Chapter 26

My nap did not last too long, as my sleep was restless, my brain working overtime to process what my life had become. When I dared come back to reality, Alejandro was standing outside, with the window closed, pacing while on the phone. I resisted the urge to go get him and force him to sit down. This man was stubborn and refused to act like someone who had gotten shot. I sighed as I was aware of my own recklessness. I did have a concussion a few weeks ago and clearly still needed to take it slow.

It was past lunchtime, and I was dying of thirst. I got off the bed and took the stairs to the kitchen, where I drank all the water my body asked for and swallowed some Advil to calm the throbbing in my head. I hoped Alejandro was wrong. I even hoped he was lying, but something deep in my soul told me he wasn't.

I suspected something was off, considering how long I had been held in captivity. And every now and then, a voice deep inside wondered if Richard was happy I was missing. If this was going to be his way to play the victim card further, having lost his only daughter. But still, to hear that he might not only be happy I got taken, but be involved in it? That he might have tried to get me killed? What was I supposed to do with that?

I knew Alejandro and I had more to talk about, but I was scared to hear more, to make it more real. I was filled with pain and resentment, and Alejandro wasn't immune.

After all, he also used me as a tool to get something from Richard, the same way Richard had used me my whole life to play the martyr husband who sacrificed everything for a child who wasn't his.

There was no reason he couldn't benefit from the situation while being a real father to me. But he chose differently for us. And now, for some reason or another, he considered me useless to him, so he had sent cops to kill me—the same way Alejandro would pack me up and send me back to Richard in a second if he gave him the diamonds.

I took a deep breath as anger started to course through me again. I wiped away a few tears. Even if Alejandro had hurt me, I did not want him to die. But anger I could deal with. In anger, I found strength. I found walls to use as protection.

I prepared a few quesadillas and brought them to his room with some water. He was still outside. I couldn't handle seeing him right now, but he had to eat. I still needed to make sure he was okay. I wanted to go call him, but that would be too much. He would eventually walk back in and find his food, so I took my tray, grabbed the bottle of tequila, and went to my room, locking the door behind me.

Away from anyone's eyes, I could allow myself a moment of weakness, a moment to cry and feel all the pain I had been hiding. I sat on the floor by the balcony, with alcohol as my best friend, enabling me to get lost in the ocean view, enjoying the sound of the waves.

I hated Richard, but that man was also the only father—or semblance of one—that I'd ever had. And now he wanted to kill me, for some reason that I would, of course, have to know about. I felt more alone in the world than ever.

The feeling wasn't new. If it hadn't been for my nana, I didn't know how my life would have turned out. Nana had filled the void left by my mother. Martha had taught me how to cook, how to dress, how to care for my curls. She had sung to me when I was sad, bathed me, healed my bruises.

I still wished my mother was alive. I still wished I could remember what she looked like more, and I desperately wanted to hear her voice at times, but Nana had certainly done the best she could for me, filling in the role with grace, patience, and unconditional love. But Richard was never there.

I had to fend for myself, go to school, rely on my friends' parents for help with my homework and always either came back to an empty house or to a man who screamed at me when I tried to hug him.

I was always conflicted between my resentment toward him and the love that I did feel for him as the only parent in my life, for better or worse. Now, there was no room for love—not for someone who would rather have me dead than have to part ways with money, or diamonds, or whatever it was Alejandro was after.

I got startled when I heard a few knocks. Alejandro was the last person I wanted to see. I closed my eyes and decided to stay silent, hoping that he would give up and go away.

"Amelia? Open the door!"

I sighed. Of course, there was no scenario in which he would just walk away and let me be.

"I want to be alone!"

Alejandro knocked again. "I said open the door!"

He knocked again, violently, when I refused to listen.

"Godamnit, Amelia, if you don't open this door, I will break it!"

He sounded so angry I thought twice about whether I wanted to open the door. When he pounded on it again, I could have sworn the room shook. Worried that he might hurt himself and start bleeding again, I wiped my eyes and opened the door.

"What?"

Alejandro just stood there, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with anger and his jaw clenched. He almost looked like he was going to kill me, so I took two steps back.

"Are you okay?" It wasn't the reprimand I was expecting, his eyes searching mine anxiously.

"I'm fine," I said, walking away. I feared that if I let him get any closer, I would start crying again.

"We have to talk," he said, closing the door behind him.

"No, we don't." I walked back to where I was sitting, grabbing the bottle of tequila.

Alejandro slowly sat on the bed.

"I'm sorry," he started. "I can't imagine how it feels to find out that your stepfather is not who you thought."

"That's the thing," I said dryly, "I should have known."

"What do you mean?"

"I should have known the minute I got kidnapped that I'd be doomed. I should have known he wouldn't bother."

"I see now that your kidnapping was a pointless move. Clearly Richard doesn't give a fuck about anyone but himself."

"Sorry to disappoint," I said sourly, facing him, my cold brown eyes cautiously scrutinizing him. "What's your plan now that you know I am completely useless to you? Kill me? Get rid of me? Sell me to the highest bidder?" I asked, hands in fists, a dry mocking tone showing resentment, a sour smile on my lips.

"Amelia," he said, getting up. "If you would let me explain—"

"Explain what?" I cut him off. "You are all the same, and I somehow always end up a tool in your little fucking games!"

"I am not the one who took you!" he yelled, grabbing my arm to force me to face him.

"You really expect me to believe you?" I laughed.

Alejandro let go of me so suddenly I struggled to remain standing. He walked away, hands on his hips, as he started pacing.