Page 82 of Hunted to the Altar

I didn’t beg.

She rolled to the elevator, pressed the button, and waited. The doors slid open with a mechanical hiss.

I stood there, heart splintering into dust, and did nothing.

She wheeled herself forward, crossed the threshold?—

And then, just before the doors shut, she reversed.

Her voice, when it came, was a rasp, torn from something raw. "Don’t make me regret trusting you."

Then she turned and rolled back into the penthouse, leaving the bag abandoned in front of the elevator.

I sank to my knees.

Not for show. Not for pity.

But because I finally understood what it meant to love someone more than you needed to keep them.

I pressed my forehead against the cold floor and let the guilt swallow me whole.

Somewhere in the haze of that night, desperation clawed its way up my throat. I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years.

Don Sebastian answered on the second ring.

"Samuel," he said, voice sharp and suspicious.

"Don," I rasped, barely holding it together. "Please...I need your help."

There was a beat of silence. Then, wariness. "What have you done?"

"I—I broke her," I confessed, voice cracking wide open. "I destroyed the only good thing I ever had. She won't talk to me. She shouldn't even look at me."

Another pause, colder this time.

"Marcello tried to tell you," Sebastian said, his voice colder than ice.

"I know," I choked out. "I know."

The tears burned hot in my eyes but I didn’t wipe them away. I let them fall, let them baptize the stone floor I wasn't worthy to kneel on.

"Please," I begged, desperation cracking me open. "Send Dr. Mya. Bring her here. She's the only one who ever reached her before. Maybe... maybe she can reach her again."

There was a heavy silence on the other end, one that vibrated with more knowledge than I was ready for.

"You think I don't know what's been happening under my roof?" Sebastian said at last, voice sharp and merciless. "Marcello’s been reporting to me daily since I put him on punishment. I've known every bruise, every silence, every damn breath you’ve stolen from that girl."

I swallowed hard, the truth slicing deeper than any blade.

"I'm not asking for myself," I whispered, voice breaking apart. "I'm asking for her. She deserves someone fighting for her the right way."

"Dr. Mya is my wife," Sebastian said quietly, dangerously. "And Nina’s best friend, even if they barely speak now. You don't deserve either of their mercy."

"I know," I rasped. "Please."

Another pause—then finally, a grudging exhale.

"Mya will be on a flight within the hour," he said. "For Nina. Not for you."