Chapter 67
Yuliana
“He is purposely ignoring me,” I said, pacing the living room that felt about as much like Eddie as him putting on a tutu and performing a ballet.
The dark turquoise walls, flower paintings, and gold accents mocked me with the knowledge that another woman designed this room. There was no universe where he had picked this palette himself. At least, not willingly.
“What did you expect?” Vlad asked.
The glare I shot him was sharp enough to draw blood if it had been a knife.
“I don’t know. More than one conversation,” I snapped. “We need to talk.”
“No,” he corrected. “You need to talk to him. There’s a difference.”
I spun on him, hands on my hips.
“For once, could you not be so damn honest?”
He smirked. “You programmed me this way,” Vlad said, mocking me with his calm demeanor. “Speak freely. Be brutally honest.” Vlad held open his hands. “I always do both.”
Mylo snorted. I rolled my eyes and kept pacing.
“I thought this would unfold differently,” I admitted.
“I knew there would be anger. I accounted for that. But once I set everything in motion, once I pulled the trigger on the lie…I couldn’t stop.
So many times, I thought about turning back, but it was like trying to catch a boulder racing downhill.
I couldn’t stop it, even on the days I wanted to. ”
I sank onto the piano bench and leaned forward, elbows on my knees.
“Now, I don’t know what comes next. What do you think?”
Vlad tilted his head.
“Do you actually want my opinion again?”
“Vlad.”
He sighed. “Fine. You need to give them time. But you also can’t disappear again. You didn’t want to overwhelm Ren earlier, and you were scared. I get that, but you came across—”
“Cold as fuck,” Mylo supplied.
“I know,” I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. “All I wanted to do was hold her. To tell her how much I missed her.”
“Then why didn’t you,” Vlad asked, and I shook my head slowly.
“Because somewhere along the way, I forgot how to be both a leader and a mother.”
The truth burned on the way out.
“Before Lawrence, I knew how to protect without becoming what I despised. After the chemo, and then him—everything warped. The private clinic. The stitches. The rape kit. The months of blood tests looking for diseases.”
I covered my mouth and swallowed the bile, taking a moment before continuing.
“I could handle him hurting me, but when he made me watch as he beat Neil nearly to death…when he threatened to do to Ren what he did to me…I knew I had to act. I could barely breathe properly, my heart hurt constantly, but it was my mind that was tortured. I saw him everywhere, even when no one was around.”
My hands clenched.
“Survival replaced softness. Plotting my vengeance became the only place I could exist without wanting to crawl out of my skin. And when the plan moved forward, I no longer knew where the light ended, and the darkness began.”
Vlad looked away. He had seen the attack. I wish he hadn’t, but it was his job to watch over us. I’d signaled him not to intervene and help me. He would’ve died and I had no idea what Lawrence would do if he thought I had allies.
“Then that is what you need to tell her. You need to figure out how to let her in again, Yuli, or she will never trust you,” Vlad said with a hint of sadness.
Restless energy pulsed through my veins, and I started pacing again.
“That is so much easier said than done. There are three versions of me fighting for control. The woman I was. The woman I became. And the woman I want to be now.”
I stopped and faced them.
“But the look in Ren’s eyes—tell me the truth. Did I make the right choice?”
They exchanged a glance before Vlad stepped forward.
“No one can say what would have happened if you’d gone to Edmundo,” he said, carefully. “Excluding him avoided a war that would have cost hundreds of lives.”
“But was it worth breaking my daughter’s heart?” I demanded. “Her trust?”
“That, only time will answer. What I can say is this. Christov stayed hidden until you forced his hand. You gained control that your father never had. You changed the board.” Vlad met my gaze.
“Every victory costs something. The question isn’t whether there was a loss. It’s whether you can live with it.”
“So, what you are saying is, I can only hope the losses don’t outweigh the wins.” I exhaled. “Can you give me a few moments? I just need to be alone.”
They left without protest.
I returned to the piano and lifted the lid.
My fingers hovered over the ivory keys, remembering what to do before my mind caught up.
I played Clair de Lune, soft and deliberate, the melody filling the room like a confession I couldn’t speak aloud.
It was one of Eddie’s favorites. He once told me it sounded like longing dressed as grace.
Each note pressed against my ribs, threading regret and love into something fragile and familiar. I played not to be heard, but on the off chance that he was listening somewhere in this house. That he would understand I never meant to cause him so much pain.
“And who exactly are you?”
The next notes froze as I looked over my shoulder to see a woman around my age standing in the doorway. Her black hair was done up in a twist, make-up perfect, outfit easily twenty grand. I recognized every brand she draped herself in and the dark, jealous scowl on her face.
Patricia. It hurt that she was still in Eddie’s life.
“You must be Patricia,” I said, trying hard not to sound annoyed.
I’d never wanted to see a picture of the woman Eddie married, but the arrogant glare and self-righteous attitude, like I was standing on her property, did all the talking.
It didn’t matter that she and Eddie had never shared a bed or his heart.
She had my life with the man I loved, and knowing what she looked like would’ve only rotted parts of my brain as it urged me to do something stupid.
“And you are,” she asked.
I really hated it when people talked down to me. I’d endured men doing that most of my life, and I wasn’t going to let this woman do the same thing. I stood and turned to face Patricia. Her mouth dropped as she looked me up and down.
“You’re…you’re…her…but it can’t be. You’re supposed to be…”
“Dead.”
She blinked, and for whatever reason, she reminded me of a little lizard.
“How are you here?” Her brown eyes narrowed into a glare.
“It’s a long story.”
She stepped into the room.
“You…whore,” Patricia said, seething.
I hadn’t been expecting that, but if she wanted to go shot for shot, I was feeling petty.
