Chapter 32: Chapter Thirty One

Leonardo 

Inside the private room, Eros lay propped against white pillows, his complexion slightly paler than usual. A thick bandage was wrapped around his side, and a smaller one covered a wound near his hairline. Even with the painkillers dulling the worst of it, his sharp gaze met mine the moment I entered.

“About time,” Eros murmured, his voice tinged with dry amusement. “Thought you’d be too busy to check if I was still breathing.”

I sighed, pulling a chair closer to the bed. “Shut up and rest, Eros.”

Eros gave a faint smirk. “Can’t. I have a feeling this is just the beginning.” He muttered.

I studied my son's face, relief washing over me at the confirmation that he was going to be fine. More than that, I was grateful—grateful that he was awake, aware, and even happy to see me. 

A part of me hoped this ordeal might bridge the gap between us, and might finally mend what had been broken for so long. 

But knowing Eros—his pride, his stubbornness—I wasn’t foolish enough to expect an easy reconciliation. Maybe, just maybe, this was a step forward.

Turning to the doctor, I pressed for reassurance. "You're absolutely certain he's going to be fine?"

"Yes," the doctor confirmed. "He's lucky. It could have been much worse."

My jaw tightened, fists clenching at my sides. "Lucky?" The word came out in a low, dangerous growl, my barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface. "He was shot." My gaze flickered back to Eros, as if reassuring myself that he was still there, still breathing.

Eros smirked despite the pain. "I’m fine, Dad. Stop looking like you're about to kill someone."

I ignored him, my focus returning to the doctor. "How long before he can leave?"

"We’ll monitor him for a few hours. If there are no complications, he can be discharged by morning."

Eros exhaled, some of the tension in his body easing. The doctor gave a brief nod before exiting the room, leaving behind a thick silence. Finally, I sank into the chair beside the bed, my expression grim.

"Did you see who did it?" My voice was quieter now, more measured.

Eros shook his head. "No. It was fast. Professional."

Nathaniel, who had followed us in, muttered a curse under his breath. "Someone wanted to send a message."

My gaze darkened. "Then they’ll get one in return." Whoever had done this would pay—no one laid a hand on my son and walked away unscathed.

Eros closed his eyes briefly, and for a fleeting moment, I considered reaching out, brushing his hair back like I used to when he was younger. But I hesitated. We weren’t there yet. Baby steps. I let my hand drop.

"Nathaniel," I said, shifting my focus, "I need you to pull the café's CCTV footage, dash cams—hell, even SkyTrace’s surveillance. I want to know who’s behind this."

Nathaniel nodded. "Already on it. Once we’ve got something, I’ll send you a report."

"Good." I nodded, then winced as another thought hit me. "You didn’t… call my father, did you?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "No, sir." He assured me. "But if he’s seen the news, he knows by now."

As if on cue, my phone vibrated in my suit jacket. I pulled it out, grimacing when I saw my mother’s name flashing on the screen. Danetta Baez-Belmonte was even worse than my father when it came to doting on Eros. She adored the kid beyond reason.

With a sigh, I answered. "Hey… Mom." Running a hand through my hair, I braced myself for the inevitable interrogation.

"Leonardo, how’s my baby doing? I saw the news." Her voice trembled with barely contained panic. "Is he okay? Let me speak to him."

"He’s fine, Mom," I reassured her. "No internal bleeding, no damaged organs. He’s asleep."

She exhaled sharply, but relief was fleeting. "And where the hell were his bodyguards when this happened? What were they doing that they couldn’t protect him?" Her tone shifted from anxious to furious. "I should fire the whole lot of them."

"Don’t worry about it, Mom. I’ll take care of everything," I said, trying to pacify her.

She huffed in frustration. "It kills me that I can’t be there with him."

Mom had been in South Africa for some First Lady event—one of those high-profile international gatherings. A diplomatic event or charity initiative, I wasn’t entirely sure. She was supposed to return in two weeks, but I knew her. After what happened to Eros, she’d cut her trip short without a second thought.

"He’ll still be here when you get back," I reminded her.

"I know that," she snapped. "Doesn’t mean I’ll worry any less."

"I’m here, and I’ll take care of him."

There was a beat of silence before she clicked her tongue. "Well, it’s about time you stepped up to your responsibilities as a father, don’t you think?"

