He Strapped Bombs to Our Babies—for Her

I woke up, head dizzy, body cold. My arms ached, veins sore, and the taste of metal still clung to my tongue. The room was empty, walls white and silent. No machines beeping, no IV tubes left in my hand. Just me. Alive, but barely.

I pulled the blanket off and sat up. My head spun. A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"Time to leave hell."

I shuffled toward the door, legs shaking. Out in the hallway, I heard something—laughter. Not the comforting kind. It was cold, rehearsed.

Margot.

I pressed my back against the wall, staying just out of sight.

“…Good job,” she was telling someone, probably that fake doctor. “Here’s your payment in full.”

I peeked around the corner. Margot handed over a thick envelope. The doctor took it fast, no questions.

“Niccolo will be mine fully now,” she said, smiling as she adjusted her coat. “Keep making reports that my mother has third-degree burns to Niccolo. I want the narrative to last. I want Niccolo to dump her to prison.” Then she turned to a nurse and added, “And Geneva’s blood? Flush it down the toilet. She’s garbage anyway.”

My chest tightened, rage creeping up my throat. But I didn’t move. I didn’t scream. I didn’t confront.

I turned. Walked back to my room. Picked up my phone and scrolled to the number the secretary gave me. I dialed.

A man answered with a composed voice. “Miss Geneva Villacruz Salvacion?”

“Yes,” I said, quietly. “I want to meet him.”

“I’ll send a car. We’ll meet in a private location. Is your daughter safe?”

“She’s not with me,” I said. “But I’ll get her. Then we leave.”

The call ended.

Two hours later, I sat across a man in his late 50s at a private café, tucked deep in a quiet village district. His eyes widened the second he saw me.

“My God…” he whispered. “They did this to you?”

My cheeks were still bruised, lips cracked, wrists marked with bruises where Niccolo’s men grabbed me.

He pushed aside the coffee and took out a tablet. Pressed a button. A video call connected.

The screen lit up. A gray-haired man in a crisp suit, eyes glassy the moment he saw me. For a few seconds, he couldn’t speak. Just stared. Then his voice broke.

“Mi hija… my daughter…” His hands trembled as they touched the screen. “What have they done to you?”

I couldn’t answer. My lips parted, but nothing came out.

“I’ve waited so long,” he said. “I looked everywhere. But your mother was good at hiding you from me, so I stopped looking. If you hadn’t bid on your mother’s old photos at the auction, I never would’ve found you.”

“I thought you were dead,” I finally whispered. “Mom never talked about you.”

He nodded, eyes glistening. “She had her reasons. But you’re safe now, Geneva. Come home. Your bloodline is mine, not theirs. You don’t belong to that cursed family.”

“I’ll come,” I said. “But first I need to get my daughter.”

He smiled softly, wiping his face. “Then go. I’ll wait.”

I ended the call and didn’t waste a second.

By nightfall, I was outside the gate of my friend’s home. Dr. Mel Reyes opened the door before I even rang. Elle rushed out barefoot, and arms wide.

“Mama!”

I caught her, held her tight. I breathed her in like oxygen.

“We’re leaving, baby,” I whispered into her hair. “Somewhere no one can ever hurt us again.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Okay, Mama.”

I hugged my friend and thanked her for watching Elle for me. She just nodded and wished me luck.

---

At the airport, the lawyer was already there. Documents, passports, boarding passes, all handed in silence.

“The private jet is ready,” he said. “Your father has cleared everything. New names. New identities. No one will find you.”

I stared at the documents. Geneva Villacruz Salvacion was gone. Dead. Buried in a mansion I never wanted. I was now someone else.

“Your father has a message,” the lawyer added. “He said: ‘Every breath they took while hurting you—I will make them pay for it. Tell her, she doesn’t run anymore. The Salvacion blood is not her future. Mine is.’”

I nodded once.

Then my phone rang. Niccolo. I answered.

“Where the hell are you?” His voice was sharp, clipped. “You leave that hospital without my permission, and I’ll bury you in lawsuits. Or do you want me to grab your twins by the neck to make you crawl back to me? You hear me? Geneva, you’re mine!”

I stepped toward the glass wall, looking out over the runway.

“Fuck you, Niccolo.”

I ended the call and pulled the SIM card out. Snapped it in half with my fingers and dropped it in the trash.

Elle clung to my waist. I hugged her back. We walked toward the stairs.

“Ready?” I asked her. She nodded happily. “Let’s go meet your grandfather.”