Chapter 7

Bella’s POV

The drive back from my hometown was quiet, but for the first time, the silence did not feel heavy. I held my grandmother's handwritten note in my coat pocket, feeling the crisp paper beneath my fingertips. Next to me, Maximo drove with one hand on the wheel.

Every so often, he reached over to squeeze my knee, making sure I was still grounded. When we arrived at his estate, a team of medical professionals were already waiting in the grand living room. Maximo had hired the top specialists in the state to fix what Josh had ruined. They set up medical gear in a bright guest bedroom on the second floor, turning it into a private recovery space just for me.

The first week was hard. The doctors started a special treatment to flush the synthetic toxins out of my RH-null blood. My body fought back against the sudden shift. I spent the first few days sweating through feverish chills and fighting off deep nausea. Whenever the pain got too bad, Maximo was right there. He did not delegate my care to the maids. He sat by the edge of my bed, placing cool cloth on my forehead and holding a glass of water to my lips when my hands shook too much to hold it.

By the second week, the heavy fog in my mind began to lift. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror one morning and stared at my reflection. The pale, ghost-like blue tint on my lips was completely gone. Healthy pink color was returning to my cheeks, and the dark circles under my eyes were fading away. My limbs did not feel like lead anymore. I could walk down the long hallways without losing my breath.

With my physical strength returning, my mind turned toward the future. I knew nothing about running a business, but I had a textile factory to rebuild.

******

One night as we were about to go to sleep, I caught Maximo watching me. His gray eyes were warm, filled with a quiet pride that made my heart flutter.

“I don’t want to be tricked again” I whispered.

Maximo leaned in close, placing his hand over mine on the desk. "No one will ever trick you again. You are stronger than you think."

He leaned down and kissed me gently. It was not like the wild, desperate kisses we shared on the night we met at the bar. This kiss was slow, deep, and full of care. For the first time in my life, I felt safe while being kissed. There were no hidden motives.

There was no shadow of Josh hanging over us. It was just Maximo showing me that I mattered to him.

By the third week, my recovery was complete. The doctors ran one final round of blood tests and declared that the experimental drugs were entirely purged from my system. My RH-null blood was clean again.

That same evening, a small envelope arrived in the mail. It was a formal invitation to Josh's wedding, sent to Maximo as a member of the Volkov family. Josh was marrying Calista in just three days, holding a lavish ceremony at the grandest hotel downtown. He truly believed I was hiding away somewhere, dying slowly from his drug tests, leaving him free to play the happy groom.

A dark flame ignited in my chest. He had lied to his family, called me a cheat, and tried to destroy my body for his own career. He thought he had won.

"You do not have to look at that," Maximo said softly, taking the invitation from my hands and preparing to tear it up.

"No," I said, stopping his hand. "Leave it. We are going."

Maximo paused, looking at me with surprise. "Are you sure? You do not have to put yourself through that environment."

"I am not hiding like a victim anymore," I replied, my voice steady and firm. "Josh thinks he ruined me. He thinks I am weak. He needs to see that I am very much alive."

The next morning, Maximo called a high-fashion designer to the estate. Tailors brought racks of stunning gowns, expensive jewelry, and delicate heels into the parlor. I chose a breathtaking emerald green dress made of pure silk. It hugged my waist perfectly and flowed down to the floor, showing off my healthy curves and glowing skin. It was bold, elegant, and impossible to ignore.

I also worked with Maximo’s legal team to draft official divorce papers. The documents were clean, strict, and ready for signature.

On the afternoon of the wedding, I spent two hours getting ready. A stylist pinned my hair up into an elegant undo, leaving a few soft curls to frame my face. I applied subtle makeup that highlighted my eyes and brought out the natural color of my lips.

When I stepped down the main staircase, Maximo was waiting at the bottom in a sharp black tuxedo. He looked up, and his breath caught in his throat. He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes filled with absolute admiration.

"You look stunning, Bella," he said, offering me his arm. "Like a queen."

"Thank you," I smiled, sliding my arm through his. "Let us go and finish this."

I walked over to the full-length mirror in the foyer for one last check.

The woman looking back at me was not the weak, terrified girl who had stumbled out of the hospital weeks ago. She was not the desperate girl weeping on a bar stool. Her skin was glowing, her posture was tall, and her eyes held a sharp, dangerous clarity.

I picked up the manila folder resting on the table beside the mirror. Inside sat the final divorce papers. I held them firmly against my side, feeling the rough paper beneath my fingers. I took a deep, steady breath, looked at my reflection, and smiled.

I was ready.