Chapter 4 Where Are You #2
Across town, Krystal hurled the phone onto the couch like it had burned her skin. Her face had drained of all color, pale as a ghost under the kitchen lights. She stumbled back a few steps, gasping, her hands flying to her chest as if trying to keep her heart from pounding out of her ribs.
Darren jumped, flinching at the sudden burst of panic. “What the hell happened?”
Krystal didn’t answer right away. She stood frozen, staring at the phone like it might come alive and bite her.
Horror twisted her features, her lips trembling as she whispered, “Why is that damn Cactus haunting me like a ghost?” Her voice cracked.
“I barely saw him when we were married. He was always cold, distant, busy. And now? He’s everywhere.
Everywhere I go, he shows up like he’s under my skin. ”
She backed up until her hand found the edge of a kitchen counter, gripping it for support as her knees weakened. “What the hell is going on? He’s like a damn ghost!”
Darren narrowed his eyes, still trying to catch up. “Are you sure it was him? That call lasted, like, a second.”
“I’d know that voice anywhere,” she said through clenched teeth, her eyes wide with panic. “It was Lorenzo. I panicked and hung up so fast... but he’ll already be suspicious.”
And as if summoned by her fear, the phone lit up again.
The screen glowed from where it lay on the couch, vibrating with an incoming call.
Krystal flinched hard, her hand snapping to her mouth as she bit down on a fingernail. Her entire body was coiled like a spring, tension humming in every muscle.
Darren glanced between her and the phone. “Should I answer it or not? If it’s him, he’s not letting this go.”
Krystal stood straighter, forcing a breath down her throat.
“I messed up by calling him. Now that he’s got my number, he’s going to track me down no matter what.
There’s no point hiding anymore.” She looked over at Darren with steel in her eyes.
“If he’s gonna find me, we’re damn well getting paid for it. ”
A deep breath. One last beat of silence. Then:
“Ask him for two hundred million,” she said, eyes firm. “That’s the new price.”
***
Back at the Moretti house, Lorenzo stared down at his phone, brows drawn together in a hard line. His voice dropped to a murmur.
“Was that… Krystal?” he muttered to himself. “Why would she say she’s Doctor Astra?”
Xander leaned in slightly, uncertain. “Sir, are you sure it was her? If that was really Doctor Astra, then—how could it be Mrs. Moretti?”
Lorenzo didn’t answer immediately. His jaw worked as he clenched his teeth. He was used to hearing her voice. He could recognize it in a crowd, in his sleep. The way she spoke, the rhythm in her words, even the breath before she talked.
Then, his phone buzzed with a new text. He clicked it open and read the message.
‘I will accept your patient. My fee is two hundred million dollars.’
Lorenzo’s eyes darkened. His jaw clenched. Without a word, he tossed the phone to Xander, who caught it mid-air. He read the text and then looked up, eyebrows rising.
“They’re robbing you blind, Mr. Moretti. Two hundred million? That’s insanity! Even a hundred was already too damn generous!”
Lorenzo's voice dropped an octave, cold and lethal. “If she doesn’t save Esther, I’ll bury her alive with that money. But until then—” He narrowed his eyes. “Give her what she wants. Draw up the contract.”
Xander nodded, quickly copying the number into his phone. He placed Lorenzo’s phone back on the desk and walked out of the room.
Left alone, Lorenzo dropped heavily into the chair, his gaze landing on the framed photo of Krystal sitting on his desk. His hand reached out, brushing his fingers gently over her smile frozen in time.
“That couldn’t have been her,” he muttered. “There’s no way someone like Astra is connected to Krystal.”
But his chest felt tight.
There weren’t many photos of her around the house—just the few she’d brought with her when they got married. Even fewer they’d taken together.
“Where the hell are you?” he whispered, his fingers curling around the frame.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
He snapped upright.
“She knows how to show up this late after running away for days?” Lorenzo growled, voice sharp with irritation. It could only be Krystal.
He shot up from his chair, storming out of the office. Taking the stairs two at a time, he headed straight for the front door.
His voice rang through the house as he reached for the door handle. “Vacation over, Krystal? Now you decide to come back?” he barked, his voice rough and pissed off.
But as he flung the door open, it wasn’t Krystal.
It was his grandfather—Grayson Moretti.
Whatever adrenaline had rushed through Lorenzo moments ago drained out instantly. His chest, tight with anticipation, collapsed into quiet disbelief.
“Grandpa?” he muttered, voice dipping low. “What are you doing here this late? You should’ve called.”
Grayson waved a dismissive hand and stepped past him with a scoff.
“Why the hell should I call before coming to my own grandson’s house?
” Grayson snapped, brushing past him and stepping inside.
He raised his voice, looking around like he owned the place.
“And I didn’t come here for you anyway. Where’s my precious granddaughter-in-law?
Krystal?” His voice boomed through the halls. “Krystal, Grandpa’s here to see you!”
Lorenzo shut his eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before following him inside.
“She’s not here,” he finally said, his tone clipped.
Grayson stopped and turned sharply, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. “She’s not home? At this hour? Where is she?”
Lorenzo stayed quiet, jaw tightening.
