The Runaway Mrs Dela Merced ( English )

Chapter - 4

*Chapter 2 — Vincent POV*

“Ella,” I whispered and dragged a rough hand down my face.

Ever since I saw Ella at the airport earlier, I couldn’t get her out of my head. Her eyes were cloudy, like she’d just been crying. Her lips—naturally red, slightly parted, like an invitation. Her body slim, but with curves. She was wearing a white top that almost showed her navel and jeans that hugged her thighs. Her hair was messy, tied up, but it suited her.

And I noticed the other men at the airport. The way they looked at Ella, like they were undressing her with their eyes. I wanted to punch every single one of them. She was my wife. Mine.

“Damn it!” I cursed when a strange heat crawled through my slacks.

Now she was back. It’s payback, Mrs. dela Merced.

My teeth ground together. Every time I remembered what Ella did leaving on the night of our wedding, the anger burned hotter. She left me hanging. I was the one who faced the questions. I was the one who faced the humiliation in front of our relatives in front of all of San Miguel.

I still didn’t understand why she left so suddenly. Why she marry me if she was just going to run away afterward? I couldn’t accept the shame she gave me.

Now, Ella was back. And she had to pay. And her body, that body I couldn’t forget from earlier—that was what I’d collect.

Just thinking about my wife’s body sent a strange heat through me. Was I that desperate?

For four years, I tried to forget Ella. But one looked at her earlier, and I already wanted to claim her and lock her in our room until she forgot the word _leave_.

Was I desperate? For my own wife? For the woman who ruined my name?

Yes. And I didn’t want to think about why.

I was determined. Ella had a debt, and her body was the payment. And she was tied to me she had to give me what I demanded.

Suddenly, the intercom buzzed, yanking me back to reality. My secretary. Mr. Ynarez was calling me to his office.

I already knew why. I knew we’d talk about Ella’s return.

I exhaled and fixed myself before leaving my office.

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“Ella is still upset and crying,” Mr. Ynarez started sadly the moment I entered his office.

“My wife asked me to stop this. She’s worried about Ella. But… she’s your wife now. The decision is in your hands, Vincent,” he continued.

“I had her come back to the country because I think you two need to live together as husband and wife. I think four years is enough to heal whatever wounds there are,” Mr. Ynarez went on.

I swallowed while I kept listening.

“Can you promise me, Vincent, that you won’t hurt Ella?” he asked me seriously. He looked me straight in the eyes.

My back stiffened, and I met his gaze. To me, Mr. Ynarez’s eyes were full of sadness. He looked older, worn down by grief and exhaustion.

“Yes, sir. We’re going to start over. We still have time to fix the things we both messed up,” I answered.

That was what I wanted, too. To start again with Ella. We were still married. Married. Whatever the reason behind our wedding, Ella still carried my last name.

“I know you won’t hurt her, Vincent. I trust you. Don’t give me another mistake. I made a mistake when I forced you to marry my daughter,” he said, emotional, and looked out the window.

“What do you expect? I’m just a father who only wants what’s best for his child. Marrying her off was what I thought would save her from disgrace. But I never expected her to do what she did—leaving on the night of your wedding,” he said seriously.

My jaw tightened at the memory of the humiliation Ella gave me and our parents. Humiliation I faced alone. I couldn’t help clenching my fists at the anger I felt for Ella.

“Can you make a promise, Vincent?” he asked and faced me, standing beside his desk. “Promise me, Vincent. You won’t let her leave again. And… I hope you can learn to love her. Maybe your marriage can still work if you love each other. I don’t want to regret this again, Vincent. Ella leaving was a huge punishment for me,” he pleaded. The sadness, regret, and pain were clear in his eyes.

I exhaled and nodded, even though I wasn’t sure.

If love can survive their marriage? Was there even love in the life we were about to live?

All I knew was, I wanted my wife with me. For her to fulfill her role as my wife. To fulfill her duty… in my bed. That was the only thing on my mind since I saw her.

After we talked, I told Mr. Ynarez I’d pick up Ella at their house. He also invited me to dinner at their place.

When I got to the house, Mrs. Ynarez greeted me right away.

“Good evening, Mrs. Ynarez,” I said respectfully to Ella’s beautiful mom. I even kissed her on the cheek.

“Good evening, handsome,” Mrs. Ynarez greeted me warmly.

“Where’s Ella?” Mr. Ynarez asked his wife.

“She’s in her room. I’ll have the maid call her.”

“No. Let me call her,” I offered.

The couple exchanged a look before Mr. Ynarez answered. “Turn left. The second door,” he said, pointing to Ella’s room.

I just nodded and walked up the grand staircase.

When I got upstairs, I knocked. But after several knocks, no one answered. So I slowly opened the door.

It was a bit dark inside. Only the dim light from the lampshade lit the room, but I could make out the space. And there I saw my wife lying on the bed, wearing only black underwear.

I swallowed. Again and again.

I stepped closer to the big bed and looked at her carefully. She was on her side, her smooth thighs pressed together. Under the faint light, the curve of her body was clear from her shoulder to her waist. Her lips were slightly parted.

I couldn’t breathe.

In four years, this was the first time I’d seen Ella this close. Like this… mine.

I felt my body heat up, my jaw clench, my fists tighten.

“Ella,” I whispered.