When Felix found out, he lost it.
I had never seen him like that. His eyes were red, his whole body shaking with rage.
“I’m gonna fucking kill her! I swear to God, Danica, I’ll tear her apart piece by piece!”
I was bleeding. Dying. And I still grabbed him. “Felix… don’t,” I begged. “Please… don’t do it.”
He looked at me like he didn’t understand why I was stopping him but he listened.
He always listened to me.
Instead of killing her, he locked her up. Somewhere no one could find. And every day, he made sure she paid for what she did.
“Anyone who touches you,” he told me once, holding my face so gently it hurt, “I’ll make them wish they were dead. I’ll make them suffer a thousand times worse.”
That was Felix Gallardo.
Cruel. Violent. Unforgiving.
But never to me. Never.
So how… how could he marry her on the same day she destroyed me?
My phone buzzed in my hand. I stared at the screen for a long second before opening it.
[Danica, it’s our Seventh anniversary today. I’ll be back tonight. Still dealing with that crazy bitch. She won’t last much longer. Don’t wait up, I’ll wake you myself.]
Another message came right after.
[I love you.]
My throat tightened.
He always said that.
Every message. Every call. Every time he looked at me like I was the only thing in his world.
I love you.
Back then, I was just… nobody. A struggling surgeon, barely getting by. And him… he was untouchable. Rich, powerful, dangerous.
And he chose me.
He chased me like I was something precious. Flew across countries just to see me for a few hours. Bought out entire streets just to light fireworks for me. Sent me flowers so rare I couldn’t even pronounce their names.
When I got sick, he dropped everything and came back just to cook for me himself, cursing the whole time because he didn’t know how to hold a spoon properly.
“Eat,” he’d grumble, shoving the bowl toward me. “I didn’t fucking fly ten hours for you to starve.”
When I was upset, he’d pause meetings with men who could ruin lives with a word.
“Wait,” he’d say, holding up a hand. Then he’d call me. “What’s wrong? Who pissed you off? Tell me their name, I'll burn them to hell.”
And when someone threw acid at me out of jealousy, he didn’t hesitate. He stepped in front of me like it was instinct.
His back got burned. Blood everywhere.
And he just held me and whispered, “Hey… hey, don’t cry. I got you. You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”