“Did you fight with her again?” Grayson’s voice grew louder. “Why the hell do you keep upsetting her? She is so nice, and you still can’t treat her right!”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“You married her and now you're acting like this?” Grayson snapped, his voice shaking with anger. “She deserves to be treated better. I raised you better than this. How hard is it to take care of a little woman properly?”
Lorenzo’s hands balled into fists at his sides.
‘He keeps saying this because he thinks Krystal and I have been living like a real couple since our marriage. We’ve been married for two years. Of course he’d assume that.’
“She wanted it too,” Lorenzo said flatly. “And if you hadn’t forced me to marry her in the first pla—”
“Shut up,” Grayson barked, cutting him off with a fiery glare. “I don’t care how it started. You better apologize to her. She’s a damn angel and you’re just a spoiled brat who doesn’t know how to treat a woman. You piss me off so much!”
“Grandpa, you’re my grandfather. Not hers,” Lorenzo snapped. “How can you say that about your own blood?”
“I don’t give a damn whose blood you are. Right now, you’re acting like an idiot.” Grayson raised his cane and slammed it against Lorenzo’s leg, making him flinch. “I’ve got a retirement party at my house in a few days. I want to see Krystal there. Not a damn excuse, Lorenzo. She better be there.”
Without waiting for a response, Grayson turned and walked right out the door.
“Grandpa, wait!” Lorenzo called after him, his voice edged with frustration as he moved to follow, but Grayson didn’t even glance back. He disappeared into the night, leaving Lorenzo standing in the silence of his empty house.
***
Darren raced across the backyard toward Krystal, who was sunbathing by the pool.
She lay stretched on a lounge chair, legs crossed, her white bikini gleaming under the sharp afternoon sun.
A light sheen of sweat glistened on her collarbones.
She had sunglasses on, a book resting on her flat stomach, and looked completely at peace—like the world didn’t exist beyond the warmth soaking into her skin.
He didn’t slow down. He snatched her shades right off her face.
“Hey!” she snapped upright, one hand flying up to shield her eyes from the glare. “I’m trying to relax—you’re ruining it!”
“You can afford to buy a whole freaking resort to relax in now!” Darren was practically vibrating with energy, grinning like a kid who’d just found a treasure chest. “We’re rich again! Look!”
He shoved his phone at her, the screen glowing with a notification.
“He already transferred the advance—one hundred million!”
Krystal blinked and took the phone from him, the sunlight forgotten for a moment. Her gaze scanned the digits on the screen. It was real. The money was there.
But instead of elation, something in her cracked. A sharp, cold pain stabbed through her chest, spreading like poison.
‘When it’s about Esther, he doesn’t hesitate to give anything.’
The thought cut deeper than she expected. Her excitement withered, swallowed by bitterness she didn’t want to admit.
She sat up slowly, every movement precise, graceful. Stretching her arms over her head, she let out a soft sigh, then dropped the phone back into Darren’s hand.
Darren didn’t notice. He winked, still caught in the high of it all. “So? What’s the plan with all this money? What are we doing first?”
Krystal’s lips curved into a smile, but her eyes didn’t match. They were cool. Guarded.
“We’re rich. Obviously, we’re going to party.” Her voice carried a heat that didn’t come from joy. “Call our friends. Let’s hit a bar tonight.”
Darren twirled the phone between his fingers and laughed. “Absolutely. Right away, madam!”
***
Lorenzo paced alone in his office at Velare headquarters, long after everyone else had gone home. The sprawling estate was silent—eerily so. Shadows stretched across the walls, and only the faint hum of the city in the distance reminded him that time was still moving.
He couldn’t bring himself to go home.
There was nothing to go back to.
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, dragging in a shaky breath. His chest felt crushed, like someone had wedged a steel fist between his ribs and kept tightening it with each passing hour.
He dropped down into the chair behind his desk, his movements heavy. Picked up his phone. Again. Scrolled to her name. Hit call.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
The phone slipped from his hand and hit the desk with a loud clack that echoed in the stillness. His jaw clenched. His eyes burned. He gritted his teeth and muttered into the silence:
“That stubborn, reckless woman…!”
He stood abruptly, pacing again like a caged animal, his breath coming faster now, panic close behind frustration.
“She doesn’t have friends. No family. No damn place to live. Didn’t even take the goddamn money. Where the hell did she go after walking out of here? Not even a note. Not a single damn message.”
His voice cracked, breaking with the weight of it all. He leaned on the desk, shoulders sagging, head bowed low.
“How could she just disappear like that?”
The silence stretched—until suddenly, his phone rang.
His hand flew to it like a lifeline.
“Krystal?” His heart leapt as he snatched it up, hope flashing in his eyes.
But it died just as fast when he saw the screen.
Xander Calling.
He exhaled sharply, dragging his composure back like a mask, and answered with a tight voice. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Moretti,” Xander said without preamble, “I just got a trace on Mrs. Moretti.”
Lorenzo stiffened.
The grip on his phone tightened until his knuckles turned white, his jaw locked so tight it hurt.
“Where is she?” he demanded, voice cutting like a blade.
“Sir… Mrs.—uh—she’s at a nightclub. Downtown.”