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When she passed away, our world shattered. My father's grief was palpable, his shoulders slumped and his spirit broken.
Yet, even in the depths of his sorrow, he clung to his principles, refusing to let go of the values that had defined him.
He channeled his pain into ensuring that her memory would live on through us, teaching me to be a man of integrity and strength, just as he believed she would have wanted.
But as time went on, I witnessed a change in my father. The loss had transformed him, making him more resolute and distant.
He became stricter, his expectations higher, as if he believed that by instilling discipline and responsibility in me, he could shield me from the harsh realities of life.
I understood that his actions were driven by the fear of losing another loved one, of facing another void that could never be filled.
And so, he became my mentor, guiding me with a firm hand and imparting lessons that often felt like trials.
His words carried weight, and his gaze held expectations that sometimes felt impossible.
Despite the challenges, I knew he was doing his best to preserve the legacy of my mother's love and the principles they had both held dear.
So, I embraced his teachings, striving to live up to the standards he had set for me.
As I sat in my office, memories of those formative years played through my mind like scenes from a long-forgotten movie.
I was drawn out of my musings by the persistent ringing of my phone on the desk.
Sighing softly, I picked it up, glancing at the caller ID before answering. It was my secretary, Emily.
"Yes, Emily?" I spoke with a touch of formality.
"Mr. De Luca, I hope I'm not disturbing you," Emily's polite voice came through.
"Not at all, Emily. What can I do for you?"
I leaned back in my chair, my thoughts shifting from the past's complexities to the present's practicalities.
"I just wanted to remind you about the upcoming business event," she said. "The annual tech gala is in two days. Your presence has been confirmed."
Ah, the tech gala. This event would undoubtedly be filled with genuine innovators and those seeking to use the occasion to further their agendas.
It was a necessary part of the game, one I had learned to navigate easily.
"Of course, Emily. Thank you for the reminder. Please make sure everything is set for the event," I replied.
"Mr. De Luca. I've already taken care of the arrangements. The venue, guest list, and your speaking slot – everything is set."
"Good job, Emily. I appreciate your thoroughness," I commended her.
"Thank you, Mr. De Luca. Is there anything else I can assist you with?"
I considered for a moment before responding. " Emily, could you send me the latest financial reports? I want to review them before the gala."
"Of course, Mr. De Luca. I'll have them sent to your email shortly."
"Thank you, Emily. That will be all for now."
As I ended the call, I leaned forward and steepled my fingers, my thoughts once again drifting back to the conversation I had with Antonio and the troubling information he had uncovered about my uncle's ambitions.
The tech gala would allow me to gather information, observe the dynamics among the attendees, and ensure that my interests remained safeguarded amidst the business networking and public speeches.
With a determined exhale, I refocused my attention on the tasks at hand. The tech gala awaited, and I had a role in the intricate web of business and power.
