La Dulce Venganza: Enamorándome del Padre de Mi ExES

Chapter 1 — The Betrayal

(Zara's POV)

Ryan never left his door unlocked.

That was the first sign that something was wrong.

I stood outside his apartment a second longer than necessary, staring at the slightly ajar door, my fingers clenched around my phone. His car was parked outside. I'd seen it myself. And yet, ten minutes earlier, he'd told me he wasn't home.

I pushed open the door slowly and went inside. The living room was empty, but soft music drifted in from the hallway. At first it was barely audible, easy to ignore, but as I moved further in, it became clearer and louder.

Perhaps she had left in a hurry. Perhaps she forgot to lock up.

"Ryan?" I called.

There was no response.

I walked toward her room, each step slower than the last. The music was getting louder, but it wasn't the only thing I could hear anymore.

Voices.

I stopped just outside the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob. A woman's voice filtered through it.

Soft. Familiar. Too familiar.

"Ryan... when are we going to tell him?" she asked softly. "We don't have to hide anymore. I can't keep pretending I'm not with my son's father."

My fingers froze. My whole body went motionless.  

No. No, I must have misheard.

Ryan's voice continued, low and calm:  

"I told you I'll handle it soon. Just give me time. I need to finish setting up the company first. You know I need her friend's father to back me up if I want that first contract."

Her friend's father. The phrase stuck in some corner of my mind, but the next words buried it completely.

-But…

—Shhh, I'm just using it. I'll stop using it soon.

Using? Could he be talking about me?

—I don't like him. I'm afraid he might try something.

Ryan let out a low laugh.  

—Relax. I'm not going to let anyone touch you or our baby.

Baby.

The word hit me like a physical force. My hand moved before I could even think about it. I pushed open the door.

—What baby?

The room suddenly came into focus. Ryan was sitting on the edge of the bed.

And beside him…

Keisha.

My half-sister. Her hand rested naturally on his arm, as if it belonged there, as if it had always belonged there.

For a second, no one spoke. Keisha's eyes widened slightly when she saw me, but the surprise didn't last long. Ryan, on the other hand, didn't even seem guilty.

"Ryan," I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to control it. "What is this? What are you doing with her? What pregnancy are you talking about?"

He tilted his head slightly, observing me as if I were the one being irrational.

—What does it look like?

-That?

"We've been seeing each other for weeks," she said without emotion. "Don't make a scene."

Don't make a scene. Something inside me almost laughed at that.

Keisha moved closer to him, her fingers closing tighter around his arm as she let out a soft, exaggerated sigh.

"Zara," she said, shaking her head. "Don't blame Ryan. You're just... not fun. He needed someone, and I was there."

I stared at her.

"Is that how it happened?" I asked slowly. "Did you end up in your sister's boyfriend's bed by accident?"

Her lips curved slightly.  

"Half-sister," he corrected. "Let's not get carried away."

Ryan rolled his eyes, as if the whole thing was exhausting him.  

"I didn't force her," he added. "We care about each other."

"We matter to each other," I repeated. "Is that what we call it now?"

Keisha crossed her arms.  

—God, Zara. Why do you always have to make everything so dramatic?

I let out a short laugh that didn't sound like my own.

"You're sleeping with my boyfriend," I said quietly, "and I'm the dramatic one?"

Ryan sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  

"Do you want the truth?" he asked.

I didn't answer. He shrugged anyway.  

—You stopped being funny a long time ago.

"Am I boring?" I asked, my voice sharp. "After all? After you took my virginity and promised I was the only girl you'd ever want?"

The moment the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back.

Ryan's expression immediately tightened.  

"Zara," he murmured. "Don't start with that."

Keisha rolled her eyes.  

"Please," she said. "You're acting like it was some sacred ritual. People have sex. It's not a marriage contract."

Ryan nodded as if she had said something reasonable.  

"That was months ago," she added. "You're still stuck on that."

Something cold settled deep in my chest. So that's what it meant to him. Nothing.

"You're always working," she continued. "Always tired. Always stressed about university or that job. It's like you don't know how to live anymore."

"That job pays for my tuition," I said.

—Exactly —she replied with a small, arrogant smile—. You're always the one responsible.

Keisha let out a low laugh.

"And honestly," Ryan added, glancing at my clothes as if he'd just noticed, "you didn't expect me to get stuck with a bartender forever, did you?"

