Emilia’s POV

The weight of exhaustion drags me down as I sit by Valeria’s bedside, my head resting against the arm of the chair. The steady rhythm of her breathing and the faint beeping of the monitors blend into a lullaby, pulling me under.

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when a sudden, ragged gasp shatters the silence.

My eyes snap open. Valeria is stirring, her fingers twitching weakly against the blanket. I sit up quickly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Valeria?”

Her breathing quickens, and her eyes fly open—wild, terrified. She flinches at the unfamiliar surroundings, her body stiffening under the covers. “Where... where am I?” she rasps, her voice raw.

I reach for her hand instinctively. “You’re safe,” I say softly. “You’re in my house. You’re safe now.”

Her eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I see something vulnerable beneath all the fear. But then recognition dawns in them, and her expression darkens with fury.

“You,” she spits, her voice shaking with rage. “You traitor! You sold me out!”

“Valeria, no—” I start, but she thrashes against the sheets, trying to sit up. A strangled cry rips from her throat as pain floods through her broken body.

I lurch forward to steady her, panic rising in my chest. “Please, don’t move! You’re hurt—”

“Stay away from me!” she shouts, her eyes wild with betrayal.

I frantically press the call button for the doctors, but I stay by her side, desperate to make her understand. “I never betrayed you, Valeria. I swear, I didn’t—”

She doesn’t listen. Her breathing is ragged, her body trembling violently. The doctors rush in, their voices blending into a blur as they work quickly to administer a sedative.

Valeria’s eyelids flutter, the fight leaving her body as the medication takes hold. As I reach out, she weakly swats my hand away. “Traitor,” she whispers before slipping back into unconsciousness.

The word cuts deeper than I thought possible.

I stay frozen in place, my hand hovering in the empty space where hers used to be.

“She’s just confused,” one of the doctors offers kindly, but it does nothing to ease the tight knot in my chest.

Dani leans against the doorway, arms crossed, an unimpressed smirk playing on her lips. “What did you expect?” she sneers. “That she’d wake up and call you her savior? She’s a lowlife, Emilia. You should’ve left her where you found her.”

I snap my gaze to Dani, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Shut up, Dani.”

She shrugs, unbothered. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

I blink back the sting of tears, refusing to let them fall in front of her. Without another word, I turn and walk out of the room, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As I shut the door behind me, one thought echoes in my mind—Why does she think I betrayed her? What happened to her in there?

I stand outside Valeria’s room, my back pressed against the cold wall, staring at the floor beneath my feet. My mind is a mess of emotions—guilt, frustration, worry. Her words echo in my ears. Traitor.

A soft voice breaks through my thoughts. “Miss Emilia?”

I look up to see Lucia standing a few feet away, her kind, weathered face filled with concern. She’s been with our family for years—longer than I can remember—but I’ve never really noticed her before. Not in the way that matters.

I know so little about her. Does she have children? Grandchildren? Where does she go when she’s not here, cleaning up after us, making sure everything runs smoothly? Does she even have a life outside of this mansion?

I force a weak smile. “I’m fine, Lucia.”

She tilts her head slightly, her dark eyes studying me in that way only people who’ve seen too much of life can. “You don’t look fine, dear.”

I sigh and glance back at Valeria’s door. “I care about her,” I admit softly. “More than I should. But she hates me.”

Lucia steps closer, placing a gentle hand on my arm. “Maybe,” she says thoughtfully, “you need to see things from her perspective.”

I frown, turning my attention fully to her. “What do you mean?”

Lucia gives me a small, knowing smile. “A girl like Valeria grew up in a neighborhood ruled by gangs. She’s learned to trust no one because trusting the wrong person could mean life or death. And even if she does trust... it won’t be someone who doesn’t understand what she’s been through.”

I feel a pang of guilt settling deep in my chest. “I never meant to make her think I betrayed her.”

Lucia nods. “I know, but Dominic is a ruthless man. People under his rule do whatever it takes to survive. For Valeria, survival means assuming the worst of everyone.”

I blink, taken aback. “How do you know that?”

Lucia’s lips press into a thin line. “I know a lot of things, Miss Emilia. And where I come from, Dominic’s name sends fear into even the bravest of men.”

Her words send a chill down my spine. I’ve been so sheltered in my life that I’ve never considered what it’s like to live in constant fear. I’ve never known what it means to fight for survival every single day.

I lower my head. “I’ve been so... blind,” I whisper. “I don’t even know where to start. How do I make her trust me?”

Lucia squeezes my arm gently. “You don’t.”

I look up at her, confused. “What?”

“You stop trying to make her trust you,” Lucia says with a soft smile. “She will when she’s ready. Give her space. Let her come to you when she’s ready to see that you mean her no harm.”

