Tessa's POV
I could swear I heard Aunt Nora's voice as I made my way down the stairs.
The few hours I had spent in this house were suffocating, just yesterday I was in my small space crying over Sergio, and today I was going for a honeymoon I did not plan!
I wore a black dress I had gotten from a thrift discount sale. I got it with my money. I wore it in mourning of the death of my old self; soft and sweet Tessa.
The sweetness of my past self must have been the reason why Sergio threw the towel on us and accused me of cheating.
And cheating with whom?
A tall awkward fool with ugly hair who still thinks he is in his prime.
God forbid!!
I wore that black dress to also make a statement, a small act of rebellion in a war I refused to lose. Just because I was his wife now did not make me his street dog.
He wanted to marry me right? He will get exactly what he ordered.
I got to the last step of the staircase, ignoring the chauffeur who had been waiting. I did not ask him to wait, I wondered if these men had a mind of their own because they just seemed to wait for Pedro to bark orders at them.
So I wasn't wrong when I heard Aunt Nora's voice, after all, I spotted her standing by the entrance. Relief shot through my body like an electric current, she stood there beaming with a smile, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sight of the tall, unsmiling man beside her. A guard.
"Aunt Nora is that you!"
I didn't hesitate. I ran.
"Aunt Nora!"
I barely got two steps before the bodyguard moved, stepping between us like a steel wall.
"You are to see her briefly," he said, his voice void of any emotion. Sounded more like a warning, "Don Pedro is waiting for you in the car and does not like to be kept waiting."
I tried to push past him, my breath coming into fast spasms. "Let me go!"
Aunt Nora reached out, her touch gentle but firm. "Please be gentle with my niece!"
"Aunt I was told you were very ill and have refused to eat" I asked as I struggled with the guard.
"Enough, child. I am okay, just seeing you is enough to keep me sane. Please do not let them hurt you okay"
I turned to her, panic rising. "Forget about me Aunty, are you okay? Has he—"
"I'm fine," she cut me off, her voice was calm, and controlled. If she could reach out to hug me, she would have.
I couldn't get through this brick wall of a man, But I was hellbent on trying.
"No, I can't just leave you here!" I argued, my voice shaking.
"You must," she said softly, her face melted into a sad smile that drove me mad. "Go," she added.
Tears burned behind my eyes. I cursed the day I was born and had to deal with a sight like this, watching the only relative I have left suffer because of me. "I hate this."
Aunt Nora tried to reach for my hand. "I know."
I looked at the guard again, knowing fighting was useless. I gripped my fists till my fingers were digging into my flesh, I forced my feet to move.
I turned and stormed towards the waiting car, I was furious and felt like exploding.
The chauffeur opened the door, and I slid inside.
The second the door shut, his hand was on me.
His Fingers firmly gripped my chin, tilting my face roughly toward him.
My breath caught. "Pedro! Pedro Let go of me."
"Why do you insist on making things difficult?" he asked in between ground teeth.
I yanked free, my pulse hammering. "And why do you like to yell like an incubated he-goat? It's because I'm not your puppet fool!."
His gaze swept down to my dress, "Where is the red dress?"
I folded my arms. "I didn't feel like wearing it."
Pedro exhaled slowly as if willing himself to stay calm. "I told you to wear it."
"And I told you, I wear whatever I please."
He did not say another word.
He pulled out his phone, pressed a button, and spoke in a chillingly controlled voice.
"Alexander, go and gather whatever piece of clothing belongs to my wife and Burn all of them."
My heart stopped. "What?"
"Did you hear me? Burn all of them. I hope you heated me?" he repeated.
My hand unconsciously reached for the car door, I tried to open it but it wasn't opening. This bastard was going to burn all my clothes?
Pedro leaned back with a devilish smile on his face. He turned to me, "You heard me, right?."
"You can't be serious." I shouted, " Stop!! Open this car! You bastard!!"
