40. Chapter 40
Veronica
I open my eyes and find myself curled up next to Miles.
The reminder of what happened flashes back.
The photographs, the jungle, the aftercare.
I wince as I try to get out of his hold.
My hunger woke me up. Miles is right; I haven't been eating well lately. Although my entire body is sore, I can’t help but take a relieving breath.
I feel lighter. I guess all I needed was a good whipping and a truth session.
Many truths came to light. Miles admitting that he killed his father doesn't bother me. He’s like my brothers in the sense that he hides his monsters.
I’ve known who my brothers are from an early age, so I can’t judge him.
I do feel guilty about Vaun; knowing that I’m the reason he’s dead weighs on me, but not as much as it should.
I exit Miles’s bedroom and enter mine. I slept naked, so I borrowed one of his sweaters.
I don’t want to bump into Susana without clothes.
I exit my room, and I hear a creak. I turn to see Susana in the middle of the staircase.
I recognize the look in her eyes. It’s rage.
I was heading toward the stairs but think better of it, so I pivot and return to Miles’s room.
He’s sitting up on the bed, wearing his glasses.
Looking hot as fuck. That image makes my lady parts tingle.
“Good morning, baby. How are you feeling?”
“Sore and hungry.” I could stay in this room all day, but I need to eat. “I was wondering if we could get out of the house today. Maybe go into town?”
His smile reaches his eyes. “I’d love that.”
An hour later, we head into town. Susana disappeared somewhere, so I didn’t get any more death stares.
We pull up to a café in the middle of a small town.
I look around. Cobblestone streets wind between whitewashed houses with bright tiled roofs and doors painted in vibrant colors.
In the center, a sun-drenched plaza sits under the shadow of an old church.
The café is filled with the scent of strong coffee and the sound of people gossiping. It’s beautiful.
He leads me to a small corner table. The interior mirrors the town’s doors with its bright colors. It’s impossible not to smile. I can see myself coming here every day.
“Is your family from here?” I ask. I just have so many questions.
“My mother was born here. This is home, well, was home.” He looks at the menu—or at least pretends to. “My parents met when my mother attended university. By that time, abuelo’s business was thriving.”
“How did your grandfather meet mine?” Because I know nothing about how my family’s history is linked with his.
He gives me his full attention. “From what my mother told me, they met when they were children.”
Yeah, I’m clueless. “I had no idea our families had such a long history together.”
I start to play with a loose strand of my hair. “Wait, what about your Tia? Was she born here too?”
“Tia Susana isn’t my actual aunt, baby. I grew up calling her that.
She was Mama’s best friend all through her life.
She was always there, like a sister to her.
Mama was an only child. The night Mama died, I called her.
My mother entrusted her with taking care of me if anything ever happened.
There are times when I think that Mama knew what the outcome would be with my papa.
After we left Veridian Bay, she was isolated. Only Tia Susana came to visit.”
I place my hand over his and squeeze it. “You have me.”
The waitress comes to our table with two cups of coffee. It smells amazing.
“Camilo, bienvenido.”
Miles stands up to greet the woman. “Muchas gracias, Dona Alicia.”
“Who is this lovely woman?” she asks in her broken English.
I extend my hand to introduce myself. “Hola, Dona Alicia, soy Veronica.”
“Mucho gusto, Veronica. Eres muy linda.”
“Gracias, Dona Alicia.”
“Camilo, I am glad you finally brought someone to Colombia. I was beginning to worry.” She laughs as she walks away.
“Everyone knows you by Camilo?”
“Yes. Only a handful of people call me Miles. There’s one person who really gets a kick out of calling me lapdog. Not that I mind some licking.” He winks.
I swear I turn a shade of red. He looks so relaxed. I asked him to wear his glasses, and I am loving the view.
We enjoy breakfast and have some amazing flan. Now we’re walking around the streets of the busy town. “What was your mother like?” I ask.
He’s holding my hand. “She was smart and loved living here. It didn’t matter where we were, you would find her in the kitchen cooking, or in her studio painting.
Flowers were her favorite thing to paint; she would say, ‘Like us, not one flower is the same.’ Her smile would light up a room.
When I played sports, she would be at every single game.
She loved being a mother.” We stop in front of a boutique, and he turns to me.
“You know I never got you a gift for Christmas.”
“You don’t need to get me anything,” I insist, trailing after him into the small jewelry store.
Miles doesn’t listen. He moves with a quiet purpose, bypassing the glittering diamonds and gold, to stop at a specific display case.
He points once. The attendant nods, wraps the item with practiced efficiency, and just like that, we’re walking back out into the salt-heavy air.
It is, by far, the fastest transaction I have ever witnessed.
“Don’t you need to put more thought into the gift?” I tease, trying to mask the sudden flutter in my chest. “That was some record-breaking shopping. Did you even look at it?”
He leads me toward a weathered bench overlooking the sea; the sound of crashing waves surrounds us. “For your information, I saw this a couple of weeks ago and thought of you,” he says. He presses a small velvet box into my hand. “Open it.”
