004

Days moved so fast, and it had already been a month since Zara woke up from the coma. She had been so focused on recovering and getting herself back that time just slipped away. Diego and Dante never let her suffer; they always brought her food, fruits, and anything she needed to make sure she was comfortable.

She left the doctor's office after her final checkup and headed straight to the VIP ward. When she opened the door, the first thing she saw was a neatly packaged outfit on the bed. Curious, she unzipped the bag and pulled out the clothes—a long violet jacket, a black skirt, and a white inner top. Even a beret and boots were included.

He really got me an entire outfit?

She rushed out, hoping to catch him, but he was already gone. Frustrated, she turned to the nurse at the front desk. "Who was in my room while I was gone?"

"Mr. Dante," the nurse answered. "He dropped something off."

She sighed and walked back to her room. As she lifted the outfit, a letter slipped onto the bed.

*"I hope this dress shows the world just how beautiful you are. But first things first—you'll see a pair of dark glasses inside. Wear them. I know your blabbermouth is already wondering why, but when you step out, you'll see for yourself.

—Diego"*

She rolled her eyes. Dramatic much?

Still, she slipped into the outfit, and to her surprise, everything fit perfectly. Even the shoes.

"How does he know my size?" she muttered.

On her way out, all the hospital staff had gathered. Mr. White, one of the senior doctors, stepped forward with a warm smile. "Congratulations, Zara. You fought death and won."

Tears burned in her eyes as she looked at their faces, people who had taken care of her for years—people who didn't abandon her. The overwhelming love she felt was nothing like what she had ever received before.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything. For not rejecting me."

"Let's not see each other again, okay?" Mr. White said, smiling. "Unless it's for good news."

She laughed through her tears.

As she walked out of the hospital doors, a thunderous applause erupted. Her legs trembled slightly. Six years. Six whole years and a month. And she was finally stepping into the world again.

The first thing she saw was—

Paparazzi. Not one, not two, but an entire mob of them. Cameras flashing, voices shouting.

Her body tensed. What's going on? Were they here for a politician? A celebrity?

She took another step, and the flashes followed.

Before she could react, a man rushed forward, shielding her from the chaos. It was John—one of Diego's bodyguards. He guided her toward a sleek black car. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized what she was looking at.

A Range Rover. Not just any Range Rover—the latest model.

She stood there, frozen. Maybe that's why the paparazzi are outside.

"Miss Zara," John said. "Please, get in."

What?? I didn't expect that.

The door opened, and she saw Dante sitting in the passenger seat.

"I was asked to take you somewhere," he said, smirking.

She didn't argue. She just got in, her mind still reeling.

They drove in silence until they reached an airstrip. A private jet was waiting, its engines humming softly.

"Dante…" She turned to him. "Where are we? What's happening? And whose jet is this?"

He stepped out and opened the door for her. "Mr. Orlov is not in the city. He sent us to pick you up and bring you to him."

She hesitated at first, but followed him onto the plane. Inside, luxury surrounded her. Plush seats, designer décor… and four women waiting.

One sorted through outfits. Another prepped her nails. A third handled her hair, and the last did her makeup. The flight attendant made sure she was comfortable.

She sat there, stunned.

Her ex-husband was rich, but this… this was a whole different level. But who are the Orlov family? Because this is screaming generational wealth.

When they landed, a limo was already waiting. Bodyguards escorted her until she reached the car. As she stepped inside, a strong scent of expensive cologne and roses filled the space.

She turned—and her breath hitched when she saw him.

Diego sat across from her, holding a bouquet of fresh roses.

Before she could say anything, he smirked. "I knew you were pretty, but damn… you're gorgeous."

She blinked, her heart pounding as warmth spread across her cheeks.

He handed her the flowers, and she froze.

"Congratulations on your… what do they even call it? A grand return to the world after six years?"

She stared at the flowers, unsure of how to react. Her face felt hot. She was smiling like an idiot.

"Awwn, who would've thought the almighty Diego Orlov could be this sweet?" she teased.

He chuckled. "When I saw these roses, they reminded me of you. So, I thought, why not get you for you?"

Damn. He was too smooth.

She clutched the bouquet tighter.

Then he leaned back. "Oh, and did you see the reason why I asked you to wear the dark shades? I mean, the paparazzi."

She frowned. "Yeah, I saw them. Why were they even there?"

Diego smirked. "They follow me everywhere. The moment they realized I wasn't the one sick, they started guessing why I kept coming to the hospital. For the past three years, they've spun every story possible. Some said I had a sick child. Others said I was preparing to have a family. The theories were endless."

She stared at him, shocked. "And you just let them talk?"

He shrugged. "They'll talk no matter what I do. But now, they finally have their answer."

The limo pulled up in front of a grand event hall. Diego stepped out first, then turned to her. He held out his arm.

"Give me your hand. You'll need my support."

She wanted to reject him, but she couldn't resist him, so she placed her hand in his.

As they walked in, people swarmed to greet him—business moguls, politicians, powerful men and women. But every time they asked who she was, he only said, "Soon-to-be Mrs. Orlov."

She turned to him, wide-eyed.

He winked. "I don't know why you weren't asked to marry me, but oh well… you're stuck with me now."

A blush crept up her neck as something tumbled in her stomach.

Diego dominated the auction, winning the most expensive land that every bidder wanted. That was when she truly realized—he wasn't just a billionaire. He was the most powerful billionaire in the country.

At some point, he was called away. She stayed behind, soaking in her surroundings. Until she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned.

A man stood before her—a bodyguard.

"Someone wants to see you," he said.

She frowned. "Who?"

"My boss."

She crossed her arms. "If he wants to see me, he knows where I'm standing."

The guard left without another word.

A minute later, a voice cut through the air.

"Hello, Señorita."

Her heart stopped.

That voice…

She turned.

Daniel Crestwell.

Her husband.

He didn't recognize her.

He smiled, his eyes trailing over her with interest. "You look familiar," he murmured. "Have we met before?"

She swallowed hard, forcing her expression to remain neutral.

She forced a polite smile. "No."

He tilted his head. "Strange. But sorry to intrude. May I have your contact? You look stunning."

Before she could respond, a firm arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her closer.

Diego's voice was sharp. "What do you want with my woman?"

Daniel's entire demeanor shifted. He took a step back. "I'm sorry, Mr. Orlov. I didn't know she was with you."

Before he left, he turned back. "Actually, I wanted to discuss an investment with you. I've been trying to reach you—"

Diego cut him off, looking truly annoyed. "If you want to talk, make an appointment or talk to my assistant."

He took Zara's hand and led her out of the hall.

Hand in hand with the most powerful man in the country… while her past watched from the shadows.