"I'm always serious." He slipped his phone into his pocket. "You will wear what I buy you. You will eat what I give you. You will sleep where I say. And you will learn, Tessa, that your defiance and innate desire to insult me comes with consequences."
A cold shiver ran through me. This man was a lunatic. "You're insane."
"No, sweetheart." he paused. "I am only responding to your insanity"
Just then the driver got in, and started the car, "Shall we leave sir?"
He said "Yes please" and I screamed "No"
But he obeyed Don Pedro, his orders were the last command. The car engine roared to life while my heart raced as pictures of my burning clothes flashed in my head. I could not believe it.
Can something just happen, anything at all, a car crash, whatever, just kill this man, I prayed.
I wanted this nightmare to be over so badly, but it wasn't. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
***
The car pulled to a stop in front of the private terminal.
I sat in silence, utter silence. The cool night breeze hit my face when the door finally opened.
The private terminal dull lighting casted gentle shadows, and a calm atmosphere where even time seemed to slow down.
I stepped out after the chauffeur opened my door with a bow, I nearly stumbled down the steps, I was clouded in my thoughts, it had become clutter of dread and disbelief.
Behind me, Pedro stood. He a brief glance my way—it felt like a warning that he was in charge.
Before I could gather my thoughts, two uniformed airport officials approached, their movements precise.
One of them, a middle-aged man with a glossy conduct, greeted Pedro with fluent courtesy.
"Señor Lorenzo, welcome. We have everything arranged for your departure tonight," he said, his voice steady. "Your travel documents have been processed, and your jet is ready on the tarmac."
Pedro nodded. "Excellent. I don't like delays."
I felt my pulse racing as the man turned to me.
"May I see your passport, Mrs. Lorenzo?" he asked politely.
Pedro handed him my passport.
"Melissa Lorenzo" he read out.
I swallowed hard. "Yes…" I replied in a flat tone, forcing the lie to roll off my tongue—Melissa Lorenzo.
The name felt alien, I felt Pedro's hand snake briefly around my back—a silent reminder to stay put.
The officer scanned my passport, then gave me a courteous smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Lorenzo. Please enjoy your flight." She stamped my passport.
Pedro received his passport back with barely a nod, and the official continued speaking, "Your VIP lounge is just to the right, sir. We have arranged for immediate boarding once you're ready."
My name is Tessa and will always be Tessa, I said in my mind.
I felt small, insignificant, like a shadow being forced to play a part that wasn't mine.
"Come along," Pedro commanded, turning to lead us inside. "Do not waste my time."
We were ushered past standard security checks—these procedures bypassed the usual long lines and metal detectors, replaced instead by a private checkpoint manned by only a handful of young uniformed officers.
I watched as my passport was taken, scanned, and returned with little more than a nod and a few polite words.
Inside the VIP lounge, Soft music played in the background. Every detail, from the subtle scent of expensive cologne's from other VIP travellers to their hushed conversation, reminded me that this was a world I had never chosen to belong to.
Soon, a flight attendant appeared, gliding towards us in her sleek navy uniform. "Mr. and Mrs. Lorenzo, your flight is ready for boarding. Please follow me to the gate."
We were led through a small, private corridor that opened onto the tarmac.
Outside, the runway was bathed in the harsh glare of floodlights.
The private jet glowed under the lights, ready for takeoff.
At the jet's door, a flight attendant greeted us. "Welcome aboard, Mr. and Mrs. Lorenzo. Please have a seat. Your boarding passes and travel documents are all in order."
I could only nod as Pedro stepped forward, he placed his hand on my shoulder. "Come along," he said, guiding me into the aircraft.
I felt uncomfortable. I was tempted to take his hands off my shoulder. This shameless deceptive display of being a sweet and caring husband was not a narrative I was willing to sell.
I still wondered how the machines and detectors did not detect that this man was a walking lunatic.
God forbid.