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I tried my best to conceal my astonishment as we walked past the guards and stepped into the elevator. Andrea, beside me, wore a wry grin.
As we made our way to the hospital, I found myself appreciating Andrea more and more. His concern felt genuine, and his determination to ensure my well-being was both sweet and reassuring. The dynamics of our situation were strange, to say the least, but Andrea's presence made it a bit more manageable.
Andrea expertly maneuvered the car through the city's streets, a sleek black Mercedes-Benz gleaming under the city lights. Its elegance and sophistication were hard to miss, a testament to Andrea's success.
The contrast between my humble origins and the world he lived in was stark, and yet he made an effort to bridge that gap to help me navigate this unfamiliar territory.
As we drove, the queasiness resurfaced, not as intense as before, but enough to remind me of my discomfort. I pressed my hand against my stomach, silently grateful that the waves of nausea didn't escalate.
The last thing I wanted was to make a mess in this grand car. Who knew, maybe it even was one of Royalty Rentals’ special editions.
As Andrea guided me through the posh hallways of his hospital, I couldn't help but be impressed by the elegance of the place and the friendly efficiency of the staff. It was a far cry from the often hectic and crowded public hospitals I was used to.
Each step of the process, from registering to the tests to the consultations, was well-organized and went as smoothly as could be expected, thanks to Andrea's presence and expertise.
It was an eye-opener, showing me how different life could be with the right connections and resources. The quick and personalized attention was a luxury I had rarely experienced.
I found myself wondering if this was the everyday reality for the wealthy. A life where connections and status smoothed out the rough edges, granting access to a world of ease and privilege. It made me ponder if I was prepared for such a lifestyle, one that was so far removed from my own.
After the tests were done, Andrea drove me back to the penthouse, a precaution to avoid any suspicion if Emilio returned before me. It was a prudent move to keep my secret under wraps. Although, I could see the whole cloak and dagger thing bothered Andrea. His loyalty to his friend was endearing.
I had barely settled back into the apartment, the memory of the posh medical facility still fresh in my mind, when my phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, I noticed it was my mother. We hadn't spoken in a while, so I immediately picked up, a mix of curiosity and concern tugging at me.
"Hello, Mom," I greeted, attempting to mask the surprise in my voice.
"Griselda, sweetheart, I need to talk to you about something very important," my mother began, her tone somber and urgent.
"Of course, Mom. What's going on?" I asked, instinctively leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Someone came asking about your father," she revealed, her voice tinged with worry. "They seemed dangerous, and I'm afraid your life might be in danger."
A surge of fear and confusion shot through me. I had come to grips with my life being threatened because of my involvement with Emilio. But my father? I had grown up believing he was no longer in the picture. "What do you mean, Mom? Dad is —"
"He's alive, Griselda," she interrupted, her voice shaking with emotion. "There are things I've kept from you, things I need to explain. But for now, could you stay safe and trust me? Don't come back from holiday until I say it's okay."
The shock from her words momentarily stunned me. Was my father alive? Dangerous people were inquiring about him? Why would my life possibly be in jeopardy? It felt like a whirlwind of revelations, a storm brewing on the horizon.
"What do you mean, Mom? I need to know more. I deserve to know what's happening," I urged, my mind having gotten through to my vocal cords.
A hurried rustle of breath came through the phone.
"I promise, Griselda, I'll tell you everything when the coast is clear," my mother said anxiously, her voice tinged with desperation.
Before I could say another word, the line went dead. She had hung up.
I stood there, staring at my phone, a whirlwind of emotions crashing within me. The abruptness of our conversation left me with more questions than answers. My father, alive? It was a notion that contradicted everything I had believed for years.
My mind buzzed with disbelief, confusion, and worry. The words played on an unending loop in my head. My father was alive. How could this be? Why would my mother keep this from me? The pieces of my reality seemed to crumble, and I struggled to grasp the enormity of what had just been revealed.
I paced the apartment, restless and anxious, running scenarios in my head. What did it mean for me? What did this mean for my mother? The danger that seemed to loom over my life suddenly took on a whole new level of complexity. Was all of this somehow connected to my father's sudden reappearance?
My thoughts spiraled into a black hole.
Sinking onto the couch, I buried my face in my hands. The person I had believed to be dead was very much alive, and my mother had been keeping this secret, all while evading my questions.
Chapter 24
Emilio
