Chapter 28 Repay A Favor
There was a pause on the other end. Then Krystal’s voice, cautious and flat, came through. “Why do you sound like that? Are you drunk again?”
“I’m not drunk,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges. “Please… come down, baby.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Her voice turned sharp, cold enough to slice through him. “We’re not at that stage of meeting whenever, wherever anymore, Mr. Moretti. We’re divorced. And please stop calling me ‘baby.’”
She said it like it tasted bitter now.
He sat there in silence for a beat. Then calmly, “If you don’t come down, I’ll shout your name from down here. I’ll wake the whole damn building if I have to.”
Krystal’s sigh came through, exasperated. Then a pause. “Where exactly are you?”
“Right outside your building,” he said. “Just come down.”
“Alright. Wait for me.”
A few minutes later, Krystal stormed out of the apartment building, barefoot, in a short satin nightdress that clung to her body and stopped teasingly at her thighs. Her hair was messy, her eyes filled with annoyance and disbelief.
She spotted him sitting on the stairs, elbows resting on his knees. He rose slowly when she neared, eyes narrowing slightly at how little she was wearing, before meeting her eyes.
“What are you doing here, Lorenzo?” she demanded, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I told you—stop showing up at my place at ungodly hours.”
His voice was even, but there was something dangerously silent in his eyes. “I bought the apartment across from yours.”
She stared at him, lips parting in disbelief. “You what ?”
“I wanted to be close to you,” he said simply.
Krystal let out a bitter laugh. “You’ve lost your mind.”
He reached out to touch her arm, but she stepped back, hand raised. “If you don’t have anything better to do, then go home. Don’t keep haunting me like this—it’s not fair.”
“Baby—”
“Let go,” she snapped, yanking her wrist free. “And stop calling me that. I don’t want to hear it.”
It used to melt her heart, that word. Now it scraped at old wounds.
She had spent months trying to grow out of the love that once consumed her—trying to leave behind the version of herself that waited for Lorenzo.
But every time he showed up, he pulled her back into a world she no longer wanted to live in.
His voice dropped, husky and soft. “Can we get married again?”
Her heart skipped. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right.
“What?” she breathed, her voice cracking. “Are you kidding me?”
“I mean it,” he said, his eyes locked on hers, expression pleading, raw. “Let’s get married again.”
At once, anger surged through her like a wildfire. Her spine stiffened, every muscle locking into tension. Krystal spun around to face him fully, her eyes fierce.
“Lorenzo, look at me. I’m not Esther. I’m Krystal!”
He didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer, gently cupping her hands in his larger, calloused ones. His touch was warm, trembling faintly, like he was holding onto something fragile.
“I want to marry you again,” he said softly. “Let me do it right this time. Let me date you properly. Let me love you the way you deserved from the start.”
Her patience snapped like a wire under strain.
“Are you messing with me right now?” Her voice shook, not with fear, but with pent-up hurt that had no place left to hide.
“I’m not,” he said firmly, his grip on her hands tightening just slightly.
Her expression hardened. “Let me make this very clear, Mr. Moretti. Even if you do a million things for me, it’s not going to happen. You’re a busy man. You should stop wasting your time chasing someone like me. Now please, let go.”
She wrenched her hands free and turned away, her bare feet padding across the pavement, each step fast, angry. But before she could reach the door, his voice cut through the silence.
“I’m not busy for you. I never was.”
Krystal halted mid-step. Her shoulders rose and fell as she sucked in a shaky breath. Then, slowly, she turned back, her voice laced with fire. “Have you forgotten that you’re in love with Esther? Stop playing games with me, Lorenzo. I’m begging you.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. “Who told you I loved her? You were never anything less than my wife. Even when she was around.”
She blinked, stunned. “What… what did you just say?”
“I married you because I wanted to,” he said softly. “From the moment I saw you I was drawn to you. No one forced me—not my grandfather, not anyone. I chose you. I’ve always wanted you. From the very first day we became husband and wife.”
Krystal’s breath caught. She stared at him like she didn’t recognize the man in front of her. Lorenzo Moretti—the guarded, cold-hearted man who never let anyone in—was now peeling himself open, right there on the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, just for her.
Then his voice lowered, gentle but edged with pain. “Tell me something, Krystal… did you only marry me to repay my grandpa’s favor? Was I never anything more to you?”
