Page 42 of Shattered Queens: Veronica
The idea of someone else standing guard over her, someone else being her shadow, turns my stomach. Maybe Gabe is right. Maybe I’m too close. But if that’s true, why does the thought of walking away feel more like a loss? My phone vibrates, and I see the name on the screen: Tia Susana. She never calls unless it’s an emergency; usually, she sends me a message because she knows I have such a busy schedule.
I answer, my voice tight with panic. “Tia, que pasa?”
“Nada, mijo,” she says, though her voice lacks its usual spark. “I was just thinking of you. Y pues, no me he sentido bien.”
Her admitting that she doesn’t feel well is terrifying. My Tia Susana is the type to walk off a broken ankle. “Tia, how long have you been feeling this way?”
Silence stretches across the line. “Just a couple of days,” she finally whispers.
“You know that doesn't make me happy,” I say, my tone hardening with a sternness I rarely use with her. “You need to take better care of yourself. I’m leaving in a couple of hours.”
I hang up, my mind racing. These dizzy spells have become more frequent over the last few months; they aren't just "spells" anymore, they are a pattern. She hates doctors, but she’s going to see one whether she likes it or not.
I quickly update Gabe on the change of plans. My trip home is no longer a casual visit; it is an emergency. Next, I call Tomas. He isn't just a friend, he’s a damn good doctor, and I need him to examine her. He agrees to accompany me to Colombia, but we aren’t leaving until later in the morning. He has an important surgery he can’t walk away from. So I wait.
I check the time and realize Veronica headed into the office early, no doubt to catch up on everything she missed. She hasn't answered a single one of my calls or messages, which means she has no idea I’m about to leave the country. I could just send an email to let her know I'll be gone, but the thought sits heavy in my chest. If I do that, I lose the chance to actually talk to her, to look her in the eyes and see how she’s really doing. The distance between us is already growing, and despite my harsh words, the truth is that she and Cam were forming a friendship I hadn't expected. Now, leaving like this feels like I'm cementing a mistake I'm not sure I can fix from another continent. Checking my watch, I see Istill have a few hours before takeoff. I decide to head to Nina’s Hope; there’s no way she can avoid me when I'm standing right in front of her.
Minutes later, I step inside. The scale of the building is staggering. It’s hard to fathom how a kickboxing gym owner and a VP of Finance secured the massive funding required to get this place running, but they pulled it off. A faint smile ghosts my lips at the thought of the impact Veronica is having here.
After checking in with Lana at the front desk, she escorts me to the conference room that Veronica has claimed as her work zone. Through the glass, I see her buried in documents. She’s deep in focus; her nose scrunches, and her eyebrows furrow in that way I’ve come to know. I can’t bring myself to interrupt just yet, so I linger in the doorway, watching her. The woman in front of me is a vast contradiction to the one my friend examined. What is she hiding? The thought makes me sick because if Tomas is right and there are drugs involved, then I failed to protect her.
Sensing my gaze, she looks up, her features instantly stiffening as if she’s bracing for a battle. She doesn’t move, so I go to her, like I always have. I cross the threshold and enter the office, stopping directly across from her. I grip the back of the chair to ground myself.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice cold.
I sigh. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I needed to check on you. The other night, I said things that…well, I—” I look into those clear blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called your brother like that, and I definitely shouldn't have brought your mother into this. That was a shitty thing to do.”
“Is this your attempt to make yourself feel better?”
“No,” I stammer. “I came here to apologize.”
“Well, you did. Now you can leave. This isn't a scheduled meeting, and I’ll see you in a couple of days,” she retorts, already looking back down at her papers.
“Are you kicking me out?” My defensive side begins to flare.
“I have a meeting. I don’t have time for this.” She motions dismissively between us.
“You don’t have time for me? You’ve been avoiding me for fucking days, and now, when I come to apologize, which, for your information, I rarely do, you just brush me aside?”
She stands abruptly, her defiance radiating off her in waves. “What do you want me to say? Thank you for lying to me for months? Thank you for throwing my biggest shame in my face? Thank you for making me feel insignificant?” She pauses, struggling to catch her breath, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and hurt. It’s a miracle no one outside has heard us yet.
“What, Cam? Or whoever you are,” she spits. “I don’t even know what to call you anymore.”
I close the distance between us, standing directly in front of her. I take a sharp inhale, trying to steady my pulse because this conversation is spiraling fast. Her scent hits me instantly, overpowering my senses, a familiar mix of vanilla and something unique to her.
"It’s Miles," I say, my voice dropping. "And guess what, Princesa? You have no choice. Remember, you came to me for help.” The words are out before I can catch them. I feel the instant gut punch of regret for using her own actions against her.
She flinches as if I’ve slapped her, but her eyes remain icy. "You’re right," she whispers, the bitterness in her voice cutting deeper than a blade. "I’ll just add that to the list of my biggest mistakes.”
I want her to explain, to know who or what else is on that list, but I don't pry. Not now. Not when I can see that I’ve just cemented my place at the very top of it.
"I have to go out of the country for a couple of days," I say, suddenly shifting the tone. "My aunt isn’t feeling well, so I need to go check on her."
The fire in her eyes flickers, replaced by genuine surprise. “Yo-your aunt?”
“Yes.”
I don't wait for her to process the fact that I actually have a life outside of this. I turn to leave, but I nearly collide with Berenice and her roommate, Abel. Berenice looks directly at me, and I see the moment recognition hits her. My gaze shifts to the man next to her—Abel. The same man who waits tables at the sex club where I meet Gemma. I watch a slow, knowing smile spread across his face, reaching his eyes. He knows exactly who I am and exactly where he’s seen me.
