Page 95

Damion stiffened. His brows furrowed as he looked at Krystal. “My child? What child? What the hell is he talking about?”

Lorenzo went silent. His expression turned from rage to disbelief. Then he slowly turned toward her, his rage flaring into betrayal.

"He doesn’t evenknow?" His voice cracked. "You’re getting an abortion, and he doesn’t even fucking know about it?"

“Lorenzo, shut up!” she shouted, shoving him back.

But he advanced again, grabbing her shoulders roughly.

"You need to come back to your fucking senses, Krystal!" he roared. "Don’t ruin your life over me or any other goddamn man, for fuck’s sake!”

Then he let go, breathing hard, eyes wild—and stormed out of the hospital without another word.

***

The Blue Orchid Bar was buzzing with music and chatter as always, but inside VIP Room 50, silence drowned everything. The lights were dim, a single bottle of whiskey almost empty.

Lorenzo sat slouched on the leather couch, glass in hand, downing whiskey like water. His eyes were bloodshot, his knuckles and face bruised, his jaw clenched tight.

He downed another drink, his voice low and wrecked.

“I thought I could take care of her,” he muttered, voice low and defeated. “Krystal. I thought I could handle it all. Keep everything under control. But this… this thing,” he spat thewords like poison, “This fucked-up mess—I don’t even know how to fix it anymore."

"It’s not your fault," Michael said quietly, placing a hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder. "You can only blame Krystal for sleeping with—"

Before he could finish, Lorenzo grabbed Michael by the collar and yanked him forward, his eyes sharp with warning.

Michael immediately raised both hands. “Alright, alright—I won’t say anything bad about her.”

Lorenzo slowly let go and dropped back into his seat. A heavy, shuddering sigh escaped his chest.

“If two years ago I hadn’t…” his voice cracked. “If I hadn’t slept with Esther, maybe… maybe I’d be a father by now. Krystal and I would’ve had our own family. A real one.”

Just then, Larry walked in, smiling, completely oblivious to the heavy mood hanging in the air.

"What’s with the long faces, lads?" he asked with a laugh, heading to the couch.

Lorenzo didn’t even look at him. He grabbed another glass, filled it with whiskey, downed it in one go, and dropped it back on the table with a loud thud.

Michael shot Larry a warning glance. “Don’t talk.”

“What ‘don’t talk’?” Larry mocked Michael as he dropped down on the couch opposite Lorenzo. He slapped a hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder and grinned. “Aren’t you going to reward me?”

Lorenzo’s bloodshot eyes shifted toward him. His jaw tensed as he growled, “If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll hit you.”

Larry jerked back immediately. “What the hell, man? I reallydohave something worth rewarding!” He fumbled with his phone, scrolling quickly. "Didn’t you want to know who the woman was—the one who slept with you that night at the hotel? I finally recovered the footage.”

Lorenzo’s drunken gaze flicked to Larry. He put his whiskey glass down slowly, eyes narrowing. “Show me.”

“Nowthat’sthe attitude I like,” Larry grinned, smug as ever. “Just remember, this took serious effort.” He slid the phone across the table and pressed play on a video—the surveillance footage from the hotel that night, the night Lorenzo had been drugged.

Lorenzo’s eyes burned into the screen. It showed only the back of a woman. But something about her—the way she moved, the curve of her shoulders, the long hair, the dress—pulled at him. His jaw clenched as he leaned in closer.

“She looks... familiar,” he muttered, his voice low. His entire body tensed.

Then, “Krystal?” he whispered.

“What?” Larry and Michael stared at him in shock.