Chapter 19 Giving Up
Krystal’s jaw clenched. She let go of the suitcase, one hand now resting on her waist as she took a long breath. “Whatever happened between us has nothing to do with Damion. Don’t drag him into this.”
"You’re really concerned about him, aren’t you?" His voice was sharp and biting.
There was a pause, a harsh breath. “Send me your address. I’m coming to you.”
Krystal turned away, tense. Her heart started racing, and her voice came out firm, even though her fingers trembled. “No. It’s not convenient. Let’s meet tomorrow.”
There was a dangerous pause on the line.
“Krystal Moretti,” he said, his voice dropping into a deadly calm. “Send me your fucking address right now, or I’ll use my own ways to drag you out of that goddamn house."
Krystal shuddered. He was angry. Really angry.
“I’ll text it,” she said coldly, even though her legs felt like jelly.
The line fell silent for a beat. A notification buzzed on Lorenzo’s phone screen. Seeing her address pop up in the message, he ended the call without another word.
He turned sharply and strode back into Damion’s office at Bristen Hospital. The room was chaotic—six men were holding Damion down in a chair, restraining him.
As soon as Lorenzo stepped in, Damion broke free just enough to lunge forward. His hand slammed against Lorenzo’s chest, shoving him back against the wall.
Lorenzo didn’t even flinch.
Damion snatched the phone from Lorenzo’s hand, snarling, face inches away, “You pull this kind of stunt again, and I swear—you won’t walk out of this building on your own goddamn legs.”
Lorenzo’s expression didn’t change.
Unfazed, he stepped forward, gripped Damion’s shoulders, and shoved him back with brute strength. His eyes burned straight through him. “How much do you really know about Krystal?”
Did this man know Krystal was Astra?
Had Krystal hidden everything from him but not from this man?
It lit something in Lorenzo’s chest. A fire. A betrayal that didn’t even have a name.
Damion stepped back, staring him down. "I know you’re her ex-husband. That you were with her for two years. And that you dumped her for another woman."
Lorenzo’s stare could burn through steel. But Damion didn’t waver.
His voice was icy, laced with quiet accusation. “About everything else, I shouldn’t know more than her husband, right? More than the man who lived with her twenty-four seven?”
Lorenzo’s stare darkened, but Damion didn’t back down. Lorenzo’s glare had silenced boardrooms and broken men. But not this guy.
“You knew her even before we divorced, didn’t you?” Lorenzo said, his voice low and sharp. “So don’t tell me you didn’t know more about her than I ever did. That counts as knowing more than me, doesn’t it?”
Damion let out a dark, mocking laugh. “Knowing someone in secret is still better than eating from a plate and still eyeing someone else’s bowl like you.”
Lorenzo stepped forward, ready to tear into him, but Xander rushed in between them.
“Mr. Moretti—wait. Wait.” He held a hand out. “Let’s find Mrs. Moretti before we lose her again.”
Lorenzo’s fists clenched. His jaw ticked in painful restraint before he finally tore his gaze away from Damion and stormed out, Xander close behind.
***
Krystal walked back into the apartment and dropped onto the couch, the suitcase hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
Darren rushed in. “What happened?”
“That damn Cactus!” she screamed, jumping to her feet. “Oh my fucking God!” Her voice cracked with fury as she threw a pillow across the room and knocked over a lamp.
Darren muttered, “So... we’re not leaving?”
“No, we’re not leaving,” she snapped. “That son of a bitch—he’s got Damion. He’s using him to blackmail me. I can’t just disappear. I have no choice but to face him.”
She turned to him, voice firmer. "You need to leave the apartment. I need to talk to him alone."
"Why don’t I stay? In case he gets out of hand?"
Krystal shook her head, drawing in a shaky breath. “He won’t hurt me. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
***
An hour later, the black Rolls-Royce rolled to a stop in front of Krystal’s apartment building. Lorenzo stepped out before the driver could even open the door, the door slamming behind him with force.
Across the street, he saw her.
Krystal stood with her arms folded, her hair and clothes rustling in the cold night wind. The streetlight lit up her pale face and stiff posture.
A man walking by slowed down and turned. His gaze swept over her, and he changed direction, heading straight toward her.
“Hey,” the stranger greeted with a grin. “Can I get your number?”
“Hey,” the stranger greeted with a grin. “Can I get your number?”
Lorenzo’s jaw twitched.
“Number?” he muttered. “She picked me to be her husband. Do you even come close to me?” He let out a dark, mocking laugh.
