**(GAVIN)**

The pain that overwhelms me is nothing compared to what Amanda felt. Or rather, what she still feels to this day.

Somewhere in the world was the person who brutally whipped a young woman’s back, leaving her so disfigured that it was hard to even understand where the wounds began and ended. And this person was probably alive, well, and thriving. This world has never belonged to the good and the just, but to those who managed to escape faster.

I massage Amanda’s skin, which is still crying subtly and silently. My tears also keep falling, and I’m not ashamed to be there crying with her, suffering from her pain. My fingers reach each depression and irregularity, spreading the oil and desperately trying to bring any sense of tranquility and calm to her. As I do this, I can only think about how Donovan would react upon learning... And I needed to tell him. That kind of thing couldn’t be a secret, hidden information. No, it was too urgent, too revolting.

Amanda’s tremors start to become more violent, and I stop the massage. I ask her softly, my voice completely choked:

— Do you want me to stop?

I see her head turning sideways in a clear sign of “no.” I insist:

— You’re not okay, Amanda...

— Continue — her voice is hoarse and weak.

I comply. Silence takes over my thoughts completely, and I can’t say another word. All that matters to me now is offering that small amount of care that I still had the right to. And that’s what I did.

In the midst of the tremors, I see Amanda testing her voice and coughing a bit. It seems that her voice might disappear again at any moment. Nevertheless, I don’t stop what I’m doing. I press the pressure points correctly, intensifying the circular and even movements. My tears have still not stopped falling.

Like a lightning bolt cutting through the air with its electricity amid the rain, breaking the crushing silence that fills the entire room, I hear her voice again. It’s still weak, but much clearer.

I widen my eyes.

Amanda is singing.

And it’s a song known mainly by the American people, a historical song that was part of the culture of the slaves brought from Africa in past centuries.

Hold on just a little while longer

Hold on just a little while longer

Hold on just a little while longer

Everything will be alright

Everything will be alright

Amazed, I almost stop the massage but resume the movements. I feel my heart crushing in my chest and make a silent prayer, begging whoever might be listening to help me save Amanda from the abyss. I ask forces I can’t comprehend to remove all the pain, suffering, and agony that should be marked on that woman’s soul.

Amanda’s voice still resonates through the room.

Fight on just a little while longer

Fight on just a little while longer

Fight on just a little while longer

Everything will be alright

Everything will be alright

I close my eyes. My fingers travel along her spine and then her neck.

Pray on just a little while longer

Pray on just a little while longer

Pray on just a little while longer

Everything will be alright

Everything will be alright

Then Amanda takes a breath, ready to sing the last part of the song.

Sing on just a little while longer

Sing on just a little while longer

Sing on just a little while longer

Everything will be...

Just like in the song, Amanda makes a dramatic pause and takes a deep breath. Then she finishes.

Alright.

. . . . . . . . . .

**(AMANDA)**

It’s already night. Gavin and I are back on the apartment balcony. After many tears and conversations, we decided to stay here to get some fresh air and feel the cold weather that rarely comes to the city. I’m wearing gray sweatpants and a matching sweater; Gavin is also in pants and a shirt, but in black and blue.

I didn’t tell him who was responsible for those scars, nor whether that person was alive or dead. I also didn’t say when I got them, nor where. But it was already obvious that he figured out how I got them. My painful silence was confirmation enough when, drying my tears, Gavin asked me if his suspicions were correct.

The smell of rain was in the air. Sitting in the rocking chair, I sipped the tea that was in the cup in front of me. Gavin is eating soup, not like it’s food, but from a pot. I find it amusing, but I can’t manage to smile right now.

We were about to talk about something difficult. What Gavin discovered was very serious, apparently, and he begged me to tell Donovan as soon as possible. So I agreed to call him quickly so that we could settle this once and for all, while I still had the courage to speak about it out loud.

The tall, muscular man would be shocked by this emergency meeting, especially after avoiding staying in the same environment as Gavin at all costs. But he would certainly come if the request came from me. Thinking about it, there was nothing I could say or want that wouldn’t be done immediately—both Gavin’s and Donovan’s. I had absolute power in their lives, my word was law. That scared me deeply.

