QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 146: Betrayal

Chapter 146 – Betrayal

Estela POV

"You could have escaped," she says, arms folded like she’s the reasonable one in the room.

"Why do you think you and the young ones made it out? You could’ve left the kids at another orphanage and started your own life."

The words make my stomach twist.

"You wanted to abandon them?"

Then I catch it—

The shift.

The way she phrased it.

Let escape.

Wait.

No.

"What do you an ’let us escape’?" I ask, stepping forward, voice tight. My hands curl into fists at my sides.

Her gaze falters—just for a second.

"Forget about it," she mutters.

"Please," I say, trembling now. "Tell ."

She stays silent.

No.

No.

No.

"You betrayed us!!" I scream, my voice breaking on the word like it’s too big for my chest.

Antonia doesn’t flinch.

"So what about it?" she snaps.

The air leaves my lungs.

"How could you?" I whisper.

She turns, face twisted with fury and sothing worse—justification.

"How could I?" Her voice climbs, louder.

"How could I not?! You were just a little girl—you didn’t know what was really going on in that place."

I take a step back. My pulse is thunder. My mouth tastes like ash.

"You think killing bad people was all those old hags wanted from us? Don’t be fucking naïve. All that nonsense about taking on the sins of others, about martyrdom and sacrifice? That was just the sales pitch."

She laughs—actually laughs, and it sounds hollow.

"Those won were hypocritical, evil sons of bitches. Do you even know who our targets were? Cartel enemies. Politicians’ rivals. Whatever filthy client paid enough. Sure, we killed so bad people—but we also killed good ones."

My breath catches in my throat. My ears are ringing.

"And as you got older, your duties changed," she says coldly.

"By the ti I was sixteen, I wasn’t just killing people. I was sleeping with them. Old, disgusting n. Powerful n. You want to talk betrayal? You have no idea what kind of sick shit they made us do to keep their pockets in gold."

I want to cover my ears, but I can’t move. My legs are locked. My heart is cracking wide open.

"And when the chance ca—when the window finally opened—I burned that place to the fucking ground. I made sure every one of those sanctimonious monsters scread."

Her voice lowers, almost soft.

"I spared your life. And the younger ones. Because I rembered you. But I didn’t look for you. No offense," she shrugs, "you remind of everything I left behind."

I stagger.

"I—I’m sorry. I didn’t—"

"Of course you didn’t know," she snaps.

"You were a kid. But now you’ve ruined my whole day. So leave."

She turns away, just like that. Like I’m so stain she’s tired of scrubbing out.

My knees give.

I collapse to the floor.

The world tilts sideways and nothing makes sense anymore.

The sisters. The missions. The whispered prayers before every job.

All lies.

Every last one.

Everything I’ve ever believed in is gone.

The door opens.

I hear it.

But I can’t see.

The world’s tilting—no, spinning, like a carousel I can’t get off of. My lungs won’t expand. My chest feels like it’s caving in, like soone’s sitting on it. My hands are shaking, my vision swimming, and I can’t—

I can’t breathe.

It’s too much.

Too many broken truths, too many dead mories I thought were holy. Everything I believed in is gone, rotted, burned by the one person I waited my whole life for.

Then—

Arms.

Strong. Warm. Familiar.

Wrapping around .

Daphne.

I know that scent. The faint cologne she uses, the clean crispness of silk and smoke and ho. She pulls into her chest, one hand at the back of my head, the other curled tightly around my spine like she’s trying to hold together with just her touch.

But I can’t breathe.

I keep gasping, but nothing’s coming in.

The walls are too close.

The air’s too thick.

I feel myself slipping.

And then—

Black.

***

Daphne POV

I carry Estela’s unconscious body out of that house like she’s made of glass and grief.

She doesn’t stir. Her breathing is shallow. Her head rests against my shoulder like she’s not really here.

Julie ets at the car, eyes narrowing at the sight of her.

"Hospital?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Back to the estate. Have Doc Reyes et us there."

He nods and takes her from with practiced care, his arms gentle despite his bulk. I run a hand through Estela’s hair once before turning back toward the house.

I have unfinished business.

---

Antonia’s back in the garden.

Kneeling again, pruning the damn roses like she didn’t just gut my lover’s soul and toss it at her feet.

The sun hat’s back on. Her hands are gloved. The scent of earth and blooming things surrounds her like so ironic halo.

I walk toward her with silent steps and a rage I wear like perfu.

She hears anyway. She doesn’t turn around.

I stop a few feet behind her.

"What did you tell her?" I ask, voice low and dangerous.

She snips a thorny stem with sharp precision.

Shrugs.

"The truth," she says, like it’s a goddamn favor.

I clench my jaw. I want to react—violently, cathartically, honestly.

But I don’t.

Estela’s unconscious. Her world just shattered, and when she wakes, I need to be the calm in the storm, not another fucking fire.

So I breathe.

Swallow the rage.

Tuck it away.

I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair, and push my personal fury down where it belongs—deep and locked under taphorical floorboards.

"I have a business proposition," I say smoothly.

Antonia lifts a brow, unimpressed.

"Charming timing."

I ignore the jab.

She turns back to her roses. "I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m your big brother’s whore. I can’t be seen fraternizing with the enemy."

The word whore drips from her mouth like ash.

I narrow my eyes. "Trust . This is sothing you’ll be unable to resist."

She pauses mid-prune. Her silence says more than words ever could.

Got her.

Because if this really is Jessica reborn, then under the cynicism, there’s still that little black spark of ambition. The hunger for sothing bigger. Sothing that feeds the mind, not just the body.