Carmen’s POV

"GUARDS!" The man yelled.

When he called the men back into the room, He uttered a single command: “Take the boy.”

It didn’t register at first, not until the men began to walk towards me. I felt Kethan’s fingers clutch at my dress, small and warm, and the sound that left my throat didn’t sound like me at all.

“No.” I grabbed Kethan’s arm and pulled him close until his little face pressed against my dress. “You’re not taking my son!”

The men in black hesitated, but their boss's eyes flared in anger and that was all it took. They started coming towards me again, and my voice broke into something wild and sharp as I shouted, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Kethan began to cry, calling for me. I felt his tiny fingers dig into my arm, and I held on tighter. Every heartbeat felt like my heart wanted to tear its way through me. The room was filled with noise of their boots stomping, my own panting breath, the rustle of my dress as I fought to keep my son near.

“Let him go, woman!” The man ordered again. "Or I will order them to use force."

“You monster... don’t do this!” I wailed as tears poured down my face in rivulets. “You’re a bastard, a wicked man, a vile, vicious creature! Tell them to leave my son!”

The man silently stood there and stared at me with the faintest of smiles on his face, almost like this was entertainment. That smile made sparks fly in my head.

“You’re enjoying this,” I cried. “You actually like watching people break, don’t you?”

Kethan was still crying, his hands slipping in mine. I tried to stumble away from them, but the guards moved faster. I dragged him back toward me, shaking and sobbing, but they were stronger. One pulled my arm away while the other lifted Kethan off the ground. I heard his scream and felt it cut right through me as they carried him toward the door.

"Mommy! Mommy!" My son cried over and over again.

“Give him to the female servants,” the man commanded his guards. “He’ll be safe until we’re done here.”

Safe? Where in this shit hole of a mansion was safe for my child?!

The door shut behind the men, and the silence after my son's crying stopped hurt even more than the noise. I turned back to him, my throat burning. And without thinking, I spat in his face.

The man's face froze immediately. He wiped the spit off slowly, and I saw the way he gritted his teeth, but that quiet amusement didn’t leave his eyes.

"Wow!" He breathed out. "You're a real firecracker, aren't you?"

Those words made something in me snap. My hand lifted before I even knew what I was doing, and it landed hard against his cheek.

He didn’t react, not really. Just caught my wrist as I went for another smack and growled, “Enough!”

His lips curled in a snarl as he continued. "I see I have been too gentle with you. Perhaps you'd understand more with some alone time!"

Then he adjusted his grip on my wrist and dragged me out of the room. I stumbled, my feet barely staying on the ground as we moved through the long hallway. My breath came out in sobs. He didn’t look at me once.

When he opened another door and shoved me inside, the sound of it slamming behind me echoed down the corridor.

I stood there for a moment as the walls started tilting in and out of focus. Then everything gave way. My knees hit the floor, my palms covering my face as the tears came.

I couldn’t tell if I was crying for my son, for myself or for how easily everything I knew had collapsed in a single night. Only hours ago, I had been the Don’s fiancée, trapped but still alive, still holding onto something that looked like stability. Now I was accused of his murder. I was a stranger’s prisoner, and my child was somewhere beyond these walls without me.

And that man who had ordered for them to take my child... Something was inherently familiar about his face, and only one answer kept coming to me: That must be Kethan's father.

I pressed my forehead to the floor and whispered Kethan’s name until my voice turned into a pitiful croak. It felt like the whole world had narrowed down to that single sound of my son’s crying as he was carried away.

********

I heard the door open again and quickly wiped my tears with the back of my hand. The last thing I wanted was for that man to come in and see me crying. I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. If he wanted to break me, he would have to try harder.

But it wasn’t him. It was a woman.

She stepped into the room, wearing a well-ironed and spotless white apron. Her blonde hair peeked out from beneath her bonnet, and her face looked like it had been made out of cold stone. She looked like she was no more than a few years older than me, maybe late twenties, but the lines on her forehead made her seem older still. The way her lips slimmed into a thin line when her eyes found me. It felt like she’d just caught a rat in her kitchen and it made my stomach turn.

Without a word, she walked across the room and dropped my small bag on the dresser. The sound of it hitting the wood felt louder than it should have.

“Master Rhysand has instructed that I stay with you,” she grunted. “To make sure you have everything you need.”

I stared at her in surprise. So that was his name. Rhysand.

“Oh,” I murmured. “So that’s what the devil calls himself.”

Her eyes snapped to mine and her face was cold and furious, but I didn’t stop. I was too angry, too tired and too far gone to care.

“Go back to your precious Master Rhysand and tell him he can shove his help right where it belongs: in his ass!" I growled in her face.

To her credit, the woman didn't look affronted. She merely scoffed, gave me a long look from head to toe, the kind people give when they’re sure they’re better than you, then turned on her heel and marched out. She slammed the door behind her.

The moment she was gone, I threw myself to my feet and rushed towards the dresser. My hands flew to my bag, pulling at the zipper until it burst open. My phone was somewhere inside, I just had to find it.

It was the night of the wedding that was supposed to happen. My wedding to the don. But instead of walking down some marble aisle, my fiance was dead and I was here, locked in a room and branded a murderer.

My fingers closed around the phone, and I pulled it out. There was only one number I could call: home.

I hesitated, staring at the screen for a few seconds. My reflection looked back at me, and my eyes were swollen with shed tears. Then I pressed call before I could change my mind.

It rang up to four times and when it finally connected, I opened my mouth. “Mom?”

"Hello." Came the reply. But it wasn’t her voice, it was my father.

“What do you want?” He snapped at me. "You shouldn't be calling home any longer."

"Dad, I...”

“Can you hear your mother crying?” he interrupted me. And through the receiver, I really could. Her muffled sobs filled the background, and I knew that sound. I knew he was the reason for it.

"Dad, please, listen to me." I gasped out. "I didn’t kill him. I’m locked up in a room in their mansion, and... and they took Kethan away from me. Please, I need help—”

"You have the nerve to ask for help after everything you’ve done?” His voice was slowly rising. "You who has defiled this family name so many times?"

“Dad—”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Carmen,” he spat out. “Look at what you’ve done to this family. Do you even hear your mother? Do you know why she’s crying? She is crying because of you!”

Tears stung my eyes again. “But I didn’t do anything!”

"Oh, but you have been doing so much! You’ve been nothing but trouble since the day you were born. First, you get pregnant out of wedlock and bring that bastard child into this world, and now you’ve murdered a man. You’ve disgraced us beyond repair!”

"Have you forgotten that I was supposed to marry that man because of debts you owed him?" I asked. "Debts that had nothing to do with me? How is that my fault?"

My father did not even bother to reply me. My knees wobbled, and I gripped the edge of the dresser to stay upright. “Please, just let me talk to Mom. She’ll believe me. Please, dad. That is all I ask.”

“No.” He grunted. “You’ll leave your mother out of this, do you hear me? Haven’t you hurt her enough?”

“Dad, please, I’m begging you...”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you!” He growled. “You want to live like a curse, fine. You’re on your own now. I’ve washed my hands off you, and so has the rest of this family!”

I could barely breathe. “Oh, Dad...”

“You belong to the Castellanos now, and I hope they give you the justice you deserve.”

Then the line went dead.

I could not move for a few seconds after that. The phone was still pressed to my ear. The quiet on the other end burned louder than anything he had said, and I could still hear my mother’s crying echoing inside my head.

Slowly, the phone slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.

I sank to my knees and stared at the cracks in the wooden floor. The tears didn’t come this time, because I was emptied out and hollow. All hope was lost.