Chapter 2

Shantelle’s POV

The heavy oak canvas frame slipped from my numb fingers.

CRACK!.

The sound of wood scattering against the cold, marble floor tore through the silent garage like a gunshot.

Under the dim security lights, the two figures broke apart immediately. Martina gasped, her hand flew to her chest, while Alejandro spun around. His tie was undone at the collar.

Blood drained from his face until he looked like a ghost. “Shantelle…”

I stared at him. Then my eyes shifted to Martina.

Her emerald gown was rumpled at the hip where his hands had just been holding her butt against his body. This was the man whose ring was supposed to be on my finger before the night ended.

A strange, unnatural calm washed over me…the kind that settles after everything worth saving has already been burned to ashes.

I knelt down, my red silk dress pooling around me on the dirty floor, and picked up my father's portrait.

A new crack now ran straight across the face I had spent three weeks carefully painting.

Alejandro took a frantic step toward me, reaching out a hand.

“Shantelle, let me—”

“Don't you dare!.” My voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the cold night air like a blade. I didn't look at him as I stood up, clutching the broken canvas against my ribs.

Ever since my mom passed away, I had been a beggar in my own home. I had begged my father for a crumb of pride. I had begged Carmen for a shred of decency. I had begged the man standing in front of me to look at me like I was his entire world.

As I watched my fiancé’s lips still marked from my sister’s lipstick, the realization hit me like a physical blow.

Martina slowly stepped out from the shadow of the vintage car. The shocked look on her face was quickly replaced by a smooth satisfaction.

A faint, pitying smile curled by the corner of her lips.

“Oh, Shantelle,” she purred, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “You really shouldn't have been lurking in the dark.”

My throat felt like it was full of shattered glass. I forced my eyes back to Alejandro. “Tell me I’m hallucinating,” I whispered, my voice cracking on the last word.

“Please, Alejandro. Tell me my eyes are playing tricks on me.”

He opened his mouth to speak but not a single sound came out.

That silence was worse than a confession. It slammed into my chest, locking the air in my lungs.

“Don't make a scene, Shantelle,” Alejandro muttered, his eyes darting nervously toward the main hallway behind me. “Keep your voice down.”

A harsh, broken laugh tore from my throat. “A scene? You were pressing my sister against a car with your tongue in her mouth at our engagement party!”

Martina folded her arms across her chest, rolling her eyes dramatically. “It isn't what your dramatic mind is making it out to be. Alejandro was just comforting me. That's all.”

“Comforting you how?” I took a step closer, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “By grinding his body against yours?”

The sweet, innocent facade Martina wore crumbled instantly. Her eyes swept lazily over my disheveled hair and my tear-stained cheeks.

“Honestly, Shantelle, what did you expect?” She took a slow, deliberate step toward me, her heels clicking sharp against the stone.

“You’ve spent your whole life hiding behind the González name, throwing tantrums because Dad doesn't praise your childish little paintings. Look at you. You’re insecure, needy, and completely lost. Alejandro was bound to grow tired of carrying your baggage.”

“Just so you know, men like Alejandro don't stay with women like you.”

Every word felt like a physical strike, aimed precisely where she knew I was weakest.

Before I could choke out a reply, heavy, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Father burst through the doorway, his face dark with fury, with Carmen hovering right at his shoulder like a vulture.

Father’s icy gaze swept over the garage taking in Martina’s rumpled dress, Alejandro’s guilty posture, the broken canvas in my hands, and the raw anger on my face.

For one terrifying second, my heart pleaded with him. Look at me, Father. See what they did to me. Protect me just this once.

His eyes bypassed the guilty pair entirely and locked onto me, hardening into absolute disdain. “Shantelle,” he hissed, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. “Why are you causing another disgraceful scene?”

Another?...

I stared at him in shock. I pointed a shaking finger at Alejandro. “Ask your precious heiress why she was kissing my fiance.”

Alejandro lowered his head, refusing to meet anyone's gaze, while Carmen stepped smoothly to Martina's side, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.

“Rivera, darling,” Carmen murmured softly, “Perhaps we should take Martina inside before the poor girl gets overwhelmed by Shantelle's madness.”

A bitter, hysterical laugh escaped from my lips. “Of course. Protect her. Shield your favorite daughter at all costs.”

Father took a dangerous step toward me, his brow furrowed.

“You are clearly hysterical over the inheritance decision, Shantelle. Go up to your room.”

“I am hysterical because my fiancé was sleeping with your bastard daughter!”

“ENOUGH!” Father’s shout shook the metal garage doors. “I will not have you shouting in front of the staff. Go upstairs!”

Something deep inside me went dead quiet. He wasn't asking what happened. He didn't even care about the truth.

I turned my head slowly, looking directly into Alejandro’s eyes. “How long?”

He swallowed hard, as he shifted his gaze towards me.

“Shantelle, please—”

“How long have you been sleeping with the bastard, Alejandro?”

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

“Three months,” Martina answered smoothly, a small, cruel smile touching her lips.

The world suddenly started spinning around me.

Three fucking months of fake smiles, of him telling me he was working late at the firm, of sudden business trips to Madrid.

Three months of him pulling his phone away whenever I walked into the room, of him flinching whenever I tried to hold his hand in public.

I had felt the distance. I noticed every tiny shift. But I had trusted him blindly. I had blamed myself, thinking I wasn't pretty enough, thin enough, or impressive enough to keep his attention.