I clenched my jaw but didn’t respond.

"Make sure you tell him I called, okay? And have him call me."

"Okay, Mom. Bye, Mom."

"Give him a big kiss for me," she added just as I was about to hang up.

"Sure," I drawled, ending the call before she could say anything else.

Eros would have my head if I so much as touched him, let alone kissed him. The thought stung more than I cared to admit. I had never done something as simple as that for my own son, and now the very idea was laughable. I had failed him in more ways than one, but I hoped—God, I hoped—it wasn’t too late to make things right.

An hour later, an email from Nathaniel landed in my inbox. It contained the details of those responsible for the shooting, along with surveillance footage.

I opened the video first. My spine went rigid as I watched. Then I moved to the email, my stomach knotting as I read the name attached to the car used in the attack.

It couldn’t be. My pulse pounded. This had to be a mistake.

Disbelief coursed through me as I immediately dialed Nathaniel. He picked up on the first ring.

"Are you certain about this information?" I asked, skipping any pleasantries.

"Yes, sir," Nathaniel confirmed. "I was just as surprised when I found out." A brief pause. Then, hesitantly, he added, "Isn’t she… um… your fiancée?"

"Ex-fiancée," I corrected flatly, my voice tight. "I bought her that car for her birthday six months ago."

There was a brief pause before Nathaniel spoke again. "Should I contact the police? If she realizes she's a suspect, she might try to flee the country."

"No," I said immediately. "She signed a two-year contract with Starling Entertainment. Fleeing now would be a breach of contract. Besides, she’s currently filming a new movie. She won’t risk disappearing.”

"So, what are you going to do?" Nate asked, his voice measured.

I dragged a hand down my face as Vivienne’s parting words echoed in my mind. She had sworn I would regret leaving her—I just never imagined she would take her revenge out on my son. That alone filled me with a rage I couldn’t ignore. Letting her walk away unpunished was not an option.

"You know what? Call the police and have her arrested," I said, my voice cold with resolve. "No one hurts my boy and gets away with it."

"Very well, sir. I'll update you once it’s done," Nate replied.

"Thanks, Nate." I ended the call and exhaled slowly, forcing myself to rein in my emotions before stepping back into Eros’s hospital room.

He was awake, eyes fixed on the television. Judging by the way he was intently focused on the TV, as if whatever he was watching truly held his interest, I knew he had managed to compose himself. 

He had slipped back into the version of himself that could barely stand to be in the same room with me—and I couldn’t blame him.

I had done too many things I could never undo. And at the same time, I had done nothing for him when he needed me most. After his mother passed away, I left him to face his grief alone while I drowned mine in the only way I knew how—by seeking comfort in the arms of other women.

"Hey, do you need anything?" I asked.

Eros didn’t look away from the screen. "Do you know who did this?"

"Uh, yeah." I gave a short nod. "Vivienne."

He didn’t react—not a flicker of surprise, not even a change in posture. His face remained impassive as he continued watching the TV.

My gaze shifted to the bedside table, where a folder sat. Curiosity piqued, I crossed the room to take a look and reached for it, but before I could open it, Eros stopped me.

"What’s this?" I asked, lifting a brow.

"None of your business," he said sharply.

I held up my hands in surrender. "I could help with whatever is bothering you."

"Do I look the least bit bothered to you?" He shot back.

"You’re very good at hiding your emotions." I replied, studying him.

He scoffed. "Well, you’ve been an excellent teacher, then," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I sighed. "Eros, look—"

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?" he interrupted.

I hesitated. "That depends," I said cautiously. "What exactly are you hiding?"

"I’m not hiding anything," he muttered, then paused. "It’s about…" His voice trailed off.

"About?" I pressed.

"Athena Sanderson." He muttered.

My expression darkened, shifting from concern to annoyance. My brows furrowed. "I didn’t know you were friends with her."

"I’m not," he snapped.

"Then what about her?"

"She’s been missing for a week, and her parents aren’t doing anything about it. Her sister claims she ran away after stealing from their mother, but I know for a fact that’s not true."

"You’re sure she didn’t steal from Beatrix? How would you know that if you weren’t there?" I questioned.

Eros’s jaw tightened. "Because…" He hesitated before exhaling sharply. "I gave her the money." He admitted, his voice low.