I flip the latch and see a strand of pearls, glowing with an iridescent, moonlit sheen. I look up at him, my breath hitching.
“When I was younger, my mother made me promise that when I fell in love, I’d buy that woman a pearl necklace,” Miles says softly. “Just like my abuelo did for my grandmother. It’s a tradition she wanted me to uphold.”
“You love me?” I ask, my lips trembling as the weight of the gesture sinks in.
“With everything I am.” He leans in, his gaze unwavering and fierce. “I love you, Veronica Kayde.”
A shaky laugh escapes me, tears blurring my vision. I think back to every time I told him I hated him. I meant it then, but somewhere along the way, the animosity and anger toward him turned into something else. “I love you too, lap—I mean, Miles Villanueva.”
It’s late afternoon when his phone rings. He looks at it, and worry etches his face. “It’s Tia Susana.” He doesn’t hesitate to answer the phone. I can’t make out what’s being said on the other end. I know Spanish, but he’s speaking it so fast. He takes my hand, and we start walking.
“What’s going on?”
“Tia isn’t feeling well. I need to go check on her.”
Tomas’s words come to mind. I’m never one to hold back.
He’s leading me to the car, but I pull away from his grasp.
“Miles…do you think she makes these things up?” I stand my ground.
“It’s just that Tomas said something to me, and well, ever since I came here with you, she’s been nothing but cold and unwelcoming. She’s jealous.”
“Tomas? When did you talk to Tomas?” I can see his jealous nature start to show.
I roll my eyes. “When my mom was in the hospital, and you were here. He told me about his trip here with you.”
He takes a defensive stance. “Veronica, I know she hasn’t been welcoming. Just give her time. It’s just…”
I snap. “It’s just what, Miles? That she has been the only woman in your life for years, and now that you have someone, she can’t stand seeing you with them?” I put my hands on his chest. “You watch people; you track them. She isn’t exempt just because she raised you.”
“She wouldn’t lie to me.” I see his inner conflict. “She gave up her life to raise me.”
Really? “You’ve taken care of her in so many ways.” I don’t want to fight, so I concede. “Let’s go.” I move to walk ahead of him.
The car ride is a stark contrast to earlier.
Silence. I can tell he’s thinking about what I said.
Miles is nothing but logical. He needs to see all the facts and dissect every piece of information.
A couple of minutes later, we arrive at the house and head upstairs, the floorboards groaning under the weight of the silence between us.
Miles taps his knuckles against the wood—twice, sharp and impatient—until the door creaks open.
“Mijo!” Susana gasps. She practically throws herself into his arms, a move so practiced it feels choreographed. Over his shoulder, she shoots me a look of pure venom, her lips curving into a triumphant smirk.
I don’t hesitate. “Susana, Miles and I have discussed it. We think it’s best to take you to the city for a full examination. It’s a short flight.”
I feel Miles’s gaze move toward me, heavy and silent, but I keep my focus on her. “He’s going to be spending a lot more time in Veridian Bay, so we need to ensure you’re in the best hands.” I finally look at Miles. “Right?”
Susana’s grip on his arm tightens, her knuckles turning white. “Mijo, you don’t have to do that. It is too much trouble. I will simply call my doctor in the morning.”
“Actually, Tia,”—Miles’s voice is cool, devoid of the warmth she was fishing for—“I’ve already called and fired him. We’re finding you a specialist. I’m also arranging for Tomas to fly in for biweekly checkups.”
“I’m not going, Camilo.” Her voice is stern. She’s trying to stand her ground.
Miles narrows his eyes. “Why not?”
Susana turns her gaze to me, her lips curling into a slow, malicious smirk that never reaches her eyes. “Because I don’t have to do anything this bitch tells me to do.”
And there it is. The real Tia Susana.
“How much of it was a lie?” Miles asks. His voice is a low rumble, the sound of a man watching his world fracture.
“The illness? The doctor? All of it?” She doesn’t answer.
She just stares at him with a hollow, haunting intensity.
She’s finally lost her grip, watching her last piece of leverage die in his eyes.
Miles doesn’t flinch. He just stands there, regarding her with a cold detachment that makes my skin crawl.
The man who was just ready to carry her to a plane is gone.
In his place is someone much more dangerous.
“All of it, then,” Miles says, his voice a flat, dead calm.
“The dizzy spells. The midnight calls. You know how much I worried about you. How much guilt I carried for you sacrificing your life for me. Why?”
Susana doesn’t blink. She doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. Instead, she sheds the last of her frailty, her spine straightening until she’s looking him dead in the eye.
“Because guilt is the only thing that kept you with me, Camilo,” she says, her voice devoid of any warmth.
“The only thing that kept you coming back here.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You are my family. The only one I have left.” He looks at me. “But I’m not alone, and I won’t ever be.”
He turns his back on her, the ultimate insult to a woman who thrives on being the center of his world. He reaches out, taking my hand in his, his grip steady and grounding.
“Pack your things,” he tells her without looking back. “You have one hour before the locks are changed. You can go to the city, or you can go to the street. I don’t care which one you choose.”