“Three months...” I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “You let me pick out flower arrangements for our wedding while you were coming home from her bed?”

Alejandro took a desperate step forward. “Shantelle, I—I was going to tell you—”

“Don't.” My voice shook with a lethal, quiet fury.

“You don't understand the pressure I was under—”

“Do not say another goddamn word!” I snapped, stepping into his space, my chest heaving. “You don't get to explain yourself to me!”

Martina scoffed softly, adjusting the sleeves of her dress.

“You're acting like you're the only victim here, Shantelle. Alejandro was miserable with you.”

I spun around to face her.

“He is my fiancé, Martina.”

She met my gaze with an icy, unbothered stare, her chin raised high. “And so what?”

That single, arrogant word shattered the last restraint holding me back.

My right hand whipped across the distance between us before I could even register everything that just happened.

THWACK!

The sharp, stinging slap snapped Martina’s head to the side, her jet black hair flying across her face as she stumbled backward, clutching her red, burning cheek in absolute shock…

Carmen screamed. Father roared my name angrily. Alejandro gasped.

I stood there, my hand burning, my chest rising and falling in heavy gasps.

For the first time in my entire life, I didn't feel small. I didn't feel helpless. I felt a scorching rage that consumed every trace of my pain and sorrow.

Martina glared at me through her disheveled hair, her eyes wide with shock and fury. “How dare you!”

I didn't give her the satisfaction of an answer.

Instead, I reached down to my left hand. The massive, seven-carat diamond ring felt heavy, cold, and disgusting against my skin. It was no more a symbol of love, but like a padlock.

I yanked it off my finger, damaging my nail in the process, and threw it with all my strength straight at Alejandro’s face.

It struck him hard against his chest before hitting the dirty concrete floor.

He stared at the glittering diamond sitting in the dust, then looked up at me, his eyes wide with sudden panic.

“Shantelle... please. I made a terrible mistake.”

“A mistake you say?” I laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “You didn't mistakenly slip and fall onto her lips for three months, Alejandro.”

He took another step toward me, his hands shaking. “I still love you. God, Shantelle, I still love you!”

“If you loved me,” I said, my voice dropping into a cold tone that made him freeze in his tracks, “you wouldn't have needed three months of betraying me to remember it.”

Behind him, Martina was breathing heavily, her face twisted in rage, while my father stepped between us, his face purple with fury.

“That is absolute finality!” Father thundered, his fist clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. “You have humiliated this family for the last time tonight!”

I looked at the man who had given me half my DNA, feeling a strange, distant pity for him.

“It was always about 'this family,' wasn't it, Father?” My voice trembled, but I didn't break.

“Never about me. Do you have any idea what I’ve spent my whole life trying to do? I starved myself for your compliments. I threw away my passion for your respect. I sliced away pieces of my soul just hoping that one day, you would look at me and say I was enough.”

Hot tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, but I didn't wipe them away.

“But I was never going to be enough for you. Because I wasn't a mirror for your vanity.”

Father stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, he was silenced by the absolute raw truth hanging between us.

“So I’m done trying,” I whispered, taking a step backward.

“Shantelle—”

“No!” I shook my head violently. “You took away my inheritance tonight? Fine. Keep it. You gave my position to her? Fine. Let her carry your fake legacy. You chose her over me?” I looked at Alejandro, whose face was completely pale. “You can have her.”

I turned my back on them and walked toward the grand iron archway leading out of the courtyard.

Near the security booth, Miss Katrina, the head housekeeper who had sneaked me extra bread when I was a little girl, stood trembling in her uniform.

Tears streamed down her wrinkled face as she held my leather purse and phone out to me with shaking hands.

I stopped in front of her, forcing a soft, grateful smile through my tears.

“Thank you, Miss Kat. For everything.”

She placed the items in my hands, squeezing my fingers tightly. “Where will you go, child? It’s pouring rain outside.”

I squeezed her hand back, feeling the gentle warmth of the only real comfort left in this house. “Anywhere but here.”

I pulled my hand away and turned toward the massive, black iron gates separating the estate from the main road.

“If you walk out of those gates tonight, Shantelle, don't you dare think about coming back!” Father’s voice roared from behind me, echoing off the stone walls of the driveway.

“You leave this property without a single González asset! Not a cent! Not a car! Nothing!”

I stopped at the edge of the threshold.

Slowly, I turned around. Standing under the warm, golden lights of the mansion were the four people who had spent my entire life convincing me I was weak and broken.

My father. My stepmother. My stepsister. My fiancé.

And in that freezing night air, as the first heavy drops of rain began to fall against my skin, a profound sense of freedom washed over me.

They had taken my mother's memory, my passion, my inheritance, and my partner.

They had nothing left to threaten me with…

“Shantelle!” Father called out, his voice laced with a desperate, lingering need for control. “You will regret this! You will come crawling back!”

I looked at the massive mansion towering behind them, a beautiful, expensive prison.

“For years now ever since that bitch Carmen entered our lives, I tried to become a González worthy of your love,” I said, my voice could be heard clearly over the sound of the intense storm.

“But tonight, I finally realized something.”

I reached out and pushed the heavy iron gate open, letting the cold wind rush past me.

“I don't need your name to know who I am.” I took a step across the boundary, stepping out onto the public pavement.

“My name is Shantelle.

And as of tonight... I renounce the González bloodline!.”

I grabbed the heavy iron bar and slammed it shut with a deafening metallic clang.

Leaving me standing alone in the rain. Finally, completely free…