CHAPTER 17 JARED #2
"Of course you don't understand how any of this works, Jared, which doesn't surprise me.
A politician builds his position during the entire period leading up to an election.
Nobody pulls off a miracle in the last few months.
Forget that. I need a plan, I need a kid, I need to be seen in the right places, and Tim definitely knows where those places are.
Wherever something important is happening, he somehow manages to be there. "
My heart squeezes painfully when I hear the words, I need a kid. For him, it's only a means to an end, but for me it's not. I press my lips together, feeling a subtle, nervous shiver run down my back.
My gaze drifts toward the table where the Ferros are sitting.
For some reason, I notice that Anzo's new husband, that peculiar omega, Moon, is staring at me almost obsessively.
What's his problem?
Suddenly, he raises both hands and, with an incredibly subtle gesture, touches his ears, then lightly tugs one of the tips upward, as though stretching it and making it pointed.
It's so strange that I freeze for a moment, staring at him with my mouth hanging open.
Why did he do it? I instinctively touch my own ears. Does he think they're ugly or something? Do I have pointed tips? I've never noticed anything like that. Uhh. Maybe he's just nuts. That's most likely.
"Are you even listening to me, TikTok brain?"
I swallow hard and glance at Mark. His face is tight, his expression darkening.
"Yeah, yeah, you're looking in the right direction," he murmurs in an almost sadistic tone. "You're going to be seeing him a whole lot more now."
I blink. "Who?"
"Rocco! Who the hell else? I'm going to have to start spending time around Ferros again, which means we'll both have to grit our teeth.
They're the only people with the kind of fortunes that can help me make a bigger splash.
Kellan doesn't have that problem. He's connected to the Lowens through family, so he'll have plenty of money backing him. "
Stress crushes down on me like a suffocating tide. After a while, I just stop listening. Mark loves giving long speeches about politics, strategy, and future plans, and I keep nodding as if I'm paying attention, even though I feel like I'm drowning.
Deep down, I'm still pretending this is the life I actually want.
Finally, I tear my gaze away from Mark and look back toward the Ferros, feeling physically sick.
So I'm going to have to be in the same places as them again? Party with them? Visit their fortress? See the man who raped me and pretend it's no big deal?
This can't possibly end well…
Then I notice Rocco staring straight at me.
Even from across the audience, I can see his narrowed eyes, and a cold shiver runs through me.
Even though Mark knows exactly what happened, he barely seems to care. He certainly doesn't care how I feel.
At the beginning of our relationship, he respected it whenever I told him I didn't want to attend parties, galas, or concerts where anyone from the Ferro family would be present, but those days are long gone.
Now Mark does whatever benefits his career, while my fears, my trauma, and my anxiety no longer matter at all.
I slide my fingers into my pocket and wrap them tightly around the letter. I'll have to be very careful that Mark never finds it, because besides the pendant, it's the only link I have to the man who saved me that night.
Again, I cautiously scan the audience.
He has to be here, watching me. I'm almost certain of it. It's as if some kind of energy connects me to him, as though I can still sense that same thread that appeared between us back then, when he reached out his hand toward me, just before his eyes closed…
Who is he? Damn! Who?
An anonymous mafioso with a conscience who couldn't stand watching his boss hurt me? Someone trapped inside the mafia's ranks, who can't reveal himself?
As I sit there, I feel as though some kind of impulse reaches out to me, as if something is pouring into me, some strange energetic transmission.
Suddenly, I understand why he never contacted me.
It was for my own safety. He had to make this painful choice. It could end with me dead, because the man was part of the mafia and had close ties to Rocco. And still has.
The tragic realization sinks into me: this complete stranger didn't want me anywhere near the Ferros, while my own husband doesn't give a fuck.
My fingers touch the letter one more time.
In a way, it's perfect.
He didn't write anything that demanded something from me. He didn't ask for my attention, didn't burden me with expectations, and didn't speak about his hopes. He simply let me know that he existed, that I hadn't imagined him, and that he still remembered me.
I’m grateful for that.
It was only one brief moment in time when our paths crossed. One single decision he made changed the course of my life. If it hadn't happened, I'd be six feet under by now.
But my unruly heart still aches, despite the fact that what happened was for the best, because I'll probably never get the chance to thank him in person, shake his hand, or look him in the eyes.
In that fleeting moment, a painful thought flashes through my mind.
What if my whole life is wrong?
What if I was meant to have something completely different? And the life I'm trapped in isn't really living at all, but a slow, relentless death?
The thought refuses to leave me. It takes root deep inside my chest, clinging to me long after that moment has passed, refusing to loosen its grip.
It follows me even into the next day, as Mark drives me to my first round of injections meant to stimulate my fertility, so they can extract my egg.
I can feel myself sinking deeper into a chain of events that will soon become almost impossible to escape, sealing another door behind me.
And all I want to do is scream.
But I can't. I have to pretend, smile, and look good, because my life will be in publicity photos from now on.