Chapter 18: The Feeling

Santiago

It's already almost midnight and I think I should go and let her rest. It's the first time I've spent an evening in the moonlight with a woman. A pure and sincere feeling. I never thought I'd say this. She's so beautiful, so perfect.

"I don't have the words," she says, her eyes fixed on the sky.

"Perfect, because I want you to remember this moment under the stars."

She closes her eyes, nestling her head against my shoulder, and I know I'm having an effect on her. We cuddle up together for a while, shining back on what's just happened. I turn my head slightly to look at her and she seems lost in thought.

"What's on your mind?"

Lowering her head, she remains silent for a few seconds, then finally decides to speak.

"Remember I asked you at the party why you didn't tell me you were a Rivera?" she says, a little embarrassed, and I nod.

"Is there something wrong? I asked, puzzled.

"You and your brother are so different compared to your father."

"How do you know Andrés?" I ask firmly.

"The next day, I went home to see Diego. He had been there when the police came to the scene of the crime and had even taken charge of Diego's funeral. I asked him if he had been sent by your father. He promised me he had nothing to do with it but was only doing his job as a lawyer. That's when he offered to help me show his sympathy. He also said he'd come and see me after his trip, to talk things over again." she continues.

Why did Andrés suddenly want to help Orely? Is he involved? What's he up to? I'll have to keep a very close eye on him. But for the time being, I keep on listening to her, and given her reaction, she has things to confide in me and I have questions to ask her to understand what she's getting at.

Damn it! I can't help looking at her, feeling her human warmth when she's near me.

"Hmm, I see. And what about my father? Why do you compare him to us? Do you know him that well?" I demanded in mystification.

"Miguel Rivera? How could I not know him? I'm pretty sure he's the one who ordered Diego's death."

This revelation hits me hard. I had my doubts about it, but she's convinced it's him.

"How could this be? He was at the engagement party that night."

"The perfect alibi. He could very well have hired hitmen to carry out his plan, simple as that. And now if he knows what happened between us, he'll probably want to kill me," she retorts dryly.

"It won't happen. I promise you that. I'm going to do everything I can to get to the bottom of this, and if he's involved, I won't spare him. He's hurt me enough as it is," I say, hugging her.

"What do you mean?", she asks, all confused.

"That's another story. I'll tell you another time," I said, clenching my fists.

We finally get up and I help her dress by zipping up her dress, then she hands me my shirt.

"I get to go now, and I've had a wonderful night with you. I'll call you," I say, placing a soft kiss on the tip of her nose, and she nods.

Furious, I stroll to my car, gazing is as dark as the devil's.

"I'll make sure I find out everything.

I return home, unable to sleep a wink after that superb night turned sour. I throw on my sweatpants and head out to the gym. My gaze is as dark as death, following its sinister revelations, which seem to carry the weight of a nebulous world on my shoulders. My eyes, once bright with hope and curiosity, are now veiled by a deep shadow, reflecting unmentionable secrets and frightening truths I'm discovering. All it takes is one simple word to change everything. I hit the punching bag with all my might, giving off an evil aura due to the anger and contempt buried deep inside me. This anger against my father, like a burning flame, consumes my inner being, transforming into a source of negativity that affects those around me. Every gesture, every word he utters seems imbued with this muted rage, creating a heavy, oppressive atmosphere. In my tormented mind, the few memories of happy times that remain fade, replaced by nightmarish images that haunt me. Caught up in my rage and disturbed by these rantings that are eating away at me, with a sudden movement, I hit the punching bag with a kick. I move away from the speedbag to wipe my face.

It's almost four o'clock in the morning, I rush off to take a shower to freshen up, and then I recall the magic of that first night spent with Orely under the light of the moon, a memory engraved forever in the recesses of my heart. A summer's night, when the air was soft and fragrant with nocturnal flowers. The moon, full and bright, bathed the landscape in a silvery glow, creating an almost fairytale-like atmosphere. Orely is the only one capable of easing the tension deep in my soul. Far from the hustle and bustle and artificial lights, the sky was dotted with twinkling stars, and the whisper of wind in the trees seemed to whisper ancient secrets. Her gentle, understanding gaze seems to have the power to pierce the walls of anger that surround me. Whenever I think of her, an aura of serenity surrounds me, as if she brings with her a breath of peace.

I still remember her gaze, illuminated by the moonlight, and the way her eyes shone with an intensity that captivated me. Every gesture, every smile, every shiver of our closeness was charged with a delicious tension. As the night wore on, we drew closer, our hands brushing shyly against each other before intertwining. The feel of her skin against mine was electrifying, as if the world around us had faded away, leaving only this bubble of magic and intimacy. We'd shared our first kiss, soft and hesitant, then more passionate, as if the moon itself were encouraging us to get carried away by our emotions and ardent desires. That night, I discovered not only the beauty of budding love, but also the magic of shared moments, exchanged glances and whispered promises. Every detail, every sensation, was engraved in my memory.

But as soon as hatred takes over, every glance I cast around me is imbued with a tangible melancholy, as if I were seeing beyond appearances, perceiving this notion of things, both fragile and cruel. Every interaction becomes a fool's game, where trust is a luxury, and yet deep inside me, a glimmer of hope persists, a will to understand in order to overcome this ordeal. Part of me knows that, despite the darkness that surrounds me, there is still this path to redemption and inner peace.

To get there, I have to confront my demons, delve into the depths of my being and unearth the truths that so frighten me. A perilous journey indeed, but perhaps the only way to rediscover the light and give meaning to my existence. I've got a plan in mind and I'm going to use it not only to protect myself but to get even. However, before I do anything, I'm going to take my time working out the execution of my project, because there'll be no turning back once I've put it into action. Alvaro and Luis will give me a detailed report on all the research I'm waiting for, and then I'll be so invincible that even my father won't be able to look at me the same way he used to. This dynamic creates a detectable hostility, fueling the narrative of a battle not only external, but also internal, where each character is confronted with his own demons. I'll make him eat dust, and fear will show in his face.

I want to see him suffer, where fright and worry envelop him like a hurricane, choking him like falling into the open sea and engulfing him without the slightest compassion for him. And I'll be watching from behind my sunglasses, with a glass of whisky in my hand. The monster has awakened in me and it's making a mess of things, giving me satisfaction and dark joy. In the depths of my being, an unsuspected force points its nose, like a long-dormant volcano ruminating, ready to pour its lava on my father's world, or rather on him directly. I'm feeling a surge of energy, an effervescence that pushes me to act, to break the chains of my daily routine.

Just thinking about it makes my eyes smoke with misfortune, spreading chaos all over my path. My vengeance will be as terrible as a dish best served cold.