Chapter 2 - THE GATES OF ESCAPEFootsteps pounded against the marble floor behind me. Two of the venue’s private security guards, dressed in sharp black suits that matched Arturo’s cruel aesthetic, converged on my path, blocking the heavy oak exit doors.
“Excuse me, señora,” the lead guard said, his voice laced with forced politeness and panic. “Mr. Fuentes requested that you remain inside until the reception concludes.”
I stopped just inches away from them. My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, and a cold sweat broke out across my forehead. The contractions were coming closer together now—every three minutes, sharp and blinding. My body was screaming at me to lie down, to stop, to surrender.
Instead, I raised my chin.
“If you touch me, or attempt to detain me for one more second,” I said, locking eyes with the guard, “I will scream kidnapping and charge this entire venue, your employer, and Arturo Fuentes with unlawful imprisonment of a pregnant woman at high medical risk. Move. Now.”
The guard hesitated, his eyes darting back toward the head table.
Arturo was storming across the room, his face flushed a furious, ugly crimson, brushing past tables of horrified guests who stared in stunned silence.
“Move, you idiots! Grab her!” Arturo roared, pointing a trembling finger at me.
Before the guards could make a move, a loud, metallic screech echoed from the gravel courtyard outside the grand doors.
SCREEECH!
The massive oak doors suddenly banged wide open, pushed violently from the outside.
Framed in the warm glow of the Puebla sunset stood a figure clad in a worn leather biker jacket, dark sunglasses, and riding boots. It was Mateo—my best friend from college and the only person in this city who knew the absolute truth about Arturo’s controlling, toxic family.
Mateo pulled off his sunglasses, scanning the room with a gaze as sharp as a razor. His eyes locked instantly onto me, pale, sweating, and clutching my swollen stomach.
“Well, well, well,” Mateo’s deep voice boomed across the silent banquet hall, dripping with ice-cold sarcasm. “I heard the food here was terrible, but I didn’t realize the groom was serving emotional abuse as the main course.”
“Mateo? What the hell are you doing here?” Arturo snarled, finally reaching the foyer and stopping short of Mateo’s imposing frame. “This is a private family event. Get out before I have you thrown in jail!”
Mateo didn't even dignify Arturo with a direct look. He strode straight past him, ignoring the gasps of high-society dowagers, and walked right up to me.
Without a word, Mateo scooped me up effortlessly into his arms, bridal style.
“Hey!” I gasped, clinging to his shoulders.
“Shut up and let your knight in distressed leather do his job,” Mateo muttered softly down to me, a fierce, protective grin on his face. He turned back to glare at Arturo, who looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel.
“Put her down, you piece of trash!” Arturo shrieked, lunging forward with his fists clenched.
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Mateo didn’t flinch. With one swift kick of his heavy leather boot, he caught Arturo squarely in the shins, sending the proud heir of the Fuentes family crashing backward onto a decorative tray of gourmet canapés.
“Tell your mother her dress looks cheap,” Mateo called out coolly over his shoulder as he carried me out through the open oak doors into the cool evening air.
