LENA’S POV

Before Francine walked off angrily, my eyes had wandered to her feet. She was wearing a pair of designer gemstone shoes made in Paris - the exact same pair I wanted desperately for my birthday. I remembered how I had begged Marcelo to get them for me, but he had told me they were out of stock. Instead, he had bought me a pair of shoes I didn't even like, and I had only worn them to please him.

Now I realized why Marcelo had told me the shoes were out of stock. It was because he had gotten them for Francine. I felt like such a fool for not seeing the signs earlier. Marcelo had always favored Francine, but I had been too blinded by his fake love to notice.

I thought back to all the times Francine had done something, and Marcelo had never seemed to have a problem with it. He had always been so accommodating, so supportive. I had thought he was just being nice because Francine was the illegitimate daughter, but now I realized that was just a lie. He had always favored Francine, and I had been too stupid to see it.

I shook my head, feeling sorry for myself. I was done with all the bullshit. I needed some time to clear my head, to figure out what I wanted to do next.

I dragged my suitcase out of the house, taking one last look at the place that had once been my home. My mom was waiting for me outside by the car.

She rushed to my side, pulling me into a tight embrace, and I finally allowed the tears to drop down my cheeks.

"I'm done, Mama," I whispered, feeling my heart breaking. Mom nodded sadly and drove me to the hotel.

As we got checked in, a sudden idea struck me. Perhaps a change of scenery was exactly what I needed. Without wasting time, I pulled out my phone and began searching for flights to Las Vegas.

In thirty minutes, I booked a ticket for the following morning, and a charming Airbnb rental that had caught my eye online.

It was stunning, just the perfect size and modern decor I fancied. However it was expensive, $1000 per night, but I didn't care. I needed a place to escape, and somehow it called out to me and felt like home.

The next morning, Mom drove me to the airport.

As we hugged goodbye, I reminded her not to let anyone know where I was. I needed time for myself and didn’t want anybody’s interference.

I boarded the plane to Las Vegas, feeling excited. I had always loved Las Vegas, the bright lights, the energy, the freedom.

When I finally got settled that same day in my new apartment, my phone rang. It was Marcelo and I wondered what the hell he wanted now. I reluctantly swiped the call left.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual.

"Hey, babe," Marcelo replied, his voice smooth as silk. "I'm so sorry, but I have some bad news. I just got a call from the photographer, and I won't be able to make it to our wedding photo shoot tomorrow."

I raised an eyebrow, feeling irked. "So, we should reschedule?"

He hesitated for a moment before responding. "No need, babe. What's the point of wedding photos, anyway? We can just use some old photos we took in the past. And we'll take a ton of photos on our wedding day, so it's not a big deal."

I felt a spark of anger ignite within me. Was he kidding me? Our wedding photos were important to me, and he was just brushing them off like they didn't matter.

"And then about our engagement party?" Marcelo continued. "We don't need to have another one, right? The last one didn't exactly go well."

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my cool. "Of course. What about my bachelorette party? Should we just cancel it too?"

"No, you should still have it. How about the night before the wedding? But Francine will have to be there. We can't allow her to feel left out."

I couldn't believe the audacity of this man. He was forcing me to include Francine in my bachelorette party, just like he had forced her into our engagement party.

"Of course, Francine will be there," I said, my voice tight. "Just as you wish."

As soon as I hung up the phone, I felt like hitting it against the wall. I was done with Marcelo and his controlling behavior. I was done with the wedding, the engagement party, and the whole charade.

I quickly grabbed my phone and shot a text to my friends in our group chat. "Hey girls, change of plans. The bachelorette party is now a cute sleepover... because I'm calling off the wedding!"

LENA’S POV

As I sat in my new cozy apartment, sipping on a freshly brewed latte, my friends' voices came through the speaker, sounding concerned and relieved.

"Lena, we're just so glad you finally know the truth," Sophia said, her tone sincere. "We've always known that Marcelo was never good enough for you, but your love for him just blinded you to it all."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I can't believe I was so stupid, so blindly devoted to him. All the signs were there, and I just chose to ignore them." I paused, feeling a familiar ache in my chest. "My heart is still in pieces, you know?"

"I’m really sorry, babe," Yvonne chimed in, her voice gentle. "But you're not weak, okay? You're stronger than you know, and you've finally taken the first step to becoming free of that man."

I gave a stiff nod, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "You're right. I'm not going to let them keep me down any longer."

We laughed and joked till the call ended.

As the evening wore on, I got myself busy in the kitchen, fixing up a dinner of grilled chicken, roasted potatoes, and a tangy, homemade sauce. Cooking always distracted me and it was a great feeling.

Just as I was pouring myself another steaming mug of my favorite latte, my mom's face appeared on the video call. "Mija, how are you holding up?" she asked, her brows drawn together with concern.

I offered her a reassuring smile. "I'm doing better, Mama. This house is so peaceful, and I'm glad I chose it. I think I'm going to spend my time exploring the city later tonight. There's just something about this place that feels... liberating, you know?"

Mom nodded, though I could see the worry in her eyes. "Are you sure you're okay being there by yourself?"

I chuckled, taking a sip of my latte. "I'm a big girl, Mama. I can handle it. Besides, I need this time to myself, to clear my head and figure out what's next."

She sighed. "Okay, sweetie. But please be careful. And there's something else. Your dad's health is declining, and with the look of things, he might not survive it. Wouldn't you come home?"

