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Her patience snapped like a wire under strain.

“Are youmessingwith me right now?” Her voice shook, not with fear, but with pent-up hurt that had no place left to hide.

“I’m not,” he said firmly, his grip on her hands tightening just slightly.

Her expression hardened. “Let me make this very clear, Mr. Moretti. Even if you do a million things for me, it’s not going to happen. You’re a busy man. You should stop wasting your time chasing someone like me. Now please, let go.”

She wrenched her hands free and turned away, her bare feet padding across the pavement, each step fast, angry. But before she could reach the door, his voice cut through the silence.

“I’m not busy for you. I never was.”

Krystal halted mid-step. Her shoulders rose and fell as she sucked in a shaky breath. Then, slowly, she turned back, her voice laced with fire. “Have you forgotten that you’re in love with Esther? Stop playing games with me, Lorenzo. I’m begging you.”

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. “Who told you I loved her? You were never anything less than my wife. Even when she was around.”

She blinked, stunned. “What… what did you just say?”

“I married you because I wanted to,” he said softly. “From the moment I saw you I was drawn to you. No one forced me—not my grandfather, not anyone. I chose you. I’ve always wanted you. From the very first day we became husband and wife.”

Krystal’s breath caught. She stared at him like she didn’t recognize the man in front of her. Lorenzo Moretti—the guarded, cold-hearted man who never let anyone in—was now peeling himself open, right there on the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, just for her.

Then his voice lowered, gentle but edged with pain. “Tell me something, Krystal… did you only marry me to repay my grandpa’s favor? Was I never anything more to you?”

Her body went still. She swallowed hard. “You… you know about that?”

“Answer me,” he whispered, stepping closer. “Please, Krystal. I’m dying here.”

Her voice came out small. Fragile. “I fell in love with you. But it was clear you didn’t feel the same. You married me because your grandfather wanted you to. I was just… convenient. I was never anything more to you.”

Lorenzo stepped in instantly, his hand rising to her face, cupping her cheek tenderly. His thumb brushed her skin in slow, delicate strokes, like he was touching something sacred.

“That’s not true,” he said urgently, his voice rushed and rising. “I thought I owed Esther. I thought she was the one I’d slept with when I was drugged, two years ago. She said she got hurt because of me. I felt guilty. I thought I’d ruined her life.”

His brows pulled together, pain flickering in his eyes. “But it was you, wasn’t it? That night—it wasn’t Esther. It was you I slept with. Why didn’t you tell me the truth back then?”

Krystal’s lips parted in confusion. “What was there to tell? I thought you didn’t even remember that night…”

He exhaled sharply, eyes darkening with frustration. “Esther claimed she was the woman I slept with. I believed her. And you never told me it was you. You never told me we’d met long before Grandpa ever got involved.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She stood there, stunned, heart pounding against her ribs. The way he looked at her—with that rare mix of vulnerability and desperation—it made her heart twist painfully.

Finally, she bit her lip, gathering the courage to speak. Her voice trembled. “I didn’t know at first. Not until… the night we stayed at the hotel. After we slept together.” She hesitated, her eyes dropping. “That night, I recognized you. You were the man from two years ago.”

Her breath hitched. “I was drugged that night too. I didn’t see your face before I left.”

She looked away, her arms wrapping around herself.

“When I realized it was you,” Krystal whispered, her voice raw, “I didn’t know how to tell you. You were already in love with Esther. What was there for me to explain?”

She took a step back, pulling away, but Lorenzo’s hand slid from her cheek to the back of her head, guiding her closer, refusing to let her go.

“Krystal,” he said quickly, eyes burning into hers, “I was never in love with her. It was guilt. That’s all it ever was. I thought I’d ruined someone’s life. I felt responsible—not in love.”

She stared at him, stunned. Her chest rose and fell sharply, her thoughts a blur of confusion and buried pain. She gave a short nod, almost numb, and turned to leave again—overwhelmed, too full to speak.

But Lorenzo wasn’t done. His hand closed around her wrist, and before she could react, he spun her around. Her back hit the side of his car with a soft thud, his body closing in, caging hers in place. Not forcefully—but close enough for her heart to race.

His voice dropped, softer now, rich with emotion. “There were too many secrets between us. I screwed it all up. And I am at fault for not giving you what you deserved when we were married. But please, baby…”