With a sharp shrug, Lorenzo crossed the street.
Once beside her, he slipped an arm around her waist and looked the man in the eye.
“Do you really think you stand a chance against me?” His brow rose, lips curling with disdain.
Flustered, the man glanced between them and quickly backed away without a word.
Once he was gone, Lorenzo turned to her, his eyes sharp. “You’re really good at attracting bees, aren’t you?”
She pushed his arm off with a glare. "So? What exactly do you want from me?"
His eyes turned to slits, dark and angry. Without a word, he grabbed her wrist and started pulling her along.
"Hey!"
He didn’t slow down.
They reached the building, got into the elevator, and he slammed the button for the fifth floor.
The silence inside the elevator was suffocating.
Krystal twisted her wrist, trying to pull away from his grip, but the man didn’t budge. His hold was ironclad.
Without a word, Lorenzo dragged her down the hallway, stopping in front of her apartment.
“Open it,” he ordered.
“Let’s just talk out here.”
“Open the goddamn door, Krystal.”
She bit her lip, hesitated, then finally pressed her thumb against the scanner. The door unlocked with a quiet click, and she stepped inside. He followed immediately.
Lorenzo brushed past her, eyes scanning the place like he was trying to read through the walls. Cold and calculating. Distrust flickered in his gaze.
‘Last time she gave me a fake address. Is she playing me again?’
He strode into the living room, then made a beeline to one of the bedrooms.
“Lorenzo!” she snapped, following after him.
But he ignored her voice completely. He walked into the room, eyes darting to the clothes scattered around, the framed photos, the worn books on the nightstand. Her life was here—tangible, lived-in. Not staged.
Something inside him settled… barely.
Then, slowly, he turned to her. His gaze was sharp enough to cut glass, and she instinctively took a step back.
“Astra?” he said, advancing toward her, step by step.
She flinched at the name.
“A physician. Medical degrees. International awards?” He let out a dry, bitter laugh. “You think I’m not losing my mind already? How many more things have you kept from me?”
His voice was rough, the kind that came from too many nights spent sleepless and burning inside. Krystal felt the anger swirl in the air like a storm, her heart pounded, but still, she stood her ground, clenching her fists.
“It’s not like you ever cared to know me,” she snapped. “We were married for two years. You never touched me. You barely came home. And now that we’re divorced, you suddenly care? Isn’t it a bit too late for that?”
His face twisted in fury, jaw clenched so tight she could hear his teeth grind. He barked, “Don’t you know why I never came home often?”
“How the hell would I know?!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “I’m not a mind reader!”
He exploded. “Because I couldn’t control myself around you!”
She blinked. “Control yourself? Control what?”
His lips pressed into a tight line, ears tinged red as he looked away, trying to hide the flicker of embarrassment.
She narrowed hers. “You don’t even have to say it. It’s because of Esther, right? You couldn’t stop thinking about her. That’s why you avoided me.”
His entire body went still. His eyes burned into hers, his hand twitching at his side like he was holding back from grabbing her.
“How the fuck did you come to that conclusion?” he growled.
Krystal stared at him in disbelief. “So what else? You’re telling me you were sleeping with her while thinking about me?”
He closed the space between them in two strides, barely a breath of space between them. His voice was ice and fire at once.
“Is that really the kind of man you think I am?”
“Yes,” she whispered, eyes burning. “That’s exactly who you are. And I hate myself for loving you. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”
The second the words left her mouth, whatever restraint Lorenzo had been clinging to snapped.
She turned to storm off but his hand caught her wrist and yanked her back.
She fell onto the bed, breath catching, but before she could move, he was there. Towering over her. Climbing after her.
His mouth crashed down onto hers, rough, frantic, bruising.
Lorenzo kissed her like he was punishing her.
Like he hated her for pulling away. Like he hated himself for needing her this much.
His hand gripped her jaw, tilting her face as his tongue forced its way past her lips, claiming her mouth with raw desperation.
His other hand clutched her waist, dragging her closer, pinning her in place.
Krystal gasped against him, struggling but his mouth moved with such fire, such madness, it made her head spin. His teeth grazed her lower lip, biting down just enough to make her whimper before he devoured her again.
She pushed at his chest with both hands. “Don’t—” she choked out between ragged breaths. “Don’t do that, Lorenzo. Please.”
He pulled back only an inch, breathing hard. His eyes were wild, dark with something between pain and obsession.
But then he gripped her face with both hands and kissed her again, slamming his mouth back onto hers before she could stop him.