I felt guilty, but I knew I couldn't go back right now. "I'll return when I can, Mom. But for now, I need to focus on myself. I promise I'll stay in touch."

A message from Marcelo popped up on the screen then.

"Mama, I'm going to have to call you back," I said, my tone clipped. "Marcelo is trying to reach me, and I wanna see what he has to say."

Mom nodded in understanding and the call ended.

I took a deep breath and opened Marcelo's message. To my surprise, it was a series of photos – photos of a wedding dress that was definitely not my style.

I couldn't believe my eyes as I read the text. Along with the pictures of the wedding dress, he had added a message that made my blood boil.

"I let Francine pick it out because she has a higher taste than yours," he wrote.

I felt disgusted. How dare he? He had the nerve to insult me, to imply that Francine was somehow better than me. I was furious. So I was going to wear what Francine chose?

But I didn't let my anger get the best of me. Instead, I calmly read the rest of his message. He told me that the fitting was tomorrow and that I should be at the bridal shop at a certain time. He even sent me the address.

"I would have come to pick you up tomorrow," he wrote, "but I'm going to be engaged with business."

Yeah, right. I knew exactly what kind of "business" he was engaged in. More like engaged with Francine.

"How about having the wedding in seven days instead of twenty-one days from now?" he asked.

I typed back a response, as quickly as I could. "Anything you want," I wrote. "The faster I get married to the man of my dreams, the better."

Pfft. He used to be the man of my dreams but not anymore.

He sent me a heart emoji and a message that made my skin crawl. "I can't wait to make you my wife," he wrote.

I knew deep down that he was trying to rush the whole wedding because he didn’t want me to get my memories back fully.

Just as I was about to respond to his message, the door burst open and a bleeding man stumbled in. He was holding his lower abdomen, and he looked like he was in pain.

I screamed at the top of my voice as he passed out on the floor. My heart was beating fast, and my mind was spinning. What was happening?

LENA’S POV

My legs felt like lead as I stared down at the unconscious man lying on my living room floor. Who the hell was he, and how did he find his way here? I had to find out.

Cautiously, I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed the largest knife I could find, holding it tightly in my trembling hand. I needed to protect myself, just in case this stranger posed a threat.

With the knife gripped firmly, I slowly approached the man again, peering out the front window as I went.

The street outside was dark and deserted, apart from an expensive black convertible parked haphazardly at the curb. Was that his car? Did he come here for a reason? My stomach twisted with unease as I shut the door quickly.

With all my strength, I dragged him across the floor, trying not to hurt him further. As I pulled him, I noticed that he was bleeding profusely, but I checked his breathing closely, relieved to find that he was still alive.

I drew in a sharp breath and bent down beside the man, trying to get a better look at him.

He was dressed in a black t-shirt that clung to his muscular frame and a pair of dark slacks. His tattoos on his arms were visible, and a silver earring glinted in his ear. His luscious dark hair fell over his forehead, framing his chiseled features. I couldn't help but notice how breathtakingly handsome he was, even in his current state.

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the knife and setting it aside. Panic set in as I wondered what to do with him.

I was in a new city, with no connections, and I had no idea what to do.Should I call the police? What if he died?

But what if they didn't believe me? What if they thought I had something to do with this? My mind raced with panicked thoughts.

I leaned in closer and noticed the gaping wound in his abdomen. Blood was still seeping from it, staining the fabric of his shirt.

Carefully, I reached out and pressed my hand against it, trying to stop the flow. I could feel his warm skin beneath my fingertips, and my heart had skipped a beat. Focus, Lena, I told myself sternly.

I searched around for a first aid kit before finally locating one in the bathroom cabinet. Hurrying back to the living room, I knelt beside the man and began cutting away his shirt with a small pair of scissors.

My eyes popped out at the sight of his toned muscular chest. Was he a movie star or top magazine model ? I tried to focus, reminding myself that I needed to help him.

As I examined his wound, I realized that he had been shot. I quickly got to work, trying to stop the bleeding and clean the wound. My hands shook as I worked, but I tried to stay calm.

When I was done, I applied a thick, sterile dressing, wrapping it tightly around his middle. Just as I was about to check his pulse again, his eyes suddenly fluttered opened. I gasped as I stared into the most piercing crystal blue eyes I had ever seen. They were sexy, intense, and seemed to bore into my soul.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the only sound being his uneasy breathing. I felt like I was drowning in those eyes, unable to look away.

He tried to sit up with much difficulty. "Now who the hell are you?" He demanded, his voice low and rough.

I scowled at him. "I could ask you the same question. You just barged into my house and passed out disrespectfully," I pointed out.

He raised an eyebrow. "What the heck?" he said. "You're the stranger here obviously."

"How about you stop being rude and say thank you?" I suggested. "You're not dead right now because I saved your life. I could have just left you to die on the floor."

He frowned, glancing down at the bandage on his abdomen for the first time. "What the fuck?" he muttered as a look of surprise crossed his face.

Turning his attention back to me, he said, "Alright, fine. Thank you for not letting me bleed out on your floor." He paused, then added, "Now why don't you complete the help and help me get on my feet?"

I groaned inwardly and cautiously set the knife aside and moved closer to him. "Alright, come on then. But just so you know, you're quite heavy."

With some effort, I managed to get him to his feet, but I immediately felt unsteady. He was so much taller than me that he ended up towering over me. I tripped under his weight and he quickly reached out to steady me, his arms wrapping around my waist.