Chapter 7 Faking It #2
Esther stood frozen, helplessly watching him walk away with that woman. Her fists clenched by her sides as her chest tightened with frustration.
“Is Lorenzo really in love with her?” she whispered under her breath, shifting on her feet, agitated.
***
“She’s going to be fine,” the doctor said as he stepped back from Krystal, having just taped a dressing over her cheek. “It’s just a surface cut. Nothing serious.”
He packed up his kit and left the room. Krystal turned her face slightly, her voice soft. “You should go back now,” she said. “Esther must be waiting for you.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened at her words. His teeth ground together, but he kept his temper on a leash. His gaze sharpened as he looked at her.
“Why did you come home today without telling me?”
“I told you,” she replied quietly. “I needed clothes. I didn’t have any.”
“You’re lying.” He took a step closer, his voice deadly calm as his eyes searched hers.
She stiffened, panic rising in her chest. ‘Does he know? Has he figured out I’m Astra?’
He leaned in, his face inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her skin, his scent wrapping around her like a noose.
“You didn’t even take the hundred million dollars I offered you, Krystal,” he murmured, his voice dark. “But now you come back for clothes? You really expect me to believe that?”
Her fingers curled into the bedsheet beneath her. A beat later, she placed her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. Standing up, she glanced at him and spoke softly.
“Actually, I came to go to the court with you. To finalize the divorce. I didn’t expect Esther to be there.”
His jaw clenched so tight, the veins in his neck stood out.
“You’re in such a hurry to divorce me now?” he asked, voice gravelly with anger.
She blinked, thrown off, brows furrowed in confusion. “Wasn’t it you who proposed the divorce?”
The glare he gave her turned from cold to absolutely lethal. He looked away, seething, his chest rising and falling with restrained rage. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Xander rushed into the room, breathless.
“Mr. Moretti, I—”
Xander froze as soon as he sensed the tension crackling in the air. His eyes flicked from Lorenzo to Krystal and back, panic creeping onto his face.
“I—I’ll come back later,” he stammered, already retreating.
Lorenzo shut his eyes briefly and let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Get back in here. Speak.”
Xander hesitated, then stepped forward awkwardly. “Sorry for the interruption. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“What’s the matter?” Lorenzo demanded, his voice like ice.
They both stepped out of the room. Krystal moved quickly, pressing herself against the wall behind the door to eavesdrop.
“Mr. Moretti,” Xander began, lowering his voice, “Astra disappeared from the house. There’s no trace of her. The guards searched everywhere, but she’s completely vanished. No sign of her.”
Lorenzo’s voice turned into a furious growl. “She really thinks I’m a fucking joke? Took an outrageous sum from me, and then had the nerve to sneak into my house and try to kill Esther?”
He straightened, his entire body tensing with rage.
“Get every man on it. Hunt her down. I want her in front of me!”
Silence followed. The sound of retreating footsteps echoed faintly as they walked away.
Krystal’s fingers curled tightly into her palm. Her chest ached, even though she tried to suppress it. ‘He really loves Esther,’ she thought bitterly. Her stomach turned. ‘He’s ready to turn the world upside down for that woman. How loving.’
Suddenly, the door slammed open.
She jumped with a startled scream.
But it wasn’t Lorenzo. It was Darren.
He barged in, looking around in a panic.
“Oh my fucking god,” Krystal exhaled in relief, stepping out from behind the door.
Darren’s eyes widened. “What the hell happened?” His gaze locked onto the bandage on her cheek, panic rising. “I saw him carry you into the car—your face was covered in blood. I followed you guys here.”
She peeked past him, scanning the hallway. “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. He and that guard of his went storming off somewhere, talking like they were planning a war.”
Krystal pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm herself, then turned to Darren. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, gesturing to her injury. “Esther tried to hit me with a vase.”
“What the hell?!” Darren snapped. “Didn’t you go there to treat her illness?”
