Chapter 7 Chapter 7 — Name That Must Not Be Mentioned

Adrielle Hale

“Did you know about this?” My question is direct.

Lyla doesn’t look away from me, but sighs deeply, giving me answers to my doubts.

“He arrived in Los Angeles this morning.”

Great, what great friends I have!

Even though I know he arrived in Los Angeles today, I was hoping Lyla would tell me something she knew. I feel like she knows something, something she’s not telling me. Her eyes reveal it.

“I know, but you should have told me.” I shake my head in denial.

“How do you know? And how could I tell you something?” Lyla asks, gesturing toward me. “It’s not something I have to tell you, that’s up to Pedro.”

We’re at the hospital. Sofia felt sick during the reading of the will and fainted in the arms of her stupid sshl* of a son. I've been warning her about her high blood pressure for days, she can't get stressed or go through moments like this. Reading Max's will made her feel like this. I'm still trying to understand that he left almost half of his assets to Amanda and her children. Leonard seemed very happy about it, satisfied. I don't understand why Max would leave his assets to the people who worked with him, instead of handing everything over to his family, but these are actions I've never been able to understand. Pedro's father has always been like this, it's hard to understand his actions.

However, that's not the focus of my conversation with Lyla. We're talking about Pedro's unexpected return, which she seemed to know about as soon as I got here. Part of me wants an explanation. The other just wants him to disappear before he destroys everything again.

"Are you going to defend him? Pedro disappeared for seven years!" I can't hide the pain in my voice. "Whose side are you on?"

Lyla looks away from me, like someone who is ashamed of their actions. She's been here all these years, she's been there for all my suffering. She knows how much I suffered raising Abby alone when her father disappeared without explanation and never came back.

"If you sit down and talk to Pedro, he'll-..."

There you have it. She really knows more than she's saying, but I'm not interested in listening to Pedro.

"I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to hear his lame excuses, I don't even want to hear his name."

"You need to hear him. There are things you don't know." Her eyes look at me.

I frown, harshly. I don't want to hear answers full of lies and illusions. Not again.

"I'm going to take care of Sofia because she's been here all these years, she supported me when I was pregnant with Abby. But I won't do anything more than that." I answer firmly.

I don't expect her to continue this subject. We're in Sofia's room, who's in bed, sleeping. Her heartbeat is returning to normal as the minutes go by. I'll monitor her for a few hours and then send her home. If Pedro and I stay in the same place, we'll argue about things from the past and that will affect her. I don't want to relive those stupid memories. Liar. That's what Pedro is. He swears his love one moment, and the next he disappears without a trace.

He broke my heart. And now that I'm rebuilding it, he can't come back.

I make my way out of the room, my intention is to warn Bruno about Sofia's condition, but I refuse to exchange a single word with Pedro. They are in the waiting room. Bruno is standing in a corner of the harmonious white room. The liar is sitting, mumbling something. His head is resting on his firm hands. Pedro now looks different from the man he used to be. His appearance is different. He is unkempt, has a big beard and his hair is long, like Max's. The thick strands are thrown back, like someone trying to keep up the image. It is slightly wavy. Pedro seems to have lost body mass, but he still has a good physique. His muscles were big back then, but now they seem even more prominent due to his near malnutrition.

“How is she?” Bruno asks, as soon as he notices that I have entered the room.

Pedro raises his head, with his clear eyes focused on mine, but he doesn’t say a single word. I prefer it to stay that way.

“It’s her blood pressure, it’s high. I warned you that she shouldn’t go through stress.” I cross my arms under my chest. “I told her that too. We gave Sofia a sedative, she’s resting now, but you can see her in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Miss Hale.” Bruno says, with a relieved tone.

Bruno still calls me that. By my maiden name. He’s one of the few who does that. Since I married Leonard, I adopted his last name and people only call me that. But I like my last name, my family name.

Bruno alternates his gaze between me and Pedro, as if he senses the tension that I try to hide, hanging over us.

"I'll go get a coffee," he says, heading towards Pedro and heading out the door.

Pedro and I are looking at each other right now, but I don't want it to go any further. I don't want to relive it all over again. I turn to leave the room, wanting to avoid any kind of conversation with him, but his hoarse voice still gives me involuntary shivers.

"When did this happen?"

"A little while after you left."

There's no lightness in my tone, it's more of an accusation.

"When did you get married?"

I turn my head slightly, to look at him sideways.

"That's none of your business."

The armchair he was sitting in is now empty. Pedro is standing, standing right behind me.

"It's my business. I was the one you had plans to marry." His tone is heavy, cold.

I groan and turn so that we're face to face. His blue eyes stare at me, with a serious expression. I give him a fake smile, but I can't help but keep all my pain inside me.

"You're the one who left. You're the one who found another girlfriend." I throw the words Max said to me on the table when I questioned Pedro's disappearance.

His expression darkens. Now he looks angry. But the only person here who has the right to be like this is me. I was the one who was abandoned, I was the one who spent all these years without answers. I had to take care of our baby alone.

“What are you talking about?”

In another time, I would believe he was innocent, but Pedro is not. I know very well that he knows what was going on, he hasn't lost his memory. He was hanging out with women abroad, playing with their hearts just like he played with mine.

“Don't play the good Samaritan.” I retort, narrowing my eyes. “You always liked to play ‘make believe’, didn't you? You made promises of love like someone dealing cards in a dirty game. Was it always just a game to you, Pedro?”

“Adie, I don't even know what you're talking about.” His brow is furrowed, with a confused look that I used to know.

“Don't you dare call me that!”