When my host massaged my back with the scented oil, I felt that my conscience was about to destroy all the progress I had made over the last few months, and that all that web of recovery I had painstakingly woven would shatter into a thousand pieces without anything I could do to stop it. Breaking like that would be terrible in itself, but nothing new. Breaking in front of Gavin... That was unacceptable.

There was a song I loved when I was younger, a kind of prayer, outpouring, and mantra that always helped me in difficult times. When my voice disappeared, I would sing the song in my mind, but it wasn’t the same. There was comfort in pronouncing the words, hearing the sound of the notes, and feeling their vibration in the air around me. It wasn’t just a way to calm myself but a battle cry. Singing that song attested to something important: that I wouldn’t be an easy prey, and I wouldn’t surrender no matter how much I was suffering.

A cold wind messes up my loose, defined curls, making them sway from side to side. For the past fifteen minutes, neither Gavin nor I have spoken a word. I don’t know what thoughts occupy his mind, but I imagine they are the worst possible. His hot tears kept dripping on my skin amid the circular movements. Then, like a dam finally breaking free, his throat erupted in choked and high-pitched sounds, a cry so heartfelt and so cruel that it was impossible not to be moved as well.

It wasn’t the first time Gavin cried because of me. I mean, whenever he discovered things on his own or when I told part of my past, it was practically impossible for him not to be affected and moved. But it was the first time I heard that cry, that pain taking over his vocal cords. Without exaggeration, it sounded like the weeping of a man who had just lost someone he loved. It was the kind of thing you hear once and never forget.

When the massage finally ended, he gave me a tight hug, a kiss on the forehead, and said a single sentence: “We need to tell Donovan.”

And now we were here, waiting for him.

We didn’t have to wait long. As I took the last sip of my tea, still enveloped in silence, the sound of the doorbell broke it, and the blond man looked at me.

It was time.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

**(DONOVAN)**

Gavin and I had lost touch, and any topic of conversation between us was work-related. We didn’t talk about anything at all, much less Amanda. Every weekend, I would pick her up, but we still didn’t sleep together. I don’t think she was ready for that yet, and to be completely honest, I wasn’t sure if I could stay by her side for that long in my bed without wanting to take her.

So, despite a certain bitterness taking over my heart by late afternoon, I knew there would come a day when this wouldn’t be necessary anymore. I just needed to hold on a little longer. I had been patient until then, and the fruits of this self-control were paying off. What else awaited me if I remained calm, never giving in to despair?

My friendship with Gavin was obviously strained, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. As far as I knew, there was no peaceful way to resolve that dispute. He wasn’t to blame for falling in love with Amanda; it wasn’t something he chose, just as I hadn’t expected to grow fond of her. Honestly, I did everything to suppress and forget those feelings, but there was something inside me saying it was pointless to fight against them. That I could surrender without fear, that things would be different from the last time.

Of course, I needed to be cautious and careful; rushing things or saying words before the right time could cause a catastrophe. But looking into Amanda’s eyes, always so sincere even when upset or sad, it was impossible to even imagine things going wrong. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew well that her heart wavered for Gavin, and that was natural, given that he was there for her every day. What left me pondering was this: even spending less time, and without many of the privileges Gavin had, I was an equal, comparable opponent. If that didn’t mean anything, then lock me up because I must be crazy.

Besides, my relationship with the girl was growing. We hadn’t kissed again, but she allowed me to embrace and caress her, always blushing

in the process and giving that shy smile. We talked about small things, like the heat, favorite ice cream flavors (mine is strawberry, hers is vanilla), places I had visited, books we liked to read. It was easy to communicate with Amanda, who was always receptive. Her voice had returned almost completely, and it was rare for her to deal with any prolonged hoarseness. Seeing her improving visibly gave me a very good feeling. Soon, she would be a hundred percent healed.

So, while watching gray clouds gathering in the sky and feeling a strong wind scattering the leaves of the trees around my house, I hear my phone vibrating. It’s a call, not a message. Nervous, I quickly grab the phone, hoping it’s not terrible news about Urus. “All our stocks have plummeted,” “We’ve declared bankruptcy,” “There’s been a mass layoff and we’re short on labor.”

But it’s not my secretary Rebecca, or any other work representative. It’s worse than that.

