The Foiled Plan (War of Sins Book 2)

The wind is knocked out of me as the doctor lists her injuries.

‘Can I…’ I swallow hard, a huge fucking lump forming in my throat. ‘Can I take a look at her medical file?’

‘I’m not sure,’ he frowns, but a little more coaxing and I find myself in a secluded corner reading through her medical file while the doctor performs the ultrasound.

And what I read has the power to lay me on my ass.

Second and third degree burns on her back.

Fractured ulna.

Fractured tibia.

Hairline fracture on her right hip.

Concussion and swelling of the temporal lobe.

I take a deep breath as I realize why she would have memory issues. Because someone fucking bashed her head so hard they had to add pieces of metal to keep her skull together.

And then there’s the worst…

Crushed larynx.

I’m getting sick to my stomach the more I read through the notes, especially when I get to the other observations.

Poorly healed ribs, fractures and other broken bones.

All speaking of ongoing and repeated abuse.

Then there are the internal injuries. They’d had to do an emergency surgery to remove the retained placenta and they’d also ended up performing a splenectomy because her spleen was about to burst.

The more I read, the more I wish to God the earth would open up and swallow me whole. Because as it stands… I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for the way I’ve treated her

As I swipe to the next page, it’s to see up close pictures of her battered body and the many injuries she’d sustained.

She looks almost dead, every inch of her a combination of blue and purple. And to think I contributed to that… That those are my handprints on her lovely throat…

I close the file, a low tremor going through my body as disgust at myself fills me to the brim.

I’ve always thought myself a strong person considering what I went through and how I overcame my condition. After all, I went through hell and I came back. And though I suffered horrors during my time in captivity, never once did I shed a tear.

Not like now.

My eyes are misty and I feel a tear roll down my cheek, the thought of Noelle hurt and in pain proving to be my undoing.

I take a moment to center myself, trying to pull myself together and be there for her now. Because I may not be able to alter the past—including the fucked up way I treated her—but I can alter the present.

My breathing grows labored as my mind doesn’t want to obey me, visions of her slight body so damaged and battered killing me. More than anything, there’s a deep anguish at knowing what she’s been through and the trauma that no one bothered to acknowledge.

Is this how her own family treated her? How could they?

How the fuck could they?

Surely Cisco must have seen her file. How could he knowingly treat her like that when she’s suffered what grown men would balk at?

She’s so frail…so fucking small. How could she have withstood everything?

How?

Then there’s also the other question. What about her baby?

And for that, I’m afraid there’s only one answer.

Dead.

The baby must have died.

Anger unlike any other erupts inside of me at the thought of Noelle alone and defenseless, giving birth in that dump that was the hacienda without anyone to help her. Without anyone to care for her.

A deep pain that lodges itself inside of me at the thought of anyone touching her—in anger or in any way.

‘There you are,’ the doctor shakes me from my thoughts, and giving him back the file with a grimace, I await the diagnosis.

‘We found a lot of scar tissue on her uterine walls, and she is currently menstruating, so there is a high chance that is the source of the pain. Regular menstrual cramps combined with endometriosis often result in acute abdominal pain. ‘

I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral as I hear his explanation.

‘Has she complained of pain during intercourse?’ He suddenly asks and I blink, unprepared for that question. But he doesn’t give me the opportunity to reply as he goes on. ‘You might want to watch out for that too. Penetration could be very uncomfortable at certain times of the month,’ he continues to string together some medical terms I’ve never heard of, but my head whips at him when he says something that fucking kills me.

‘There is a chance she won’t be able to have children again. There are some surgeries that could help clean the endometriosis, but unfortunately,’ he pauses, a depressing look on his face. ‘Her condition is on the extreme end of the spectrum, so IVF treatments might not work.’

I keep myself still, his words washing through me and hitting me like a fucking tornado.

‘I see,’ is all I answer—all I can answer.

Thanking the doctor, I make my way to her salon.

Still out from the pain medication, she has a serene look on her face.

I move slowly, taking one step at a time until I reach her side. Pulling a chair next to the bed, I take her hand in mine, once more marveling at the size disparity.

How could anyone so dainty survive such horrors?

My mind simply can’t wrap around that, and as I continue to watch her, I realize that any attempt at visualizing her beaten, and in a pool of blood, just about sends me off the rails.

Holding on tightly, I let her warmth seep into my skin—evidence she’s still alive.

I don’t know how much time passes, but I don’t let go—I can’t let go. It’s only when I hear her soft voice utter my name that I ground myself back into the present.

‘Raf?’ her eyes flutter open as she gazes at me in confusion.

Once more, I’m struck by her sheer beauty. Even pale from pain, she still looks absolutely stunning, her eyes big and luminous, especially when she turns them to me.

‘How are you feeling?’ I ask, my voice clogged with emotion. Still, I try to rein it in lest I worry her too.

‘Better now,’ she sighs, slowly pulling herself in a sitting position.

‘Has this happened before?’ I inquire gently.