I let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’ve been pushing too hard, trying too much to fix something that Valeria needs to work through on her own.

“Thank you, Lucia,” I say sincerely, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lucia pats my hand gently. “Anytime, dear.”

As she walks away, I stand there for a long moment, staring at Valeria’s closed door, my heart heavy with everything I don’t understand about her world. But I know one thing—I’m not giving up.

Valeria’s POV

The darkness is suffocating.

Every time I claw my way toward the surface, it drags me back under, a relentless tide of pain and exhaustion. My body aches, every breath a struggle, but the fear—the fear is worse.

I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who’s waiting in the shadows.

I blink against the haze, and the first thing I see is her.

Emilia.

She’s standing by my bedside, adjusting a vase of flowers, her delicate hands carefully arranging each petal. The soft scent wafts toward me, but I can’t focus on it. My heart lurches painfully, my first instinct screaming at me to be wary, to run—but I can’t move.

My chest tightens. She could have told them where I was. I shouldn’t have trusted her.

She sold me out..

Her lips move, but the words blur together, distant and meaningless. I try to focus, to listen—to understand if she’s gloating or apologizing.

I blink, and she’s gone.

The shadows swallow me whole again.

---

The next time I resurface, Emilia is sitting beside me, asleep in the chair. Her head rests against the edge of the bed, dark strands of hair falling messily around her face. She looks peaceful, but I know better.

Rich girls like her are never just kind. They take what they want, and then they leave.

Panic swells in my chest. What if Dominic finds me here? I can almost see his cold eyes, his sharp smile, the way he’ll laugh when he realizes I thought I could escape him.

My pulse quickens. If Emilia betrayed me, it means I have nowhere left to run.

I blink again, and she's gone.

---

I wake to an empty room.

The silence is deafening.

She's not here anymore. Maybe she finally realized I’m not worth saving. Maybe she’s with Dominic right now, telling him where to find me.

A strangled sound escapes my throat, a mixture of frustration and fear.

I close my eyes, trying to convince myself that none of this is real.

---

The next time I drift into awareness, she’s there again.

Closer.

Her hand hovers near mine, hesitant, almost as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear. My body is too weak to flinch, but inside, everything screams at me to pull away.

Her touch is soft. Too soft.

I want to tell her to stop. To leave me alone. But my lips don’t move, and my throat is too dry to speak.

Instead, I sink back into the darkness, wishing it would swallow me whole.

But no matter how far I drift, I know she’ll still be there. Watching. Waiting. And I don’t know if that scares me more than Dominic finding me.

Emilia’s POV

I dip the cloth into the warm water, wringing it out before gently pressing it against Valeria’s forehead. The bruises that once darkened her skin have begun to fade, the swelling around her eye slowly going down. Four days. It’s been four days since they brought her here, beaten and barely breathing. Four days since I thought I’d lost her.

The doctors keep her sedated for her own good. They said it’s better this way—less pain, less trauma. But every time her eyes flutter open, even for a brief second, they’re filled with nothing but terror.

Terror of me.

She looks at me like I’m the enemy.

The thought twists inside my chest like a knife. I shouldn’t care so much, but I do. I shouldn’t feel this pull toward someone who flinches at the mere sight of me. But I can’t help it.

I stay by her side, wiping the sweat from her brow, brushing away stray strands of her hair. Her presence is calming in a way I can’t explain. It soothes something restless inside me—something I didn’t even realize was there.

I sit beside her, reading aloud from the book resting on my lap. My voice is soft, careful, as if I might wake her with a single misplaced syllable.

Sometimes, when I’m not caught up in photo shoots or meetings with my father, I find myself just watching her. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips twitch slightly in sleep, like she’s trapped in a dream she can’t escape.

And the more I look at her, the more I feel drawn to her. It’s ridiculous, really. There’s no reason for it, no logic behind the way my heart feels lighter just being near her.

Maybe it’s because she saved me. Or maybe it’s because she’s the first person in a long time who doesn’t see me as Emilia Hayes, the famous photographer, the socialite, the heiress. She sees me as... something else.

Or maybe she doesn’t see me at all.

I place the cloth back in the bowl and sigh, brushing my fingers lightly against the edge of her bandages. “You’re going to be okay,” I whisper, even though I know she won’t hear me. “I promise.”

I don’t know why I feel the need to say it. Maybe I’m trying to convince myself.

Valeria stirs slightly, her lips parting in a barely audible mumble. I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat.

She doesn’t wake. Not this time.

I exhale slowly, leaning back in the chair and closing my eyes.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. All I know is that I’m not ready to let her go.

Not yet.