10
1039 Words
ESMERALDA'S POV
The mansion was too quiet.
That was the first thing I realized after the wedding.
Not the luxury. Not the polished marble floors or the chandeliers that glittered like frozen stars. Not the endless hallways or the servants that bowed every time I walked past like I was some queen.
No.
It was the silence.
A cold, suffocating silence that wrapped around the mansion like a curse.
For two whole days, I didn’t see my husband.
Not once.
Not during breakfast.
Not during dinner.
Not even by accident.
Every time I asked where Leoandros was, the staff gave me the same answer.
“Master Leoandros is busy.”
Busy.
Busy enough to force me into a marriage but not busy enough to disappear afterward.
I should’ve been angry.
Maybe part of me was.
But mostly… I was relieved.
Because as horrible as the entire situation had been, at least I wasn’t forced into his bed. Some people seemed obsessed with consummation like s*x was some holy stamp of approval that made a marriage real.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t want him touching me.
Didn’t want his hands on my skin.
Didn’t want to belong to anyone.
Especially not after what my family had done to me.
Every second inside that mansion reminded me I was nothing more than a replacement bride.
A backup plan.
Bethany’s substitute.
The unwanted daughter they shoved forward to save themselves.
So on the third morning, I left.
No dramatic goodbye.
No note.
No tears.
I packed a small suitcase, stole back the little dignity I had left, and walked right out of the gates.
None of the guards stopped me.
Maybe they didn’t care.
Maybe Leoandros had already forgotten I existed.
Good.
I wanted him to.
By evening, I was on a plane heading back to Chicago.
The city felt colder than I remembered.
Or maybe I was colder now.
Still, when the familiar skyline appeared through the taxi window, something inside me loosened for the first time in weeks.
This was home.
Not my parents’ mansion.
Not Leoandros’ prison disguised as luxury.
Chicago.
The noisy streets.
The smell of coffee and rain.
The crowded sidewalks.
The tiny apartment I rented above an old bookstore.
That was mine.
I went back to work almost immediately because sitting still meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering everything I wanted to forget.
The café owner nearly cried when he saw me.
“Esme! You disappeared!”
I forced a smile.
“Family emergency.”
That was easier than explaining I’d been kidnapped into a billionaire marriage arrangement.
The café was the same as always.
Warm lighting.
Soft jazz music.
The smell of espresso beans.
Tourists taking pictures of their drinks like it was a life achievement.
I slipped back into routine easily.
Smile.
Take orders.
Deliver drinks.
Ignore the ache in my chest.
At night, I also picked up shifts working as a hostess for cruise events along the river like I used to before everything went insane.
The money was decent.
The distraction was better.
And slowly, I started breathing again.
Until the second day.
That was when I noticed the van.
At first, I thought nothing of it.
It was parked across the street from the café.
Black.
Large.
Tinted windows.
Odd, but not enough to panic over.
Chicago was full of weird people.
But an hour later, it was still there.
And another hour after that.
Still there.
My stomach tightened.
I wiped down a table near the window while pretending not to stare.
Something felt wrong.
The van was too still.
Too deliberate.
Like it was waiting.
For someone.
For me.
I swallowed hard and reached for my phone beneath the counter.
Maybe I was paranoid.
Maybe marrying a dangerous man had finally broken my brain.
Then the van doors slammed open.
Seven men jumped out.
Everything happened too fast after that.
Black suits.
Heavy boots.
Guns.
Huge guns.
One second the street was normal.
The next, people were screaming.
Coffee cups shattered against the sidewalk.
A woman near the crosswalk dropped her groceries and ran.
My heart nearly stopped.
“Oh my God…”
One of the men pointed directly at the café.
At me.
“THERE!”
Fear exploded through me.
“Esmeralda!” my manager shouted.
The café erupted into chaos.
Customers ducked under tables.
Someone screamed to call the police.
And then the first gunshot rang out.
The sound cracked through the street so loudly my ears started ringing instantly.
Glass exploded beside me.
I dropped to the floor with a gasp.
People cried.
More gunshots followed.
Not warning shots.
Real ones.
I crawled behind the counter shaking violently.
What the hell was happening?!
Who were these people?!
Another shot blasted through the front windows.
The entire café shook.
“GET HER!” one of the men roared.
Me.
They were here for me.
Terror clawed up my throat.
I scrambled backward on my hands and knees while my brain screamed one name.
Leoandros.
This had to be connected to him.
There was no other explanation.
No normal woman had armed men storming a café for her.
My breathing turned ragged.
I needed to run.
Now.
I bolted toward the back exit just as the café doors burst open.
Heavy footsteps thundered inside.
“Find her!”
“Move!”
I nearly slipped on the kitchen tiles in panic.
My hands shook so badly I struggled with the back door handle.
Come on.
Come on.
COME ON—
The door finally flew open.
Cold air slammed into me.
I ran.
I didn’t think.
Didn’t look back.
I just ran into the alley behind the café as gunshots echoed somewhere behind me.
Tears blurred my vision.
My lungs burned.
This couldn’t be real.
This couldn’t be happening again.
I turned the corner sharply—
—and crashed straight into a hard chest.
A hand gripped my arm instantly.
I gasped, trying to pull away.
Then I looked up.
Black suit.
Dirty brown hair tied lazily behind his back.
Sea blue eyes.
Cold expression.
Dangerous.
Beautiful.
My blood ran cold.
Leoandros Drakos stared down at me like death itself.
“You are becoming very difficult to retrieve, wife.”
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