The man I loved for six years—the father of my child—broke his promise to marry me, rather getting tangled up with his aunt, giving her a baby and a wedding.
He thought I’d stay quiet. That I’d wait, loyal and obedient, while he played house with someone else.
What he didn’t know?
I was already planning my escape.
And in just a few days, I’d be gone—with our daughter. He won’t be able to find us ever again.
After I tucked Elly back into bed, I pulled out the laptop and booked two tickets to Las Vegas. It was close to Christmas, so nearly everything was sold out.
The earliest flight I could get was on Christmas Eve—three days from now. I guessed most people would already be home by then, celebrating the holidays with their families.
Christmas had always meant something to me. It was the day I met Archie. Our anniversary.
Funny, how fate liked to twist the knife with a smile.
Because this year, Christmas would be the day I left him—with our daughter.
I was still staring at the screen, lost in thoughts I couldn’t afford to feel, when a pair of arms slid around my waist from behind. Strong. Familiar. Reeking of whiskey.
Archie’s.
He murmured something about kissing me. His lips brushed the side of my neck, warm and coaxing. Then he kissed me on the lips, this time slower, heavier—hands starting to wander, already tugging me toward the bed.
I pushed him away, the scent clinging to his shirt knocking the air from my lungs.
It was Betty’s smell. The scent of her on him made me want to vomit.
I stood and turned away, heading for the living room. “Take a shower,” I said flatly. “You reek.”
He sniffed himself, laughed. “Do I? Sorry, babe. They made me drink at the casino. You know how it is—business.”
His voice trailed off under the hiss of running water.
Archie drinking wasn’t new. He drank to close deals at casino. The Valez owned a casino chain. And since he managed the family business now, most of his nights would spend on drinks.
A little while later, he reappeared in pajamas, fresh-faced. He flopped next to me on the couch and turned on some dull TV show.
“You mad at me, babe?” he asked, lips pouting in that boyish way of his. “You haven’t said much tonight.”
Archie always played innocent around me. Like he didn’t know what he was doing. But he did.
God, he always did.
I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed glued to the screen.
He sighed and wrapped an arm around me, “I’m sorry, babe. If the whole Betty thing is upsetting you… I won’t go to her these next few days, okay? I’ll stay. We can do whatever you want.”
The Betty thing. As if she were some harmless mistake.
And why did it sound like he was scared of her? Like she had the real power?
Oh. Right. Betty was pregnant. Soon they’d have a child of their own. A pure Valez heir.
I turned to look at him. His bare chest, that infuriatingly perfect body—just the right blend of softness and strength. Those warm, honeyed eyes that always made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.
And just like that, staring into those familiar, honey-brown eyes, I was dragged back to the night he asked me to be his girlfriend.
We’d just had one wild, glittering night at a downtown club in Las Vegas.
Music thumped so loud the walls seemed to pulse, bodies moved like waves on the floor, but he pulled me aside, away from it all. His hands cupped my face. His lips brushed my ear.
“Sabrina,” he whispered, barely audible beneath the beat. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