The doctor had suggested that due to the damage caused by the endometriosis, it couldn’t have been the first time.

She gives a brisk nod, her expression clouded.

‘Not to this extent. I’ve always been able to bear it before.’

‘You shouldn’t have,’ I frown. ‘Haven’t you told anyone?’

There’s the barest shake of her head.

‘I didn’t want them to think I was doing it for attention,’ she shrugs, such a forlorn look on her face that all I want to do is take her in my arms and never let her go.

Our hands are still linked, and her eyes suddenly drop to where our skin is touching, her brows furrowing.

‘From now on you have to tell me, Noelle. Tell me when it hurts and we’ll deal with it,’ I tell her gently, and the confusion in her eyes only intensifies.

‘Why?’ she whispers.

‘Because I said so,’ I declare, leaning back and watching her intently.

‘You can still get an annulment, you know,’ she says flippantly. ‘I told you that you bought a defective product.’

‘You’re not defective,’ I grit my teeth, annoyed she’d think that.

But that’s a thing I can’t fix overnight. I can’t change her perception of herself, just like I can’t change her perception of me and my behavior towards her.

I’ll just have to take it one step at a time.

‘Rest,’ I tell her rather forcefully. ‘After that we’re going back home.’

She looks at me wide eyed, but she doesn’t argue. So weary she is from the pain, she doesn’t even have the strength to verbally spar with me—our usual pastime.

One thing is for sure though. The moment we reach home, Cisco will have some explaining to do.

‘I thought we were going back to the holiday house,’ she says in a small voice as the car draws to a stop in front of her home—our new home.

At least temporarily.

‘No. That’s done,’ I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral.

I shut down the engine, quickly going around the car to open her door.

She seems surprised when she sees me, and for about two seconds she tries to protest as I swoop her into my arms, holding her close to my chest as I head towards the house.

‘Greta, where is Cisco?’ I ask the minute I spot the housekeeper.

‘He’s out,’ she mumbles, her eyes drifting from Noelle to me in confusion.

I nod. ‘Let me know when he returns. I’ll be on the third floor with Noelle.’

Not waiting around for her reply, I take two stairs at a time, hurrying towards the third floor.

There’s an urgent need inside of me to see her settled comfortably in her bed that nothing else matters.

True to his word, Cisco had done some quick remodeling around the third floor, adding another wall to separate the floor from the rest of the house and give it a more intimate feeling. A makeshift apartment, the floor has two bedrooms, one master bathroom and direct access to the piano room—perfect for Noelle.

Passing by one bedroom, my mind is already quick at work to think of ways to occupy it so Noelle can’t suggest we sleep separately.

If anything, now that the last barrier between us has been broken, there is absolutely nothing keeping me from her. Because underneath all my preconceived notions of her, under all those harsh biases that clouded my judgment, there’s a ravenous hunger for her.

Lucero’s image briefly enters my mind, but I shove it aside.

There will be another time to dwell on that.

‘You can let me go,’ her sweet voice interrupts my thoughts.

I look down to find her shyly staring at me, her beautiful brows furrowed in confusion.

‘Not yet,’ I grunt.

It’s only when I reach the master bedroom that I put her down, laying her on top of the crisp sheets.

She releases a soft sigh as she makes herself comfortable, and I waste no time in draping the blanket on top of her frail body, making sure she’s covered from head to toe.

She’s watching me closely, her eyes following my every move as I ensure that she’s not lacking anything.

From water, to medicine and to warm compresses, I try to think of everything she might need. When I’ve gathered them all, I organize the items on her nightstand for easy reach, from the most important to the least.

‘Raf,’ her hand comes to rest on my arm.

‘Huh?’

‘What are you doing?’ she asks softly.

‘Making sure you have everything you need,’ I answer immediately.

‘I can see that. But why?’ She tilts her head, studying me.

‘Because you’re in pain,’ I simply state.

There’s a pause as she brings her teeth over her lower lip, nibbling at it in uncertainty.

‘Raf,’ she starts, almost as if she’s preparing herself for the worst. ‘Why do you care if I’m in pain or not? Isn’t that the whole purpose of your revenge? To hurt me?’

Her question hits me right into the chest, because I can’t imagine even one scenario where I would hurt her.

Not anymore.

Fuck, but the thought of her in pain causes me pain.

There’s also the startling realization that she’s not saying this to bait me, or to start an argument. She’s genuinely surprised at my actions, and I only have to blame my brutish self for it.

Me and my fucking prejudiced self.

‘What’s the joy in kicking someone who’s already down?’ I shoot back at her, since she’s nowhere near ready for the sudden change in my behavior.

Hell, I don’t know if I am ready.

I’m only aware of this powerful need inside of me to make sure she’s well cared for, that she never lacks anything and most importantly, that she’ll never be in pain again.

Fuck me, how I wish I could take away all her suffering.

‘I see,’ she nods, and a flash of disappointment crosses her face.

‘Let me know if there’s anything else you need,’ I mumble as I back out of the room, knowing I might do something stupid if I remain in her presence.

Fuck.