Chapter 3 - The Unholy AllianceThe realization of betrayal had shifted something inside Ricardo. The shock was gone, replaced by a cold, surgical determination.
“We can’t stay here,” Marta whispered urgently, looking through the crack in the door. “Marcus’s driver is parked down the lane. If he sees your rental car outside, the whole house will go on lockdown.”
“My rental car is parked two blocks away under the trees,” Ricardo said softly. “I walked the rest of the way because I wanted to surprise her.” He let out a dark, quiet scoff. “Irony.”
“How do we get out?” Marta asked.
“The wine cellar service door leads straight to the garage alley,” Ricardo instructed. “Follow me, keep your shoes off, and don't touch any light switches.”
Moving like ghosts, the billionaire and his maid slipped out of the coat closet, creeping down the carpeted hallway into the basement stairs. Ricardo knew every inch of the mansion he had built, while Marta knew every lock and latch.
When they opened the heavy oak service door at the rear of the estate, the icy December night air hit their faces like a cold wake-up call. The wind howled through the manicured hedges, masking the sound of their footsteps on the gravel driveway.
They reached Ricardo’s black sedan parked discreetly under a row of pine trees down the street. Ricardo unlocked the doors, and both of them got inside, pulling the doors shut without slamming them.
Inside the quiet safety of the car, Marta finally collapsed into tears, burying her face in her hands. “I was so scared, Don Ricardo. I thought they were going to kill you tonight.”
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Ricardo turned the key, the engine humming quietly to life. He looked at Marta, seeing her shaking shoulders and the dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes.
“They tried,” Ricardo said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, confident register. “But they failed. From this moment on, Marta, you don't go back to that house. You’re coming with me.”
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