It’s Gavin. And I’m sure he would never make a call to me unless it was something completely urgent.

Something involving Amanda.

Sweat immediately starts dripping from my forehead. I answer the phone.

— Hello — I do my best to sound calm and placid.

— You need to come here — his voice is trembling and seems to be straining to sound calm, just like me. It scares me even more.

— What happened? Is she okay?

— She... is okay. I just... found something out. And you need to know about it too.

— I don’t understand.

— We’ll explain as soon as you get here. But please, come as quickly as you can.

— Why? — I don’t like the direction this is taking at all. I notice that the tips of my fingers are trembling.

— ... Because I’m begging you to come.

I blink. Then sigh, resigned and quite nervous.

— I’m on my way.

In a hurry, I take a quick shower and put on light jeans and a black dress shirt. Amanda didn’t have a violent crisis, and that was already good news. If that were the case, he would have called me crying, telling me to rush to the hospital. At least she was well enough to stay at home, which was a relief.

But why call me that night and at that moment specifically? The next day, I would have to be at Urus, so it wasn’t convenient for me to leave so late.

However, I wasn’t doing this for Gavin. It was for Amanda. And for her, I would do anything, even if it hurt me in the process.

Already in the car, I drive as fast as I can. I’m not much of a believer, but at that moment, I prayed for help, calm, and strength to endure whatever I was going to find at the apartment.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**(ALEXANDRA)**

— There’s been a break in routine — Ketlin’s voice resonates through the speakers of my laptop.

Sitting comfortably in my office chair, I blow out the smoke from one of my first cigarettes of the night and demand:

— Explain.

— Fridays and Saturdays are the days of the week he goes out with the girl. But he just parked at Gavin’s apartment.

That was very strange. I frown.

— Did he enter the building’s garage?

— Yes.

Confused, I take another drag of the cigarette. A month ago, Ketlin committed to helping me investigate Gavin’s current personal life. As the loyal friend she always was, my former wedding godmother was astute and perceptive, always finding ways to spy unnoticed and providing me with bits of information. It was like small pieces of a puzzle, and I knew that all I had to do was put them together correctly.

Of course, it was something completely confidential, and not even James knew about it. Besides showing resistance and reluctance about the subject, I figured it was best to keep him away from it all. We would focus on the original plan, which was actually working. But what harm was there in wanting an advantage over the enemy?

That girl was the key. It was already more than obvious that she was staying at Gavin’s house, which in itself was strange. What kind of relationship could they have? I might even think she was his girlfriend or wife, but Ketlin categorically stated that she seemed to have a very intimate relationship with the bodyguard, I mean, Donovan. That practically screamed evidence that could be used to my advantage.

And now this. I take a sip of my whiskey while staring at the laptop screen. Ketlin has been on the voice call with me for about fifteen minutes, the moment she saw Donovan leaving the apartment. Yes, she had hidden cameras along the route that the Urus’ vice-CEO took to leave the small isolated elevation where he lived. That’s what I admired about her, how confident, smart, and agile she could be with the right motivation.

When I told her about what happened between Gavin and me and our breakup, Ketlin was the first to support me and promised that she would stand by me no matter what, and as promised, she did. My friend saw me at rock bottom and deeply in debt, just a few steps from the end, as well as witnessing my rise and glory; she saw how Jewel became one of the biggest corporations in Latin America and how hard I worked for it to happen. Ketlin didn’t forget the amount of tears that fell down my face in the past, and now she was firmly committed to helping me achieve my happy revenge.

Bringing down Urus would be incredible, of course, and a huge rock removed from the way. But what I really needed was to see Gavin bleeding as I bled, destroyed as I was destroyed. Destroying his empire might hurt him severely, but I wanted more. I wanted to make his chances of survival and possible comeback zero. And then crush him like a cockroach.

— Very well then — I say. — Hang up the call and see as much as you can. Then give me the report.

— Of course, Alexandra. I’ll get back to you later — are her last words before ending the call.

I continue staring at the laptop screen, but my mind is far away. I’m contemplating the most creative ways to use all that I’m discovering to my advantage. At the right moment, I would have all the right cards in my hand and declare victory. I wouldn’t give a single point without a knot, or my name wouldn’t be Alexandra.