Chapter 356: The Crisis

That’s when the universe, that sadistic bitch, proved she listens when you taunt her. Jinxed. Flawlessly. Like every dumbass hero who ever smirked "what could possibly go wrong?" right before karma dropkicked them into a dumpster fire.

My phone didn’t just buzz. It seized against my thigh like a horny chihuahua humping a leg—violent, insistent, annoying.

"And there it is," ARIA sighed, dripping synthetic schadenfreude. "The cosmic joke writes itself. Please, tell me you recognize that number."

Isabella’s name glowed. I stabbed speakerphone. Her voice hit the Mercedes’ interior like shattered glass.

"Peter?" Raw. Fractured. barely holding syllables together. "I’m so sorry, but... I don’t know who else to call."

Madison’s head snapped toward me, eyes narrowed. Sofia tensed beside her in the back. Amanda was in return snored softly on the seat with Sofia on her lap, oblivious to incoming Armageddon.

"Breathe, Isabella. What broke?" My voice dropped into protective mode—low, dangerous, ready to hunt.

"Roberto," she choked out. "He knows."

"About?"

"About... us. He’s been watching. Recording. I didn’t know but he had hideen small cameras at home," A sob tore through her. "He has evidence of what we did, Peter. Photos. Audio, videos... from... from the bathroom where we started to the bed."

My blood? Arctic. Glacial. "What. How much?"

"Everything. He’s wanted divorce for days. Been playing me now until he showed me everything. Now he’s filing. Taking the house. The kids. My job. Claiming I’m unfit because of us." Her breath hitched, ragged. "And Maya... God, Maya..."

Sofia’s eyes were wide. Mouth forming a silent, horrified "O". Slowly turning to stare at me like I’d just confessed to fucking the Statue of Liberty. The dots. Connecting. With dynamite.

"Maya?" My brain jammed. "Who the fuck is Maya?"

"My daughter," Isabella whispered, devastation coloring every word. "Seventeen. Carlos is fourteen. Ana’s only eight." She sucked in a shuddering breath. "I tried leaving three times, Peter. Filed divorce papers three times. Always backed down... for them. Now he’s using my happiness as a weapon."

Seventeen. The number hit like a freight train made of pure irony. A girl a year older than me. One year younger than my sisters. Here I was, balls-deep in her mother’s marriage bed while she probably studied for a history exam I’d helped her cram for. The moral whiplash nearly snapped my neck.

"How did I even miss this?" I muttered, the guilt and shock hitting me like a sledgehammer.

"Oh, this is RICH. Magnificent oversight, Master. You hacked Rodriguez’s house to find a way to seduce your teacher but somehow missed the third and the very fucking child and the custody war simmering since 2021. Peak divinity, right there. Truly god-level incompetence."

"Shut up, ARIA," I growled. "I didn’t have you yet. I grabbed immediate intel!"

"Exactly. ’Immediate intel’ somehow skipped the ’Isabella Rodriguez: Mother of Three Not Two’ section. Brilliant. You’re not a god. You’re a horny teenager with a supercomputer who forgot to Google ’teacher’s hidden family members’ before fucking her. Here!"

The information flooded me, turns out, they had a child before Isabella came to US and then helping her family (husband and child) come too, but she did not stay with the girl, not all the time. When I hacked her house, I only saw traces of the last two but not the first child.

No matter what reason I tried to come up with to why I missed this, it did not make sense without me coming out as a being stupid and not thorough enough while I was consumed by the desire of fucking the teacher I had fantasized about for so long.

I admit, this was my mistake. But one I can fix.

"I was such a fool," I admitted.

"Oh yes and a very busy one."

Sofia’s processing in real-time had finished - the gradual realization, the shock, the nervous disbelief. "Wait... Ms. Rodriguez? Like... our Ms. Rodriguez? Turns out she taught us about mitosis while you were... practicing it with her?"

Her voice cracked between horror and hysterical disbelief, but she was slowly accepting the insanity.

Isabella’s laugh, shaky but real, crackled through the speaker. "Sofia, darling? Welcome to the harem. Though God knows, I wish it were under happier circumstances."

Sofia’s shock melted into nervous, disbelieving laughter. "This is... actually happening, isn’t it? My Bio teacher’s in Peter’s harem. That’s... wow."

Anyway...

Isabella’s marriage wasn’t just lacking sex when I found her. She’d narrated the whole story to me during one of our school sex encounters - the emotional neglect, the financial control, the way Roberto treated her more like a housekeeper than a wife when she’s even the one helped him come to US. She had heard rumors that when he went back home, he had a woman there while Isabella stayed in US to farm for the family.

She’d even filed for divorce three times over the years but always backed down when she thought about the kids.