“Sorry, dear, I believe you’ve confused me with yourself,” I said, knowing all too well that she’d been with multiple men long before Eddie and I lost touch. “I remained loyal to Eddie and our vows.”
“I have dreamed of finding you and stabbing you for interfering in my marriage,” she snarled.
“Well now, you’re just as pleasant as Eddie described,” I said, and her nostrils flared angrily.
“Stop calling him that. He doesn’t like to be called Eddie.”
I sighed.
“Correction, he doesn’t like to be called Eddie by you, or anyone who isn’t me. So, I’ll call him whatever I want,” I said, my hackles starting to rise as she inched closer.
“It’s all your fault. He never gave our marriage a real chance, and it’s all because of you and that brat daughter of yours.
I could’ve made him happy. I should be the one making him happy right now, but you were always there, like a shadow I couldn’t shake.
No matter where I turned, there was something else to remind me of your epic love story. ”
Patricia pointed at me, her anger palpable.
“Did you never think that it was time to walk away? I understand marrying Eddie to get out of your marriage contract, but a few years in, why not leave and find someone who could actually love you? Why hold on to hope when it was so clearly never going to happen?”
“Because I loved him,” she snarled.
“How can you love someone who so blatantly never reciprocated the feelings?”
Patricia took another step, and I subtly set my stance. She was going to attack me. I could sense the pressure in the room building like a balloon filling with air.
“I was happy when you died,” she hissed. “Because for the first time in years, I didn’t have to live in your shadow. But even then—” Her laugh cracked into something ugly. “Even dead, you were still everywhere. Your name. Your memory. His guilt. I was competing with a ghost.”
I smiled slowly.
Not the warm one. The dangerous one.
“Oh, my dear,” I said sweetly, angling closer. “You were never competing with me.”
Her eyes flashed. “I—”
“You were competing with his heart,” I continued, voice calm, cutting off whatever nonsense was coming. “And that was never on offer. You willingly signed your life away. Nothing was taken from you. You could’ve left at any time. So, if you’re miserable, you have only yourself to blame.”
Her face twisted, fury bleeding through the polish.
“You think you’re better than me?”
“No, I know who Eddie loves. Always has. Always will. No matter what you do. But I do find it sad and pathetic that you stayed.”
The silence between us snapped, and Patricia lunged.
She moved fast, nails clawing for my face, rage finally overpowering restraint. I caught her wrist and twisted, slamming her back into the piano. Keys screamed beneath her as she fought, striking wildly like an alley cat.
Her fists feebly pounded into my shoulder, my ribs. We crashed into the bench, then the wall, silk and fury tangling as years of resentment exploded into violence. I was trying not to hurt her as much as I wanted, and it was clear she lacked any real training. She was all hot emotion and no skill.
But I was done with this shit when her hand got loose, and she slapped me hard enough to split my lip.
I smiled through the blood and drove my knee into her thigh. She cried out, shoving away from me. I attacked this time. We grappled, breath ragged, bodies colliding with furniture, the room echoing with the sound of flesh on flesh and fury finally unleashed.
Patricia managed to get a fistful of my hair and yanked it. I slammed her into the floor and pressed my forearm into her throat as she gasped beneath me.
“Get off me,” she shrieked.
I leaned down, close enough for her to see the truth in my eyes.
“You wanted this life,” I murmured. “You assumed he’d eventually forget about me. That was your crucial mistake.”
“Bitch,” Patricia snarled, her teeth practically snapping like a dog.
She reached blindly for something, anything, and that was when I stopped playing fair. I slid the hidden knife from my boot into my palm with practiced ease.
Steel kissed her throat. My hand was steady as her eyes went wide.
Patricia froze.
Her breath hitched, chest heaving as I held her to the floor. One inch. That was all it took.
“If you ever touch me again,” I said quietly, “I will end this.”
“Mama!”
The scream shattered the moment.
My head whipped toward the doorway just as footsteps thundered into the living room. Victoria stood there staring at us in horror.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Eddie’s voice filled the space as the world came rushing back.
I glared down at Patricia.
“Remember what I said.”
Never breaking eye contact, I released her and rose. The knife spun once in my hand before I slid it back into the sheath.
Victoria rushed in and hauled her mother up, fury blazing in her eyes, but neither of them spoke. Patricia clutched at her, sobbing like a wounded animal.
My lip twitched. She was trying for an Oscar with this act.
“Victoria,” Edmundo said coldly, stepping forward. “Get your mother out of this house. And Patricia…”
Her sobs stopped as she looked at him, hopeful. I nearly laughed.
“If you ever set foot here again, I will be the one to end you.”
“Papa, it’s my fault, I—”
“No, Victoria.” His voice cut through her words. “I warned your mother never to come here without permission. Using you as an excuse was vile, even for her. This is not on you.”
Patricia shot me one last venomous sneer before Victoria dragged her away. The door slammed, and the silence that followed was thick and echoing.
Edmundo took in the wreckage. The overturned bench, the scuffed floor, the piano now sitting slightly crooked. Then his gaze landed on me.
“If I’d known violence was the price of a conversation, I would have paid it sooner.”
His jaw tightened.
“Ana…I can’t do this tonight. I’m leaving. Tomorrow. Or the next day. We will talk.”
“Eddie, please.”
He shook his head once, already turning away. The door closed behind him with a final, hollow thud.
I stood alone in the ruin of the room, the echo of his absence rubbing over the old ache in my chest that was my constant companion.
I had survived betrayals, bloodshed, and ghosts. I had rebuilt an empire in my image and learned how to live without mercy. But the thought of losing him—again—for good this time…hurt in a way no blade ever could.
Still, I straightened. Because loving him had always been the one risk I took without armor, and I would rather bleed from that truth than live a life built on lies.