Chapter 5 A Cursed Fate
Lorenzo went still.
A slow, burning pressure started behind his eyes. A sharp ache bloomed in his temples as he pressed his fingers against them, trying to calm the storm ripping through his chest.
“She’s modest. Simple. What the hell is she doing at a place like that— alone —at this hour?” His voice cracked with rage. “She probably doesn’t even know what a bar looks like. What the hell is she thinking?!”
***
The Blue Orchid Bar buzzed with neon lights and booming bass, its glow spilling onto the streets like spilled champagne. The music pulsed through the air, loud and untamed, shaking the glass walls that framed the upscale downtown lounge.
The VIP area overlooked the stage below—an elevated platform wrapped in white light where people swayed and danced, lost in the rhythm. Curved couches and glass tables dotted the private section, each booth spaced just enough for seclusion but still giving a clear view of the party below.
Krystal sat at one of those tables, her dress shimmering under the LED lights.
Darren lounged beside her, and across the booth were familiar faces—Jane, Stella, and Sienna.
They were friends she used to meet often, before marriage pulled her away.
Tonight, for the first time in what felt like forever, she was free.
No duties. No expectations. Just herself.
“Damion and Kara said sorry,” Jane said, leaning in with a faint smile. “They couldn’t make it.”
“But don’t worry,” Sienna grinned, grabbing a shot glass and throwing it back with ease. “We’ll replace them just fine. You’re not missing anything tonight. Their loss.”
“It’s been forever,” Stella added, wrapping an arm around Krystal’s shoulder. “You disappeared on us. No calls, no texts. What happened? Are we doing that again?”
“I doubt it,” Darren snickered, clinking glasses with Jane. “No point hiding her dirty little secret anymore.”
Krystal shot him a glare sharp enough to slice the air. Darren’s smirk vanished as he clumsily set his drink down.
“It’s not a dirty secret,” she mumbled, sighing heavily. She reached for the shot in front of her, gulped it down, and winced as it burned its way down. “Okay. Fine. I need to be a little drunk for this.”
And just like that, the night shifted. Krystal slowly unraveled the truth she’d locked inside for two years.
She spoke between drinks—about the promise to Lorenzo’s grandfather, the quiet sacrifices, the loneliness, and everything she had endured under the same roof as the man who probably didn’t even remember her anymore.
“I mean, not even the maids would serve him three hot meals a day in freezing snow, but I did,” she muttered, eyebrows furrowed, anger slipping into her voice. “Ungrateful pig!”
She downed another shot with trembling hands. “If it weren’t for treating his hands, I would’ve never been dumb enough to play nursemaid to a man like him.”
Sienna rubbed her back gently. “Doesn’t matter now. You’re out of it. A divorce party is long overdue—we’re throwing a huge one.”
“Hell yes,” Krystal mumbled with a half-laugh.
Jane slid another shot toward her. “Drink all you want. No one’s watching over you now.” She winked.
Krystal laughed, feeling her shoulders relax for the first time in years. “You know what?” she said loudly, standing on shaky feet, arms out. “This—this right here—is what I’ve been craving. Freedom! ”
She stumbled, catching the edge of the table.
“Holy shit, I need to pee,” she whispered with a wobbly laugh.
“I’ll come with—” Stella started, but Krystal waved her off.
“Nah. It’s just a few steps away. I’ll be fine. Stay here. Get drunk. I want all of you hammered by the time I’m back.”
“Go, come back soon,” Jane called, already pouring another round.
Krystal giggled and made her way downstairs, feet unsteady. She remembered spotting a restroom sign near one of the side corridors. The hallway was dimmer and quieter—a stark contrast to the thumping music behind her.
“This place has changed so much,” she murmured, her eyes drifting over the sleek, unfamiliar walls as she stepped forward.
Then—bam.
She collided with something solid. Hard.
She stumbled back, blinking in stunned confusion, and then froze.
Lorenzo was standing right in front of her. Tall and strong. His eyes were dark and full of anger. The way his jaw was tight and the fire in his eyes made her heart skip.
She gasped, turning to run, but his hand shot out and blocked her path. She tried to slip under the arm he raised against the wall, but he was too quick.
He grabbed her shoulders and spun her back, pressing her against the wall, caging her between the cold surface and his tall frame.
“Are you really just going to ignore me now?” he said sharply. “Look away every time we cross paths?”
Krystal sighed in defeat, her buzz dimming as the irritation crept in.
