There’s nothing.” I forced myself to hold Alejandro’s gaze, refusing to let him see the cracks beneath my facade. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him think I was weak.

He simply raised an eyebrow, his silence louder than words.

The doctor nodded, though a shadow of concern lingered in her eyes. “If you experience any pain, or…” She trailed off, glancing at Alejandro, then quickly excused herself.

As soon as she left, Alejandro’s stare intensified, his lips pressing into a thin line. “So you’re just going to pretend everything’s fine?”

I looked away, clenching my jaw. “What I do isn’t any of your business.”

“Oh, it’s not, is it?” He scoffed, stepping closer. “If you think you’re fooling anyone, you’re delusional.”

I shot him a glare. “I don’t need you to play hero, Alejandro.”

“Hero?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Trust me, Estella, I’m far from a hero. I’m just a man who’s tired of watching you destroy yourself.”

He continued “ I’m not blind, Estella. I can see the bruises. I’m not some fool you can brush off with your stubborn pride.”

I looked away, the shame gnawing at me. The bruises… the scars Marco had left… they were etched into my skin, marks of my past.

“Who did this to you? Marco?” His voice was quieter this time, the arrogance fading, replaced by something that sounded almost… concerned. But I couldn’t trust it, couldn’t let myself believe in the sincerity behind his words.

“Just… leave me alone,” I whispered, my voice barely holding steady. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity?” He scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “I don’t waste pity on people who wallow in self-destruction.

Before I could fire back, my phone buzzed on the table beside me. Alejandro handed it to me. My fingers trembled as I unlocked it, and a wave of dread washed over me.

Photos of my arrest had flooded social media, each image more humiliating than the last. The messages were endless—former friends, supporters, sponsors, all condemning me.

Alejandro watched as I scrolled, his expression unreadable.

“Congratulations,” I said bitterly, throwing the phone onto the bed. “Looks like the world finally sees me as the monster they always wanted.”

“Marry me.”

I looked up, disbelief painted across my face. “What?”

He shrugged. “A business arrangement. You need security for the child. I need…” His eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of something dark in them. “I need revenge. We both do”

“Revenge?” I spat the word out like poison. “You want to use my child as a pawn?”

“Why not?” he replied coolly. “Your precious Marco and Claudia have done far worse, haven’t they? Think of this as…”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I cut him off. “You’re sick, Alejandro. Twisted.”

He leaned in closer, his face just inches from mine. “I’m a lot of things, Estella. But unlike you, I don’t lie to myself about what I am.”

I wanted to slap him, to scream, but all I could do was sit there, feeling trapped, cornered. He was right—I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. And he knew it

Then, a message popped up—from Claudia: How does it feel to be knocked off your pedestal?

I felt something inside me crack. I looked at Alejandro, my voice shaking. “You know what? Just get out. I don’t need your pity or your help.”

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “You’re being reckless.”

I ripped the IV from my arm, ignoring the sting of pain and blood trailing. “If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it.”

He reached out, gripping my arm before I could stumble. “Are you insane?” His voice was harsh, filled with a kind of frustration that took me by surprise. “You’re in no condition to be pulling stunts like this.”

I met his gaze, fire and exhaustion swirling in my chest. “If you’re so eager to play the hero, then here.” I reached into my purse, pulled out the few bills I had left, and shoved them into his chest. “For your troubles. For the hospital bills. Mail me an invoice if it’s not enough. I’ll pay you back.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t move as the money fell between us, fluttering to the hospital floor. He stared at it, then back at me, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“You think that’s all it costs to deal with you?” His voice was low, mocking. “Keep your money, Estella. You’ll need it more than I do.

I met his stare, refusing to let him see the cracks in my armor. “I don’t need anything from you, Alejandro.”

For a moment, he just looked at me, something like disappointment flickering in his eyes. Then, he shook his head, his voice low and rough. “You don’t know when to accept help, do you?”

My fists clenched, but there was nothing left to say. I turned, stumbling toward the door, my vision blurring as tears burned at the edges of my eyes.