Their Reign (The Rite Trilogy 3)

11

MERCEDES

“Mercedes.” A gentle hand settles over my back, and I squeeze my eyes shut, burying my face deeper into the pillow.

I don’t know how many days I’ve been at the manor now. I just know I can’t bring myself to get out of bed. I can’t stop crying. I can’t let go of the pain. But most importantly, I can’t forget Judge’s final words echoing through my mind. His declaration that he couldn’t marry me.

That simple denial haunts me, day and night. Every waking second. In my heart, I always knew it would come to this. He told me he’d never marry me, and I had prepared for it. I just didn’t expect that to be the last thing he’d ever say to me. I didn’t expect him to let me go so easily—as if it wasn’t breaking him in half the way it was breaking me. He’s rid himself of me completely, sending my things back without a protest. Not a word. Not… anything.

“Mercedes.” Antonia’s soft voice comes again as she tries to stir me from my melancholy. “Please, sweetheart. You can’t stay here forever. You need to eat.”

A fresh wave of anguish pierces my heart because I know she’s right. I can’t stay here forever. I need to pull myself together and take care of my babies. But even just the thought of getting out of bed feels like too much to accomplish.

“Antonia, can you give us a moment?”

I recognize the voice from the door as Ivy’s. She’s been to see me every day since I’ve been here, unlike Santiago. At least that’s one thing I can be grateful for. I don’t think I could take another verbal lashing from him in my current state. And while Ivy and I have always been on tenuous ground, I have to admit it’s surprised me that she hasn’t come here to gloat. She could have kicked me when I was down, and I wouldn’t blame her for it. But I don’t think that’s why she keeps showing up every day.

“Of course.” Antonia gives my shoulder one last squeeze and moves from the bed. “There’s food just there. Maybe you can get her to eat something.”

After a few moments of silence, I hear the door shut, and Ivy comes to sit in the chair next to the bed. I feel her eyes on my face, and I wonder if she thinks I’m pathetic. The old me would have cared. She would have sat up straight and made some bitchy remark to show her… and the world… that nothing gets Mercedes De La Rosa down. I’m realizing just how much I don’t care about others’ opinions anymore. That woman died somewhere between Judge’s capture and my rebirth.

“I know you’re hurting,” Ivy says, her voice quiet but firm. “And I know you aren’t the kind of woman who accepts help easily, particularly from someone like me. I think, coming to understand Santiago as I do, it’s safe to say you are another De La Rosa who found a way to thrive in chaos and pain. You learned to go it alone, and that’s admirable. But right now, you need to learn to accept help when it’s offered to you, regardless of the source.”

Her observation throws me slightly off-kilter, and I don’t want to admit that she’s right, but I can’t deny it. Santiago and I are very much the same. We were raised with brutality and a militant structure, each of us finding our own ways to cope in such an emotionally sterile environment. Mine was never allowing anyone to see me falter. Never letting my head hang for even a second. Allowing anyone to see me vulnerable was unfathomable. Even now, it pains me to consider accepting comfort in my darkest hour. But Ivy has made it clear she knows that, and still, she has no plans to go anywhere.

“It isn’t the source,” I rasp, my voice hoarse from sleeping too much. “I hold no ill will toward you anymore, Ivy. I just don’t know how to do this.”

She’s quiet for a pause, and then she surprises me by moving to sit on the bed next to me.

“I know it’s not something we can talk about easily,” she says. “But I have been where you are. I have felt what you’re feeling right now, and I almost let that darkness consume me. I wanted your brother’s love. I wanted his warmth, and I thought I would die without it. It’s the kind of pain that becomes a part of you until you think nothing can touch it. But I’m here to tell you there’s one thing stronger than that pain. One thing you will come to understand.”

“And what is that?” I choke out.

“Your love for your child,” she murmurs softly. “That love will eclipse everything else. It will change you. There’s nothing else in the world like it. No matter how broken you might feel, I can promise you, the moment you meet that baby, the world stops spinning, and you realize your true purpose in this life. You will do anything to protect them. You would gladly lay down your life for them. And I don’t need a crystal ball to tell you that you’ll feel the same.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be a good mother.” The confession falls from my lips unbidden. “I’m terrified I’m going to screw this up.”

Ivy laughs gently. “Oh, don’t worry. You will screw up. We all do. But what matters is that you keep trying. You learn from your mistakes, and you do better.”

Her admission eases some of the anxiety in my chest because at least I know I’m not alone in that department.

“Now here comes the hard part,” she says.

“What’s that?”

“You have to start now. You need to get up. Move. Eat. Function. Even if you don’t feel like it. Your baby needs you. It’s time to remember who you are and show that child the De La Rosa blood runs strong. With that, you can conquer anything.”

Her words settle over me, and as much as my brain wants to disregard them and stay exactly where I’m at, I know she’s right. I’ve wallowed. I’ve grieved. But I have a life to create. I have a future to establish. And I can’t do that lying in bed feeling sorry for myself.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Good.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes it in hers. “Now first thing’s first. We need to get you cleaned up.”

I nod. Ivy pulls back the covers, and slowly, I sit up. It’s harder than I expect because I’m weak, my muscles aching from days of doing nothing. When my feet hit the floor, and I try to stand on my own, I quickly realize that I can’t.

“It’s okay.” Ivy grabs my arms. “Your body is tired. Let me help you.”

I don’t want to let her help me, mostly because I’m stubborn, and I was actually inspired by her reminder of the blood that runs in my veins. But I know she’s not going to let me give up now when she’s gotten me halfway.

“Remember, I’ve been where you are,” she says. “I know it’s not fun. I’m still not back to a hundred percent myself, but I have a few party tricks from my physical therapy that will make it easier.”

She maneuvers herself in front of me, bends, and wraps me in a hug. Immediately, I stiffen, and she laughs.