For a second, everything inside me went completely still.  

—So that's what it's about—I said slowly—. My job.

"No," Keisha interjected gently. "It's about your personality."

My hands closed into fists at my sides.

"You try too hard to be perfect," she continued. "Like you're better than everyone else. Ryan needed someone who actually knew how to have fun."

—And that someone happened to be you? —I asked.

She shrugged lightly.  

"I didn't have to work as hard as you." He leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, "This is just the beginning, Zara. I'm going to take everything from you: your life and your position."

That was the trigger. Before I could think, my hand flew upwards.

The slap was meant for Ryan. I never got to him.

Keisha pushed me hard and I stumbled backwards, my heel slipped and I barely managed to hold on against the table behind me.

"You're crazy," she blurted out.

—You pushed me —I replied.

—You tried to hit him!

—He deserved it!

Ryan stepped between us, his face darkened.

-Enough.

But Keisha wasn't finished. Before I could react, her hand slashed across my face. The sound echoed in the room.

My head turned to the side and, for a second, everything was silent.

"You always act like you're better than everyone," he said coldly.

I turned slowly to look at her, my cheek burning.

"You're really proud of yourself right now," I said softly.

"At least I'm not pathetic," she replied.

Ryan took a drink from the nightstand and handed it to her as if I wasn't even there.

"Forget her," he murmured.

But Keisha didn't. She looked at me once more and then tilted the glass forward.

The cold liquid soaked my shirt, dripping down my skin and falling to the floor.

I stood there, frozen.

Ryan let out a sigh of annoyance.

"See?" he said. "This is exactly why I didn't want you here. You can't handle anything."

My hands were trembling, but I kept them at my sides.

I looked at him one last time. This was the same man who once held my face and told me he loved me.

"Enjoy each other," I said softly.

He frowned, as if he'd expected more. A fight. A meltdown.

I didn't give him anything. I turned around and left.

---

I walked three blocks before I realized I had no idea where I was going. Six hours earlier, I was a completely different person.

At 6:47 a.m., I received an email from a boutique fashion agency offering me an interview for a junior styling position. I read it four times before I believed it was real.

I wore something simple: jeans, a soft blouse, light makeup. I wanted to look like myself, not like someone pretending to fit in.

Ryan had called me that morning.

"Good morning, darling," she said, her voice a little too cheerful.

—I have an interview—I told him.

"We should celebrate later. Or before," he added lightly.

—I need to concentrate.

He remained silent for a second.  

"You take everything too seriously," he said. "Relax for once."

I ended the call early, ignoring the unease in my chest.

The office was everything I expected: polished, expensive, intimidating. Clean lines, glass walls, and that kind of silence that made you sit up straighter.

Miranda, the woman who greeted me, had a sharp and direct gaze.

"Your portfolio is good," he said. "You have instinct."

For a moment, I allowed myself to believe that this could work.

Then he walked in. Richard. Older. Confident. The kind of man who didn't need to raise his voice to be heard.

His attention fell on me in a way that sent chills down my spine.

The interview started normally, but it didn't stay that way.

"You have potential," he finally said, leaning forward slightly. "I can make things easier for you. You just need to be... flexible."

My stomach dropped.  

"I'm here for work," I said carefully.

Her smile didn't change.  

—And I'm offering you an opportunity.

"I'm not interested," I said, standing up.

He let out a laugh as if he had said something funny.  

—That's how the world works, Zara.

—Not mine.

I left without looking back.

---

When I got home, I was already exhausted.

My stepmother was at the door, dressed to go out, with a strongly disapproving expression as her eyes scanned my body.

—How dare you, you disgusting witch…!

I didn't stop. I walked past him and headed for the stairs. I'd barely gone halfway up when my father appeared. I opened my mouth to greet him, but the slap came before I could say a word.

The force of the blow made my head spin to one side.

"Dad..." I began.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

I blinked, astonished.  

-That?

"How could you hit a pregnant woman?" she spat. "Are you even human?"

The words made no sense.  

"I didn't touch her," I said.

His expression hardened.  

—Do you expect me to believe you?

The realization hit me like a second blow.

"Wait," I said slowly. "Even if I had... the baby she's carrying is my boyfriend's."

Another slap crossed my face.

"So what?" he said coldly.