Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary CracksI threw the door open, my jaw dropping. “Camila? How did you—what are you doing here?”
My best friend pushed past me into the apartment, lugging a heavy designer duffel bag behind her, before turning around with her hands on her hips.
“How did I find you?” Camila scoffed, though her eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Helena, you left your passport tracking active on the shared family iCloud account, you dramatic idiot. Did you really think a man who tracks market fluctuations by the second wouldn't notice an unauthorized flight booking to Pernambuco?”
I closed the door slowly, leaning back against it. “He sent you.”
“No,” Camila corrected sharply, tossing her keys onto the small kitchen counter. “He didn't send me. He begged me. There is a difference. And believe me, if he had tried to order me around, I would have thrown my espresso in his face.”
I blinked, startled. “You spoke to him?”
“I spoke to a man who looked like he hadn't slept, eaten, or breathed since you walked into that elevator,” Camila said softly, her anger fading into deep concern as she walked over and took my hands. “Helena... he showed up at my apartment at three in the morning. In a rumpled shirt, without his security detail, looking like his entire empire had just collapsed. He told me about the test.”
A knot tightened in my throat. “And what did you say?”
“I told him he deserved it,” Camila replied bluntly. “I told him that for six years he starved you of affection and treated you like an ornament, and now he was reaping what he sewed. But then... he looked at me, Helena. Really looked at me. And he asked me one question that made me realize this isn't just about his pride anymore.”
I swallowed hard. “What question?”
“‘Is she safe?’” Camila repeated, her voice dropping to a whisper. “‘Is my wife and my child safe down there? Because I don't know how to protect her from myself anymore.’”
The words hung in the warm coastal air, heavy and disruptive. I pulled my hands away, walking over to the balcony doors and staring out at the dark ocean.
“He’s manipulating you, Camila,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction. “Rafael doesn't know how to feel; he only knows how to strategize. If I go back, or if I let him into this pregnancy, he will take over. He will schedule my ultrasounds, hire twenty-four-hour guards, and turn my body into another corporate asset to be managed.”
“Maybe,” Camila admitted, walking up beside me and resting a warm hand on my shoulder. “Or maybe he’s realizing that the fortress he built didn't keep the world out—it just locked you inside until you suffocated. But here’s the real question, sweetie: what are you going to do when he shows up here?”
I turned sharply. “What do you mean, when he shows up?”
Camila offered a wry, knowing smile. “Helena, do you honestly think a man worth billions who just discovered he’s going to be a father is going to sit in São Paulo and wait for divorce papers to clear? He’s probably boarding a private flight right now. If he’s not already on his way.”
Panic surged through my veins, hot and immediate. I hadn't prepared for this. I had thought distance would create a buffer, a cooling-off period where I could reclaim my identity before facing him again.
May you like
“I won't see him,” I said, my voice rising. “I’ll pack my bags again. We can go further north—to Natal, to Fortaleza, anywhere—”
“Stop running,” Camila interrupted gently, catching my face in her hands. “You can run from the penthouse, you can run from the divorce papers, but you cannot run from the fact that you are carrying his child, and deep down inside this stubborn heart of yours, you still love him. Otherwise, you wouldn't be shaking right now.”
