The Runaway Mrs Dela Merced ( English )

Chapter - 4 Payback Time, Mrs. Dela Merced

“Ella,” I whisper, dragging a rough hand over my face.

Ever since I saw her at the airport, she hasn’t left my mind.

Her eyes were misty, fragile. Her lips are inviting. Her body is slim, delicate, and dangerous.

She wears a white top that barely covers her waist and brown skinny jeans. Her hair is tied in a messy bun that somehow makes her look even more irresistible.

And I notice the way men look at her. Like they want her. Like they could take her.

It makes something dark twist inside me. I want to punch every single one of them. As if she isn’t already mine.

“Damn it,” I mutter, clenching my jaw.

Then the thought hits me.

"Now you’re back,"

“It’s payback time, Mrs. Dela Merced,” I say under my breath, my teeth grinding together.

***

Every time I remember that night, my anger burns all over again.

She left me. She abandoned me on our wedding night.

I was the one who stayed. The one who answered every question. The one who faced the humiliation.

Not just from our families, but from the entire town of San Miguel.

I never understood it. Why marry me if she was just going to run away?

That humiliation I never forgave her for it.

Now she’s back, and this time she’s not leaving.

She owes me everything, and I’ll make sure she pays.

The thought alone sends heat rushing through my body. I clench my fists.

Am I that desperate? Or is it just her?

Because the moment I saw her again, something I buried four years ago woke up.

Her body. Her lips. The way she looked at me was like she hated me. Like she still felt something.

I exhale sharply.

Yes, she owes me, and she’s going to give me what I want.

No matter what.

The intercom suddenly buzzes, snapping me back to reality.

My secretary informs me that Mr. Ynarez called and wants to see me in his office.

I straighten my posture and fix my expression before stepping out.

***

“Ella is still upset. She’s been crying,” Mr. Ynarez says the moment I step inside.

“My wife wants me to stop this. She’s worried about her. But Ella is your wife now. The decision is yours, Vincent.”

I stay silent. Listening. Watching.

“I brought her back because I believe it’s time for you to live together as husband and wife. Four years is enough. Enough to heal whatever wounds you both have.”

My jaw tightens slightly.

Four years, and yet it still feels like yesterday.

“Can you promise me something, Vincent?” he asks, his voice serious.

I meet his gaze. He looks older than before. Tired, like regret has finally caught up to him.

“Can you promise me you won’t hurt Ella?”

I straighten, holding his gaze.

“Yes, sir,” I answer. “We’ll start over. We still have time to fix everything we both ruined.”

And I mean that in my own way.

Because she’s still my wife. No matter how everything started, she carries my name.

“I trust you, Vincent,” he says. “Don’t let me make another mistake. I already made one when I forced you to marry my daughter.”

He turns toward the window. “I thought marriage would protect her, save her from humiliation. I didn’t expect her to run away on your wedding night.”

My jaw clenches. Hard.

The memory hits like a punch. The shame. The anger. The whispers.

“Promise me, Vincent,” he says. “Don’t let her leave this time. And try to love her. Maybe your marriage can still work if you both learn to love each other.”

Love? The word feels foreign in my chest.

I exhale slowly and nod.

Not because I’m sure, but because I’ve already decided.

She’s not leaving again.

With love or not, she’s staying.

Because right now, all I want is her.

To have her where she belongs.

To make her remember she’s mine.

After our conversation, I told him I’ll pick Ella up later. He invites me to dinner instead. I agree.

***

When we arrive, Mrs. Ynarez greets us warmly.

“Good evening, Mrs. Ynarez,” I say politely, kissing her cheek.

“Good evening, handsome,” she replies with a smile.

“Where’s Ella?” Mr. Ynarez asks.

“She’s in her room. I’ll have someone call her and tell her you came with Vincent.”

“No,” I cut in. “I’ll do it.”

They exchange looks. Then Mr. Ynarez nods.

“Second door on the left,” Mr. Ynarez says.

I nod and head upstairs.

***

Once I reach her room, I stop in front of her door. I knock once. No answer. I knock again. Still nothing.

Slowly, I turn the handle and step inside.

The room is dim. Quiet. Still. The faint scent of her perfume lingers in the air.

And then I see her.

Ella’s lying on the bed. In nothing but black underwear.

My breath stops. I swallow. Once. Twice. Too many times.

I step closer. Slowly. Carefully. Like I’m approaching something that could ruin me.

My eyes trace her body. The curve of her waist. The softness of her skin. The way she lies there oblivious to what she’s doing to me.

My throat goes dry. My pulse spikes. And something inside me breaks.