The One She Needed

FOURTEEN

RAQUEL

Blood.

So much crimson.

It drips from my nose, carving a path down my chin before staining Derek's office floor, mixing with my agony.

He didn't mean it.

At least, that's what he claimed. But his words won't erase the sting of humiliation, nor will they dull the pain of watching him bury himself inside Serena—on his own damn desk.

Out of every woman in the world, it had to be her.

I had walked in tonight, ready to discuss something important, only to find him reaching his peak inside my mortal enemy.

I expected some guilt. A flinch, maybe. A mumbled apology. After all, we were engaged. I had naïvely thought marriage would tame his habits. But instead, as I screamed, called him every name I could think of, his response came swift and violent—a fist colliding with my face, followed by another. And another. Kicks, punches, rage—until I hit the ground.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

I pluck each petal from the limp flower between my fingers, hoping luck will favor me.

It never does.

How did I get here? How did I allow myself to love a man wrapped in thorns, knowing every embrace would leave me bleeding?

I built my life around logic. I shut off emotions the moment I slept with Alex, choosing reason over feeling, even as my heart still ached for him. Especially after what I found out.

Just days ago, I saw the pictures—images of Alex and me at the ball, more of us leaving the restaurant we had visited together. The media had taken notice. The world had begun to whisper.

What is she doing with him?

Yet she has one of the most eligible bachelors by her side.

Even my so-called peers judged me, their eyes questioning my sanity for choosing him. "He's not two-faced or shallow like you all," I had wanted to say. But I bit my tongue.

My publicist, Janine, panicked over the potential scandal. My mother? She had a colorful selection of words when she learned more about Alex—who he really was, how old he was. My father had called, no doubt wanting to confirm if my mother's outburst had been dramatic exaggeration or cold truth. I hadn't answered. I wasn't ready for his disappointment.

Derek had been livid.

And despite my efforts to downplay my relationship with Alex, he cornered me with one simple question: Do you still love him?

I should have lied.

I should have told him no.

But instead, I let my guilt speak for me.

So, to prove my devotion, Derek asked me to marry him. The pressure, the judgment, the weight of everyone's expectations—it all crashed down at once. On paper, we made sense.

So I said, "Yes."

And I ended things with Alex.

Now, crumpled on the floor, my blood soaking into the carpet, I don't feel worthless.

But I am close.

A sob breaks past my trembling lips, echoing through the empty office as I cradle my stomach. A dull headache creeps in, but I can't move. The weight of my own shame pins me down.

Then footsteps.

Derek?

No.

I lift my gaze and find myself staring into the horrified eyes of Alex.

"Raquel—what the—who did this to you?"

In an instant, he's cradling my head, concern twisting his features. He lifts me effortlessly, his warmth seeping into my frozen body. I wish he hadn't found me like this. I wish he hadn't seen me this broken. But I clutch his shirt anyway, inhaling his scent, grounding myself in his presence.

"Please, tell me—who did this to you?" His voice shakes with fury as he grabs his tie, pressing it against my nose to wipe away the blood.

"I'm sorry about what I did, but next time kno—"

Derek stops mid-sentence as he strolls into the office, ice pack in hand. His gaze lands on Alex.

And then, all hell breaks loose.

Alex is on him in a flash. His fists connect with Derek's face—once, twice, again. His knuckles split, but he doesn't stop. His kicks send Derek sprawling, blood splattering as he thrashes beneath Alex's wrath.

I move before I can think, grabbing Alex, trying to pull him away.

"Alex! Please, stop!" I scream, but he doesn't hear me. His rage is deafening.

"How dare you put your hands on HER?" Alex roars. "I SHOULD KILL YOU FOR THAT!"

The office door bursts open. Security floods the room. It takes three men to pry Alex off Derek's limp body. They wrestle him down, pinning his arms, their voices barking orders. But Alex keeps fighting.

"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! HE HURT HER—HE HURT HER!"

His voice cracks. His eyes shine with unshed tears as the cuffs snap around his wrists.

I stand frozen, watching through an invisible barrier as they drag him away, his fury reverberating through my bones.

So much for avoiding drama.

***

For as long as I can remember, I've despised pity.

I see it now in Angie's eyes as she presses an ice pack to my swollen cheek. I don't say anything. Neither does she.

After the chaos—Alex's arrest, Derek's hospitalization—Janine had jumped into action, trying to bury the scandal before it spiraled out of control. I should be relieved. But my only concern is Alex, who was dragged away like some criminal while Derek sat protected in his hospital bed.

No cuffs for him. No consequences.

Of course.

I knew my stepfather had pulled strings to keep Derek untouchable. When he arrived with my mother, the truth became glaringly obvious.

Bribery had its benefits.

But the real pain came when my mother turned to me, venom in her voice.

"You had no business in his office."

Not concern. Not sympathy. Just blame.

She even scolded me for speaking to the cops, for daring to tarnish Derek's reputation.

It was then that I walked out of the hospital, tired, drained, empty.

And as my stepfather delivered his final warning, his words echoing in my head, I realized my situation was worse than I ever imagined.

I need to leave.

I have to escape.

But still—

The little girl inside me clings to hope.

One day, maybe, she will love me.