“That’s the thing.” Krystal rolled her eyes. “She’s not sick. She’s been taking pills that cause blood clots to fake a condition. She even tried to pay me to keep quiet about it. I refused, so she flipped the script and tried to frame me.”
Darren’s brows furrowed with anger.
"I always wondered why there was such a huge reward for just a little illness," he muttered. "Now I get it. Turns out, there’s a reason no one can cure it.
“It’s risky to stay here now,” she whispered urgently, stepping closer to Darren. “Esther told Lorenzo I was just a fake doctor —and now he’s hunting me down across the entire damn city. I can’t stay in Manhattan anymore. We need to leave.”
“We’ve got money now.” Darren gave a quick nod. “He already paid us half in advance. That’s enough to get out and go wherever you want.”
“Great. Cash it in.” She looked around, her voice lower. “Tomorrow is Grandpa’s retirement party. I need you to prepare a gift for me. Right after the party, I’ll finalize the divorce with Lorenzo, and we leave.”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Darren said, already turning to walk away when she grabbed his arm.
“Keep an eye on Esther,” she said, her voice sharp. “Make sure she doesn’t pull anything again and try to blame it on me.”
“Got it.” Darren gave a short nod and started walking with her.
“You’re not staying? You’re not waiting for him to come back?” he asked, noticing her keeping pace beside him.
“Am I out of my mind?” She raised a brow. “Why would I wait for him?”
Darren chuckled under his breath, and within five minutes, the two of them had slipped out of the hospital unnoticed.
***
The car slowed to a stop in front of the Moretti mansion.
The estate was decorated lavishly. Music echoed from the house, a lively garden party unfolding in the backyard.
Guests flocked to tables set with food and drinks, laughter mingling with the soft clinking of glasses.
The long driveway snaked through the lush gardens, bringing them closer to the towering mansion lit up for Grayson Moretti’s retirement celebration.
Lorenzo stepped out first. His navy blue suit hugged his broad shoulders. He walked over to the passenger side and opened the door, offering his hand.
Krystal took it and stepped out carefully, holding up the hem of her gown. It was one she already had—something she’d taken from his house long ago. She hadn’t bought anything new on purpose, not wanting to raise suspicion that she had money.
Lorenzo didn’t hide his displeasure. The moment he had picked her up from a crowded downtown street, he had frowned and muttered, “I’ll take you shopping. You need new clothes?”
“I’m fine,” she had said quietly, climbing into the car without another word.
The drive to the mansion had been silent. Unusually silent.
Back then, when they used to ride together, Krystal did most of the talking.
He listened—rarely interrupting, barely replying—but his eyes had always stayed on her, and his quiet presence had felt enough.
He’d just listen in silence, maybe with a small smile, but he never really started the conversation. Unless it was important.
But this time, neither of them spoke. Now, with her quiet too, the silence sat like a weight in the car. Lorenzo’s grip on the steering wheel was tight. His eyes didn’t leave the road once.
She didn’t understand what he was so pissed off about—she hadn’t said a word the entire drive.
Eventually, she gave up trying to figure him out.
As they reached the mansion, she began walking ahead, only to have Lorenzo suddenly step in front of her, blocking her path. She stopped short and looked up at him with a questioning gaze.
“You know what you have to do today, right?” he asked, voice low but firm. He looked handsome in a color she had never seen him wear before. Broad chest and shoulders filling the suit out like it was tailored to his temper.
She nodded, adjusting the hem of her dress to keep it from dragging. “I know, Lorenzo. Don’t worry. I won’t let Grandpa find out about the divorce.”
He froze. That look—tight jaw, narrowed eyes—came back with full force.
‘Now what?’ she thought, already annoyed and on edge.
“You don’t call me ‘baby’ anymore,” he muttered, taking a deep breath, hands in his pockets. His head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing with irritation. “You slipped into your role as a soon-to-be ex-wife pretty fast, didn’t you?”
Krystal blinked up at him, expression calm, voice polite. “Thank you.”
His fists clenched at his sides, like he was holding himself back from grabbing her. Her innocence—real or not—only made it worse.