Page 55 of Ravaged Hearts
On the balcony adjacent to mine, a heavily pregnant woman sat in a chair with her bare feet propped on a low coffee table. The mid-length white dress she wore clung to her swollen belly and otherwise slender frame. Long dark locks cascaded over her shoulders in silken waves. She was…stunning. High cheekbones, full lips, sultry eyes—despite the obvious exhaustion in them.
I pressed a palm to my pounding heart. “You scared me.”
The woman brought her red manicured fingernails to her lips and lit a cigarette before tossing the lighter on the table. “If I’m the scariest thing you’ve met in this house, you need to recalibrate your monster radar.” Glancing at her large stomach, she took a long drag and blew smoke into the air. “Don’t judge me. This is the first cigarette I’ve had in thirty-eight weeks. Small pleasures.”
“You must be Jorge’s wife.”
“Gabriela.” She tapped the cigarette over the ashtray, and my gaze landed on the purple bruises circling her wrist. There were fading stripes on the column of her delicate neck, too.
Jorge, you vile son of a bitch.
“You can relax,” she added. “I’m not upset that you’re here to service my husband.”
“Oh, God no.” My nose wrinkled. “I’m not here for that.”
She tilted her head. “Then who are you?”
“Elena. Elena Espinoza Demarco.” That tainted name rolling off my tongue burned like acid.
Gabriela’s brows lifted with the first shred of emotion to cross her expression. Had she always been so apathetic? Or had living in the compound, forever bound to Jorge, numbed her?
“You look very alive for a dead girl.” Gabriela sucked on her cigarette again while assessing my scars with curiosity rather than revulsion. “Where have you been all this time?”
Since I couldn’t be certain if she felt any loyalty toward Jorge, I stuck with my story. “When everyone thought I’d died, I let them keep believing that. I wanted to live a little without Jorge or my father interfering.”
“Freedom.” Gabriela snorted. “How lovely for you.” She leaned forward and flicked ash from the burning tip of her cigarette again. “You were once promised to Jorge, no?”
“I was.”
“So?” She jerked her chin toward me. “How does it feel?”
I tilted my head, confused by her question.
She gestured to her belly. “To come face-to-face with what your future might’ve been like. If you hadn’t been off enjoying your independence, you’d be sitting where I am now. Carrying the devil’s baby, being his compliant whore and occasional punching bag.”
An all-too-familiar sickness washed over me. If I hadn’t hidden from my family’s expectations, Gabriela would be free, perhaps living her life as peacefully as I had in Playa de la Palmera. My selfish decision had caused this woman’s pain. Would it ever end?
Not until Jorge is dead.
I couldn’t fix the past, but my actions could shape a better future for so many.
Exhaling deeply, I wrapped my sweaty palms around the balcony’s handrail, although the cool iron provided no relief. “I’m sorry, Gabriela. When I decided not to return, I never considered the consequences for whomever would have to take my place. You should never have had to bear this burden.”
Althoughburdenhardly seemed a fitting word to describe the horrors Gabriela must’ve endured over the last three years.She neither accepted nor rejected my apology. I supposed it meant little to her.
“And now that you’re back, what does Jorge plan to do with you?” Gabriela’s eyes came to mine, and when I hesitated to answer, she laughed bitterly. “I see. I’m being replaced. I’d be thrilled about that, except I know how Jorge handles complications.” She took another long drag. “He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”
Lying seemed pointless, but what was I supposed to tell her? That her asshole husband cared so little that he was ready to put a bullet in her brain to make room for me? It repulsed me how easily he’d made that decision.
Finally, I found my voice to say what we both already knew. “Yes, that’s Jorge’s plan.”
“And the baby?” She placed a hand over her stomach.
“He’ll wait until after it’s delivered.” Her relieved expression almost broke my heart. “I don’t want to marry Jorge. I didn’t come back for that.”
She lifted one impeccably shaped brow. “Whatdidyou come back for?”
Could I tell Gabriela my plans? She didn’t like Jorge any more than I did, but could I trust her not to rat me out to gain favor with her husband? After all, if I were out of the picture, perhaps Jorge would let her live.