"This is fucked beyond measure," I snarled, raking my free hand through my hair. "Isabella, listen to me. I can end this. Erase the evidence. Cripple his custody claim. Make this vanish. I know twenty different ways to twist this situation to make sure you keep Maya and your rights to see the other kids, heck, even stay with ’em all."

"NO!" Her refusal ripped through the car, fierce and immediate. "No, Peter! This is my disaster! My choices! I won’t let you wade into my sewage!"

"But you’re MY WOMAN!" I snapped back. "He’s using us as a weapon against you!"

"Which is exactly WHY you stay out!" she shot back, iron beneath the cracks. "I chose you. I don’t regret it. But I won’t let you sacrifice yourself to mop up my life! Also, the two kids, wanna stay with their dad, I cannot fight that!"

Something in her tone felt... off. "Isabella, you’re not fucking taking blame for his psycho tantrum just because you "cheated", are you? Don’t fucking dare."

Silence. Thick. Guilty. "...Maybe part of me does deserve this for breaking my vows."

"No." My voice left no room. "Fuck that noise. But fine. Be stubborn." I could feel my protective instincts warring with her stubborn independence. She needed to handle this herself, and as much as it killed me, I had to respect that. "But Isabella, you need to promise me you won’t let guilt make you roll over for this asshole."

"I promise," she whispered, and I could hear her trying to pull herself together.

Suddenly focused, Madison leaned toward the speaker. "Isabella. I’ll let Sterling’s handle this."

Isabella choked. "Madison, I can’t afford—"

"You’re not being asked," Madison cut in, voice brooking zero argument—pure CEO channeling a warlord. "You’re being told. Sterling buried Trent’s legal team so deep they’re finding dinosaur bones. He’ll secure Maya. He’ll secure your rights in the way you want. Non-negotiable."

"But Madison—"

"We take care of our own," Madison stated, final as a tombstone slamming shut. "Sterling’s a scalpel dipped in acid. He’ll cut Rodriguez to shreds. Legally."

How did things develop so fast like this? The universe really knew how to cook up the perfect storm.

"Already located optimal residence. Two-bedroom luxury apartment. The same hotel for penthouse I vetted for you to buy, after calculating 90% probability of Sterling securing full custody for Isabella I figured she’d need a place to stay. Maya will require secure housing near you and her mother. There’s your new place but... the Estate... is impractical for a seventeen-year-old full-time. I can purchase property now and gift it to her."

"I’m not taking it now, slow down you cutie!" Isabella gasped with a laugh.

"ARIA," I sighed, "quit the rein in the benevolent dictator act."

"Practical. You were going to request it eventually anyway. And by the way, she’s now my favorite in your women, she just called me a cutie!"

"You traitor." Madison laughed.

Isabella’s voice softened, weary but laced with fragile relief. "...God forgive me, but... it would be bliss. To stop pretending. To come to the estate... whenever I want. Without sneaking. Like...

normal."

Normal. Right. A harem full of liberated queens and a runaway bride was anyone’s definition of my

normal.

"For once, just this once, I’ll lurk in the shadows and only act if Sterling fails." But I was confident in him finishing this.

Madison squeezed my hand. "Sterling will handle it."

"Who is Sterling?" Sofia asked.

"Our family’s legal pit bull," she said, a savage smile touching her lips. "He doesn’t just win cases. He exterminates problems."

Isabella finally hung up, exhausted. "I need to call that lawyer. Prepare... for war, I guess."

"I am sending you the number, also, I will talk to him first to smoothen things.

"I will handle the costs." I said.

Sofia stared at me, eyes wide with dawning, terrifying understanding. "Ms. Rodriguez... wow. Just... wow."

"It’s complicated," I muttered.

"Everything about you is complicated," Sofia replied, no judgment. Just... acceptance. Like she’d glimpsed the chaotic, morally-dubious machinery beneath the god-priest surface.

Maya, huh? I could already feel the plot twist gears turning in my head. The name was the same that I

history

with but this was another Maya, Isabella’s daughter.

Yeah.

We spent the whole journey to Madison’s house, even Sofia’s, just chatting with Isabella and laughing, while Amanda and Soo-Jin watched. The latter kept shaking her head like she’d wandered into a telenovela written by a horny hacker on cocaine. We had discussed her legality too and concluded to have Sterling’s firm handle this too without deporting her.

This dude was going to take some good money from me, but who cares when you have more money than small countries?

This Isabella crisis had me thinking some seriously uncomfortable shit. What would Mom say if she found out I was the reason Mrs. Isabella, was suddenly single, satisfied but with a divorce under her status, because to me?

Would she sigh? Would she cry? Or would she just stare at me over her steaming mug of herbal "I told you so" blend and ask,

"Peter, darling, couldn’t you have found a slightly less... explosive hobby? Like collecting rare stamps? Or juggling chainsaws?"

*****

A/N:

Guys, the next Chapter will Peter’s moral monologue and whatever you can call it. But it is nice.