The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back
Chapter 207: I don’t need help

Chapter 207: I don’t need help

"Maria... I know about Daniel. About what he did to you. I understand why it happened. But if you want us to help you, you need to write a statement. Everything. No holding back. You have to let us tell your story."

Maria looked up, disbelief swimming in her bloodshot eyes. Her voice wavered.

"Why... why would you help me? After everything I’ve done?" April exhaled, leaning against the cold bars.

"Because nobody helped you when they should’ve. And it stops here." The cell smelled of old metal and damp walls, the kind of place where hope came to die. Maria sat there, eyes hollow but defiant, like a woman who’d already made peace with her damnation.

Rafael stood on the other side of the bars, his voice calm, steady, threading through the air like silk over jagged glass.

"Maria... listen to me. We can fight this. Maybe not wipe it clean, but you don’t have to go down like this. Not when you had every right to defend yourself."

But Maria shook her head, a slow, weary motion. That sad, small smile she wore was the same one he’d seen on too many faces of survivors — a smile that said I’ve stopped believing in rescue.

"No, sir," she whispered, her voice brittle as frost. "I’m guilty. Of all of it. I killed him. I meant to. And maybe... maybe I should’ve done it sooner." Her hands trembled in her lap, but she didn’t look away.

"I deserve this. And you—" she raised her chin a little, voice gaining a shred of the old Maria, the girl from before the bruises and broken ribs— "you have no business saving people like me."

Rafael clenched his jaw, anger flashing in his chest, not at her, but at everything that led to this moment. "You didn’t deserve any of what he did to you," he shot back. "You fought for your life. That’s not a crime. That’s survival."

Maria’s eyes glistened, but she refused to let the tears fall. "It doesn’t matter. I already made my peace." She stood abruptly as the guard locked her cell.

Rafael opened his mouth to say more, to reach for whatever fragile thread might still tether her to hope, but she was already walking away. Already gone.

She didn’t even look back. And for the first time in a long while, Rafael felt helpless.

A man drowning in someone else’s storm. But he wasn’t done. Not yet.

He left the prison with a fire in his chest. Maria might be ready to rot in that cell, but Rafael Daiz wasn’t the kind of man to give up on people who’d already given up on themselves.

—

The sun crawled lazily through Mara’s curtains, indifferent to the storm gnawing at her bones. She hadn’t slept—not really. The flight had been a long stretch of turbulent skies and even rougher thoughts. By the time she stepped into her house, the twins were already awake, little whirlwinds of energy, oblivious to the darkness chasing their mother’s heart.

Mara dropped her bag by the door and scooped them both into her arms like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth.

"Mama missed you so, so much," she murmured, kissing the crowns of their heads.

Their laughter was soft, their tiny hands clutching her hair as though they could feel something wasn’t quite right.

As the nanny helped get them ready for school, Mara moved toward the kitchen where she heard hushed voices. Steve and Stefan.

She paused just beyond the archway, their words threading through the air like thin cracks in glass.

"I’m telling you, Steve, you can’t just ignore it," Stefan was saying, his voice low, tense.

"It’s none of your business," Steve shot back, a defensive edge sharpening his tone. "Drop it, Stefan."

"Those test results—"

"That’s enough," Steve cut him off sharply. Mara stepped into the room, her voice gentle but firm. "What test results?"

Both men stiffened. Stefan looked at Steve like You deal with this, and Steve forced a tight, too-bright smile.

"Nothing. Just some paperwork for work. You know, routine stuff."

Mara narrowed her eyes; she wasn’t an idiot, and they both knew it. But something in Steve’s face made her hesitate. Pale, drawn, beads of sweat at his hairline, though the morning wasn’t hot.

She opened her mouth to press, to demand answers, but Steve shook his head subtly. Not now.

Mara let it slide. For now. But the dread stayed.

Mara sat in the passenger seat, the morning sun soft against the windshield, the twins’ excited chatter about class toys and lunchbox trades weaving around her like background static. She smiled where she was supposed to, nodding on cue, but her mind was far from the car, far from juice boxes and spelling bees.

No sign of Ethan this morning. A small mercy.

No early morning theatrics. No smug remarks. No games. Just peace — fragile and temporary, but peace nonetheless.

As soon as the school gates swallowed the kids, Mara let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The car didn’t head for home. Instead, with a sharp turn and a new destination in her GPS, she told the driver to take her to the family doctor’s clinic.

She grabbed her phone, thumb hovering over Rafael’s name. She dialed. It rang. And rang.

No answer. Of course.

She switched to voice note, her words soft but edged with exhaustion. "I arrived this morning and had to drop the twins at school. Heading somewhere before I go home. Call me."

Her finger was about to hit send when another name flashed on the screen.

Caleb.

Her stomach twisted. Not now. Not ever. Without hesitation, she declined the call, opened his contact, and blocked the number. A long time coming, really. He should be grateful she hadn’t pressed charges. The things she could’ve done — the things she still might.

Her phone buzzed again. Ethan. A flood of messages. Unread. Unwanted.

Mara didn’t even open them. She stared at his name, felt the old ache stir in her chest, then dropped the phone into her bag like it was something diseased. If only she could block them all.

If only there were a way to scrape the clingy, desperate men from her life like old paint, leaving only clean, untouched walls. But no — today wasn’t about them.

Today was about Steve. Her brother. The one person who mattered in the way that counted. Something was wrong with him, she felt it, deep in her bones. And she wasn’t leaving that clinic until she had answers.

Mara straightened in her seat, her reflection in the window suddenly harder, sharper.

Dr. Keller looked startled when she barged into his office unannounced.

"Miss Shepherd," he blinked. "Is everything alright?"