**When Broken Hearts Learn To Breathe Again by Daren S. Cole**
“Hey, I know her! She’s that outrageous woman who’s obsessed with marrying into the Mendoza family. They say she’s been stalking Mr. Mendoza for years—even went so far as to strip naked in an attempt to seduce him once. But he didn’t even spare her a glance.”
“Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone so utterly shameless.”
“Hey, you! New girl! Get your ass over here!”
“What a desperate little thing you are, aren’t you? Come show us what you’ve got!”
“We’re talking to you! Are you deaf or just plain stupid?”
With a jolt, Yvonne was shoved hard by one of the female inmates, her back crashing against the unforgiving wall. A fresh wave of pain surged through her already battered bones, remnants of injuries that had yet to fully heal.
Yet, as she stood there, the physical agony paled in comparison to the deep, gnawing despair that had taken root in her heart.
Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined her life would spiral into such miserable depths—all thanks to Winthrop.
Silence enveloped her as she stared into the distance, her eyes hollow, reflecting a tumultuous mix of defiance and hopelessness.
The lead inmate, feeling her authority challenged by Yvonne’s silence, raised her hand and struck Yvonne hard across the head.
“I’m talking to you! Cat got your tongue?”
The world around Yvonne spun wildly as dizziness washed over her from the blow. She bit down hard on her lip, feeling the sharp sting as blood seeped out, a stark reminder of her situation.
“Go on. Hit me. Better yet—kill me.”
She lifted her gaze, a fierce blend of resolve and despair shining through her battered exterior.
Her unwillingness to retaliate only seemed to embolden the women surrounding her.
“Well, well. Looks like you still have some backbone, huh? Listen up, you little bitch. We’ve got orders from someone in the Mendoza family to ‘take good care of you’. And you know what? I was just running out of things to do for fun.”
In that moment, a sharp kick landed squarely on Yvonne’s side. Caught off guard, she had no time to react and found herself crumpling to the floor.
The women descended upon her like a pack of wolves, kicking and punching without mercy, their laughter echoing in the cold, sterile room.
All she could do was curl into a tight ball, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, a futile attempt to shield her fragile spirit from their cruelty.
By the time they finally exhausted themselves, she lay motionless on the ground like a broken doll, her body battered and bruised, with blood smeared at the corners of her mouth.
In the chaos, a delicate diamond bracelet had been torn from her wrist during the struggle. It now lay on the dusty floor before her, a glimmer of her past amidst the darkness.
That bracelet had been a gift from Winthrop for her twentieth birthday, a token of his affection during a time when he had just returned to the Mendoza family—powerless, watched, and living under constant scrutiny.
He had taken on tutoring jobs in secret, working tirelessly to save up for that bracelet, each painstaking hour a testament to his love for her.
It was engraved with five small moonstones, each representing a promise he had made to her.
When he had placed it on her wrist, he looked deep into her eyes and said, “Yvie, when I bought this, I envisioned these five stones as my five promises to you. Five wishes—whatever you desire, I will make them come true.”
That year had been brutal for him, nearly beaten to death by Emerson for his refusal to enter into an arranged marriage.
She had used the first moonstone wish.
She wished for him to pursue the path laid out before him without the burden of worrying about her feelings.
As long as she could stay by his side, she believed she could endure anything life threw at them.
In their third year together, when she found herself unexpectedly pregnant, only to be forced into an abortion by Emerson, Winthrop had been consumed by rage, nearly breaking ties completely and proposing they elope.
Desperate to keep him close, she had used the second moonstone wish, whispering promises of future children into his ear, convincing him to stay.
She knew all too well the sacrifices he had made—his strained eyesight from endless nights poring over finance books, the raw palms from mastering golf to fit in with the elite, and the bloodied back from punishments inflicted for the smallest of mistakes.
He had endured so much for her; she couldn’t allow it all to crumble because of her.
So she chose to sacrifice herself time and time again to ensure his success.
Yet in the end, he had let her down.
He had made a fool of her, a complete and utter joke.
Tears of disappointment streamed silently down her cheeks, pooling at her feet, a testament to her shattered dreams.
Suddenly, the heavy iron door creaked open, breaking the suffocating silence. An officer peered in, his gaze landing squarely on Yvonne.
“Yvonne Welch? Step out.”
With great effort, she pushed herself to her feet and walked out slowly, each step heavy with the weight of despair.
He led her outside, where the sun blazed down, its intensity almost blinding.
A tall figure stood silhouetted against the harsh light.
“You’ve been bailed out. You may leave.”
Yvonne raised a hand to shield her eyes, squinting through her swollen vision to discern the man standing before her.
It wasn’t Winthrop. Who was this stranger?