‘Shit. What’s this Cactus doing here?’
She forced a grin. “Hi,” she said as if this was the most casual run-in of her life. “How are you? Your arm alright? How’s your health, by the way?”
Wrong move.
The flicker of rage behind his eyes erupted into full-on fury.
He stepped back just enough to glare around the hallway, voice dropping into a growl.
“Do you even know how long I’ve been looking for you? Where the hell were you?” Then he narrowed his eyes, his voice laced with venom. “And what are you doing here in a damn bar?”
Krystal hesitated, her mind spinning as excuses raced through her head. Her body tensed, heart pounding.
Then she nodded, murmuring under her breath, barely audible even to herself, "After leaving you… now that I’m living without you. I’m just here—"
She faltered, thinking fast, her eyes darting to the side. “I’m working here,” she said quickly.
Lorenzo’s eyes scanned her from head to toe, sharp like a blade. The short, sleeveless dress clung to her body, showing off curves she had always hidden during their marriage. A lot of makeup framed her face, every detail polished and perfect. Her lipstick too red. Her hair styled in soft waves.
Full makeup. Hair done. Skin glowing. Eyes alive—but not for him.
The sight alone made his jaw tighten.
“Working?” he asked, voice low and restrained, like it was taking everything in him not to explode. “Dressed like this?”
Suddenly, he stepped in, closing the distance between them. His hand gripped her arm, and his face dipped into the curve of her neck. She froze. Every nerve in her body lit up, burning from the heat of his breath against her skin.
Krystal froze, her breath caught mid-thought. His nose brushed her skin, and it burned, like fire licking through her veins. The alcohol in her system only magnified the feeling, heightened everything. Her senses spun out of control.
Just as quickly, he pulled back. But he didn’t move away. He stayed planted—so close she could see every fleck of gold in his eyes, every twitch in his jaw.
"You’ve been drinking?" he asked, his voice colder now. "Your job makes you drink? What kind of damn job makes a woman dress like this and get drunk in a bar?"
Her eyes flew up to meet his, wide with disbelief and hurt. “So what if I was drinking? So what if I dressed like this? You think I’m some kind of escort?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t flinch. Just tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing into something unreadable. That cold, calculating stare—it paralyzed her. Made her feel small.
She quickly looked away, muttering under her breath.
"I mean... yeah," she muttered, instantly shrinking back. "I have to drink sometimes for work. I'm not some rich wife anymore."
She yanked her arm free, stepping back like a wounded animal gathering strength, and added with a soft, worn-out voice—the same tone she used with him during their last years together.
“I’m working as a model for a photographer. I have to do whatever I can to survive now. I can’t say no when they ask me to have drinks.”
Lorenzo’s expression darkened—thunder in human form. His jaw clenched, and a curse slipped between his teeth.
He turned away like trying to hold back the explosion, only to whip back around, eyes burning.
“I offered you a hundred million in alimony," he snapped. "It’s still on the table. Take it. You’ll need it to live.”
She shook her head gently.
“It was enough that I got to be with you for two years,” she said, a sad little smile tugging at her lips. Her voice softened. “I won’t take any more money from you. And don’t worry. I won’t come between you and Esther. Let’s just… keep our distance.”
She turned to leave, her face shifting into quiet relief the moment she faced away from him. She started walking fast, desperate to get out of there.
Lorenzo instinctively reached out, his fingers brushing the air where her hand had just been.
He stood frozen in place, jaw clenched, his broad chest rising and falling with restrained rage. He hadn’t told her to leave the house. He never once mentioned cutting her off. The idea of her walking away with nothing—no money, no safety net—made his blood boil.
But she was always like this. Stubborn, so damn reckless, and hell-bent on driving him mad.
Krystal clutched her chest as she ducked into the crowd, a grin tugging at her lips and a sigh escaping her lungs. Her eyes sparkled with relief.
‘That should be enough to keep Cactus away for good,’ she thought, chuckling under her breath. ‘No man wants a financial burden when he’s trying to make his new woman happy.’
The sharp ache in her chest still lingered, but it was nothing compared to the pain she'd already endured.
Meanwhile, Darren had stepped out of the VIP lounge, concern etched into his face. She’d been gone too long. People were starting to ask questions.
They collided near the hallway.
“Where the hell did you go?” Darren asked, grabbing her shoulders gently. “It’s been forever. Everyone thought you passed out in the bathroom or something.”