I Married My Ex's Billionaire Father-Chapter 295: Rain Check

Luca Delgado had finally reached the point where the doctors had stopped using words like critical and miraculous when they looked at him. That alone felt like a victory.

The bullet wound in his side had closed cleanly, leaving behind an ugly, puckered scar that pulled painfully whenever he moved too fast or laughed too hard. The shattered bone in his leg had been less forgiving. Metal pins now lived inside him, cold reminders that he would never again walk quite the same way he had before Brandon’s world had slammed violently into his own.

Crutches were his constant companions now.

He hated them.

Still, he could move. That was something. He could stand, shuffle, climb a flight of stairs if he took it slow and accepted the burning pain that followed. Compared to the weeks he’d spent flat on his back, drifting in and out of fever dreams while blood pooled beneath him on concrete, this felt like freedom.

Even so, he had left.

His ex-girlfriend had begged him not to.

"You’re not ready," she’d said, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, eyes red-rimmed with frustration and fear. "You can barely get to the bathroom without wincing."

"I’m fine," Luca had lied, stuffing his few belongings into a duffel bag.

"You almost died," she snapped. "Again."

That had stung, because it was true. But it wasn’t the real reason he’d left.

The truth was simpler, uglier.

He didn’t want Brandon’s shadow stretching all the way to her door.

She had saved his life, called the ambulance, stopped the bleeding, stayed when anyone else would have panicked or walked away. Luca had seen enough of Brandon’s cruelty to know that kindness like that made people targets. He refused to be the reason she ended up screaming on a concrete floor the way he had.

So he left. Despite her protests. Despite the ache in his body and the deeper ache in his chest.

Now, days later, he sat alone in a cramped rented room that smelled faintly of mildew and old cigarettes, staring at the ceiling as time ticked by in painful increments. Staying indoors had seemed smart at first. Safe.

But safety didn’t pay rent.

The envelope where he kept his cash had grown thinner by the day. Food. Medication. Painkillers he hated but couldn’t function without. It all added up.

He couldn’t remain holed up forever.

And Brandon’s men hadn’t come crashing through his door yet.

That absence, terrifying at first slowly began to feel like permission.

So Luca pulled on his jacket, adjusted the strap of his crutches under his arms, and headed out.

The pub had always been his refuge.

It was dim, loud enough to swallow secrets, and full of people who understood the kind of work Luca did without asking too many questions. The door creaked open as he stepped inside, the familiar smell of alcohol and fried grease washing over him like a warped kind of comfort.

Heads turned.

"Luca!" someone shouted.

"Holy shit, you’re alive!"

"Thought you skipped town, man."

Grins. Claps on the shoulder he couldn’t quite dodge. A few curious glances down at the crutches.

He forced a smile and made his way toward his usual booth, easing himself down carefully, biting back a hiss as pain flared through his leg. The wood was hard, unforgiving. Still better than the hospital bed.

He hadn’t even finished ordering a drink when Cole slid into the seat opposite him.

Cole was broad-shouldered and perpetually scruffy, the kind of man who always looked like he’d just walked out of a bar fight even when he hadn’t. He eyed Luca openly, gaze dropping to the crutches.

"How are you doing, man?" Cole asked.

"Not easy," Luca replied with a shrug. "Just came to see what I could get."

Cole snorted. "Not far with that." He nodded at the crutches. "But... someone’s been snooping around asking about you."

Luca’s stomach dropped.

"...You lucky bastard," Cole added with a grin. "Might have a client."

Client.

Luca knew better.

His pulse spiked, blood roaring in his ears. Brandon didn’t hire clients. He sent messages.

"What did you tell them?" Luca asked quickly, leaning forward.

"That you haven’t been around much lately," Cole said. "No one knew what happened, so we assumed you traveled outta town."

Luca let out a shallow breath.

"But," Cole continued casually, "I told him if there’s anywhere you can be found, it’s here."

The room felt suddenly too warm.

Too loud.

Luca paled, sweat breaking out along his spine. "When... when did you see this person?"

Cole scratched his head. "Couple days ago, I think. Actually, might’ve been yesterday. They come every day."

Every day. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Whatever they wanted from him must be important.

Luca didn’t wait for Cole to finish his sentence.

He grabbed his crutches and shoved himself upright, pain flaring violently as he shuffled toward the door.

"Hey," Cole called after him. "Where are you going?"

Luca didn’t answer.

Everything Cole had said screamed danger. If Brandon was searching for him openly, then hiding was no longer an option. He needed distance. Time.

Money.

Maybe he could borrow some cash, disappear to the countryside for a few months. His aunt had a farm, quiet, isolated. Brandon’s world didn’t stretch that far.

He was so focused on escape that he didn’t see the man until he collided with him.

The impact knocked the breath from Luca’s lungs. His crutches slipped. He would have gone down hard if not for the massive hand that shot out and grabbed him.

The man steadied him easily, like Luca weighed nothing at all.

"Careful where you’re going, man," the stranger said.

Luca looked up to apologize and froze.

The man was huge. Thick neck. Broad chest. Face carved from something hard and mean. His eyes were flat, assessing, the kind that didn’t miss details.

A henchman.

Luca didn’t recognize him as the one who had shot him, but maybe Brandon didn’t reuse thugs. Maybe he collected them.

"I... I’m so sorry," Luca stammered, forcing himself to breathe evenly. "I’ll just... get out of your way."

He tried to step back.

The man didn’t let go.

"My boss would like to have a word with you, Luca," he said calmly. "Do you mind?"

The pub seemed to recede around them, noise fading into a dull roar.

Luca’s shoulders sagged.

Resignation settled in, heavy and cold.

"Can I take a rain check?" he asked weakly, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.