VANESSA
The door swung open hard, crashing against the wall. I barely had time to process what was happening before I saw her—Pamela—thrown onto the floor like trash. Her face was a mess. Swollen lip, fresh bruises, blood drying on her cheek.
“Pamela!” I shot up from the chair, heart lurching in my chest.
But a hand slammed down on my shoulder, holding me in place. That touch was like a fuse—my body trembled with rage I couldn’t act on. I didn’t have to look to know it was him. Michael Cárdenas. Cold eyes, colder soul.
“Sit,” he said. Just one word, enough to silence me.
I bit down my instinct to lash out. I stayed in the chair.
Pamela was kneeling on the dirty floor now, head bowed like a prisoner about to be sentenced. Her hands trembled in her lap. One tear slid down her cheek, bu
