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Melissa followed Hayden out of the hospital, the weight of the earlier conversation still hanging heavy between them. The air was thick with tension, and neither of them spoke as they walked down the pristine hallways and into the gleaming parking lot. In front of them, a sleek black Bentley sat waiting, its glossy surface reflecting the hospital's floodlights. Hayden walked briskly ahead, carrying the car keys in his hand, his long strides full of purpose. His broad shoulders were tense, and Melissa could feel the anger radiating off him even from a few steps behind.
She kept her pace slow, dreading the inevitable confrontation she sensed was coming. Her mind was racing—thoughts of her grandmother's awakening, of Ethan, and the coldness in Hayden's eyes when his name had been mentioned. It all swirled inside her, creating a storm of confusion and frustration.
As they reached the car, Hayden strode to the passenger side and yanked the door open with a swift, angry motion. He didn't say a word as he held it for her, his body rigid. Melissa hesitated for a moment, watching his clenched jaw, the simmering anger he was barely containing. Just as she was about to step inside, Hayden's arm shot out, blocking her from entering.
Melissa looked up at him, startled, and their eyes met—his cold and demanding, hers defiant and unyielding.
"And who is Ethan?" Hayden asked, his voice low but firm, laced with authority. There was no warmth in his tone now, only an unmistakable command.
Melissa's heartbeat quickened, but she forced herself to remain composed. She had been expecting this question ever since her grandmother had uttered that name, but that didn't make it any easier to answer. She squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze without flinching.
"Someone who cares about me," she said, her voice strong, refusing to show weakness. Her words were laced with an underlying challenge, daring Hayden to react.
For a moment, Hayden didn't respond. His eyes darkened, but his expression remained unreadable, as if he were weighing her answer in his mind. Then, with a sharp exhale, he stepped aside, allowing her to enter the car. He didn't say anything as she slid into the seat, but the door closed behind her with a firm, deliberate thud.
Melissa let out a small breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on her lap. She glanced through the tinted window, watching as Hayden circled the car to the driver's side. He climbed in, slamming his door shut with more force than necessary, the car shaking slightly from the impact.
The silence between them was suffocating as Hayden started the car, the soft purr of the engine doing nothing to ease the tension in the air. Melissa stared out the window, her heart still pounding, her emotions swirling with resentment and frustration. She wasn't just angry with Hayden—she was angry with the situation, with the life she had found herself trapped in.
As they pulled out of the hospital parking lot, Hayden's voice broke the silence, calm yet cold. "Once you provide Elijah with a grandson," he said, keeping his eyes on the road, "we can part ways."
Melissa turned her head toward him, her face twisted with disbelief. His words were said with such casual detachment, as if they were discussing a simple business transaction. It stung, though she wasn't surprised. It was just another reminder of how little control she had over her own life now. But what angered her more was the certainty in Hayden's voice—the way he seemed so assured that this was the only path for her.
Hayden kept his gaze forward, but there was something distant in his expression, as though he, too, was weighed down by the arrangement. "But don't worry," he continued, his tone devoid of emotion. "You'll inherit money and protection."
Melissa scoffed angrily, shaking her head. "I don't want any of those things," she snapped, her voice thick with bitterness. "Not you, not the money, not the protection. I just want my old peaceful life with Nana back!"
Hayden's grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. For a moment, he didn't respond, but his jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening with restrained anger. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a growl.
"You're going to want protection," he said, glancing at her briefly, his eyes hard and unyielding. "You see, Melissa, the moment you married me, you became the enemy of our enemies. There are people out there who would love nothing more than to see you hurt just to get to us."
Melissa's stomach twisted at his words. She had heard rumors, whispers of the enemies the Torex gang had made over the years, but hearing it from Hayden's own mouth made it all the more real. She stared at him, her resentment still simmering, but beneath it, there was a growing sense of unease.
The car fell silent again as they drove through the darkened streets. Melissa's thoughts swirled, her mind racing with what Hayden had said. Part of her wanted to fight back, to scream that she didn't care about his enemies or their dangerous world. But another part of her—the part that was beginning to understand the gravity of her situation—knew that his warning wasn't one to be taken lightly.
Suddenly, Hayden reached into the back seat, breaking her train of thought. He pulled a shopping bag into his lap and handed it to her, his voice flat as he said, "Here."
Melissa frowned, taking the bag from him, her curiosity piqued. She opened it cautiously, peeking inside. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the contents—a luxurious, floor-length gown, its fabric shimmering even in the dim light of the car. The dress was a deep crimson, elegant and striking, with intricate lace detailing that ran along the bodice.
"This is what you're wearing for the party tonight," Hayden said, his tone matter-of-fact, as if handing her a dress was just another task on his list.
Melissa pulled the dress out slightly, letting the silky material slide through her fingers. It was beautiful, but the weight of what it symbolized settled heavily on her shoulders. This wasn't just a dress—it was a reminder of the life she had been forced into, of the expectations placed on her by Hayden, Elijah, and their world.
She swallowed hard, her voice soft but laced with defiance. "I'm not some pawn in your little game," she said, staring down at the dress with a mixture of disdain and sadness.
Hayden didn't respond at first. His eyes remained on the road, his face unreadable. But after a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice quieter than before.
"No, you're not," he said. "But in this world, you either play the game or get crushed by it."
Melissa's heart clenched at his words. She hated that they rang true. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of the dress as she stared out the window again, her reflection staring back at her in the glass. A woman trapped in a life she didn't choose, married to a man she didn't love, and now, expected to play her role in their dangerous, twisted game.
As they continued driving, the weight of it all pressed down on her, suffocating and inescapable. She thought of her grandmother, still lying in that hospital bed, unaware of the mess Melissa's life had become. She thought of Ethan, a ghost from her past that she had long buried but who still haunted her thoughts. And she thought of Hayden—cold, calculating Hayden—who had become the center of her world, whether she wanted him to be or not.