Her body went still. She swallowed hard. “You… you know about that?”
“Answer me,” he whispered, stepping closer. “Please, Krystal. I’m dying here.”
Her voice came out small. Fragile. “I fell in love with you. But it was clear you didn’t feel the same. You married me because your grandfather wanted you to. I was just… convenient. I was never anything more to you.”
Lorenzo stepped in instantly, his hand rising to her face, cupping her cheek tenderly. His thumb brushed her skin in slow, delicate strokes, like he was touching something sacred.
“That’s not true,” he said urgently, his voice rushed and rising. “I thought I owed Esther. I thought she was the one I’d slept with when I was drugged, two years ago. She said she got hurt because of me. I felt guilty. I thought I’d ruined her life.”
His brows pulled together, pain flickering in his eyes. “But it was you, wasn’t it? That night—it wasn’t Esther. It was you I slept with. Why didn’t you tell me the truth back then?”
Krystal’s lips parted in confusion. “What was there to tell? I thought you didn’t even remember that night…”
He exhaled sharply, eyes darkening with frustration. “Esther claimed she was the woman I slept with. I believed her. And you never told me it was you. You never told me we’d met long before Grandpa ever got involved.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She stood there, stunned, heart pounding against her ribs. The way he looked at her—with that rare mix of vulnerability and desperation—it made her heart twist painfully.
Finally, she bit her lip, gathering the courage to speak. Her voice trembled. “I didn’t know at first. Not until… the night we stayed at the hotel. After we slept together.” She hesitated, her eyes dropping. “That night, I recognized you. You were the man from two years ago.”
Her breath hitched. “I was drugged that night too. I didn’t see your face before I left.”
She looked away, her arms wrapping around herself.
“When I realized it was you,” Krystal whispered, her voice raw, “I didn’t know how to tell you. You were already in love with Esther. What was there for me to explain?”
She took a step back, pulling away, but Lorenzo’s hand slid from her cheek to the back of her head, guiding her closer, refusing to let her go.
“Krystal,” he said quickly, eyes burning into hers, “I was never in love with her. It was guilt. That’s all it ever was. I thought I’d ruined someone’s life. I felt responsible—not in love.”
She stared at him, stunned. Her chest rose and fell sharply, her thoughts a blur of confusion and buried pain. She gave a short nod, almost numb, and turned to leave again—overwhelmed, too full to speak.
But Lorenzo wasn’t done. His hand closed around her wrist, and before she could react, he spun her around. Her back hit the side of his car with a soft thud, his body closing in, caging hers in place. Not forcefully—but close enough for her heart to race.
His voice dropped, softer now, rich with emotion. “There were too many secrets between us. I screwed it all up. And I am at fault for not giving you what you deserved when we were married. But please, baby…”
His hand gently cupped her jaw again, thumb stroking her skin with a touch so tender it broke her breath.
“Marry me again. Let me do it right this time.”
He leaned in—close enough for her to feel his breath on her lips, warm and shaky. His mouth hovered over hers, just barely not kissing her.
“I’ll be a real husband. I’ll love you the way you should’ve been loved. I already do.”
Krystal blinked up at him, speechless. “Do you even realize what you’re saying?”
“I do,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers. “When I married you two years ago, I never planned to divorce you—not even once. But I couldn’t drag you into my mess until I’d cut ties with Esther completely. I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t realize I was only hurting you.”
Her brows pulled together, the words sinking in. “So now what?” she asked quietly. “You feel guilty about me?”
Lorenzo’s arm around her waist tightened, his fingers brushing slowly over the silk of her nightdress, tender, loving. He leaned in, his lips grazing her cheek, his breath hot against her skin, so close to her ear it made her shiver.
“It’s not guilt,” he said quietly. “I love you. No one knows the difference between love and guilt better than I do.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, to make her see every inch of the truth in his eyes.
“I’ll prove it,” he said. “I’ll chase you if I have to. I’ll marry you again. Just give me the chance.”
Krystal’s lips curled slightly, as if trying to hold back a smile. Her eyes softened just a little.
Seeing it, he panicked—thinking she didn’t believe him.
Without thinking, he gripped the back of her head gently but firmly, tilting it up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes searched hers with desperation.
“I’m serious,” he said, voice deep and urgent. “I’ve never been against this marriage. I saw everything you did for me—every damn thing.”