Chapter Eighty Eight

Chapter Eighty Eight
Gabriel
The sunlight streaming into the room from the open window had stirred me awake. Slowly, I opened my eyes one at a time, squinting at the alarm clock on the bedside table before letting out a heavy sigh.

My body ached, my head pounded, and my heart felt even worse. Sitting up, I rubbed my hands over my face, then reached for the glass of water and the two white pills waiting beside it. I tossed them into my mouth and washed them down in one gulp, praying they’d work fast enough to dull the jackhammer in my skull.

“Good. You’re awake now.”

The glass nearly slipped from my hand. I turned, startled, to see my mother standing in the doorway that led to the balcony. For a moment, I wondered if I was still dreaming.

Then I glanced around and realized the cruel truth—I was in my father’s house. Worse… in my old bedroom. The one I had sworn never to sleep in again.

“Mom?” My voice cracked, as if I needed to confirm she wasn’t just a hallucination brought on by last night’s alcohol poisoning.

“The last time you drank so much you started hallucinating was the day before your wedding to Lucille,” she said matter-of-factly, striding into the room. She didn’t sit, didn’t soften. She was here on a mission.

She looked beautiful, as always—her crisp white shirt tucked into matching pants, elegance radiating from her even in her disapproval. Out of instinct, and desperation to lighten the moment, I told her as much.

Predictably, she brushed it off without so much as a blink. She knew me too well. She knew it was just a pathetic attempt to throw her off track.

“All work, all seriousness, and no play makes a man dull, Mom,” I muttered.

“Uh-huh.” Her sharp eyes didn’t waver. “That’s why you were calling out to Arian not to leave you last night?” One brow arched, skeptical and cutting.

My face drained of color. “What?”

“We were all there,” she said flatly. “Crying, begging… it was pitiful.”

“Real tears?” I asked with a wince, already knowing the answer.

“Just avoid looking your siblings in the eye. They were embarrassed for you. I know I was.”

I fell back against the pillows, sighing heavily. The shame burned worse than the hangover. “Why did he bring me here anyway?” I grumbled. “My house would’ve been just fine.”

“I asked him the same thing. He said something about not wanting to see Arian.” She shrugged like it didn’t matter.

“Why?” My confusion deepened, the unease curling in my gut.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” she shot back. “What I want to know is why you thought it was a great idea to get dead drunk because of a woman like her?”

I clenched my jaw, my voice hardening. “I’m not having this conversation again. Not if you’re going to talk about her in that condescending tone.”

She snapped, her composure cracking. “I was shocked to see my twenty-eight-year-old son being carried into this house by his father’s bodyguards, looking like a helpless wreck. Forgive me if I don’t sugarcoat my words right now.”

Her words dug at me. I hated that she was right. I hated that I had given them the ammunition to look down on me.

“You said yourself you’re a grown man, capable of making decisions. I didn’t see that man yesterday. All I saw was a fool letting himself be swayed by the face of a woman who’s not even half as beautiful as his wife.”

My blood boiled. I shoved the covers aside and stood, ignoring the pounding in my skull. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to this garbage. That woman will be your daughter-in-law one day. So you’d better start getting used to it.”

“¡Sobre mi cadáver!” she spat.

“Then, over your dead body it will be, mother!” The words flew out like venom, too sharp, too cruel.

“Emeliano!” My father’s icy voice cracked like a whip. I turned my glare on him. “How dare you talk to my wife like that?”

“I believe we’ve had this conversation before,” I shot back bitterly. “We nearly disowned each other then. Let’s not make that a reality, yeah? Also—make up your mind about what you’re calling me. Emerson, Emeliano—pick one. Both won’t work.” Without waiting for a response, I stormed toward the bathroom.

Behind me, I heard my mother’s voice tremble. “He’s spiraling out of control. That’s not the son we raised.”

“Let’s go,” my father muttered. “Give him time.”

Their words stung. Maybe I was spiraling. Maybe they were right. But in my mind, this wasn’t about me being weak—it was about them refusing to accept that Arian was my choice, my future.

The more I thought about it, the more dread coiled in my chest. What if they had threatened her? What if they were the reason she had ended things with me? If that were true… then I’d make good on my threat to disown them.

After showering and changing, I grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone from the nightstand. I yanked the door open only to find my younger brother standing there. I groaned loudly.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Just listen,” he said, blocking my path. “Give me a few minutes.”

I leveled my gaze at him. “You’re going to tell me I’m an asshole for treating Mom and Dad like they don’t matter, right? Then you’ll give me the tired speech about how there are a million women out there better than Arian, and that I’m a fool for clinging to a nanny. Am I right?”

His stunned silence told me everything. I clicked my tongue, patted his shoulder twice, and brushed past him.

In the hallway, my mother was speaking to a maid. I walked by without a word, straight toward the front door—until her voice stopped me.

“Are you leaving without breakfast?” she asked.

“I’m not hungry,” I muttered.

But my stomach betrayed me, growling loudly. Her faint smile cut into me, making my heart ache. Barely an hour ago, I’d thrown cruel words at her that no son should ever say.

“Your stomach says otherwise,” she remarked gently. “Breakfast is ready. We were waiting for you.”

“There won’t be any need,” I said, shaking my head. “And… I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

“It’s fine,” she replied with a shrug.

“Is it really?” I asked, unconvinced.

Her sigh carried years of weariness. “No, it’s not. But I want to understand why you want this woman in your life. Call it a mother’s instinct, but I think she’s bad for you.”

“Think of her as a sugary confectionery,” I told her. “Too much of it isn’t good for anyone… but you can’t stop yourself from wanting it. That’s how I see Arian.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. Maybe my analogy didn’t make sense—or maybe it did—but she nodded anyway.

“Fine,” she said at last. “I’ll give her a chance. Because I don’t want to lose my son. You have my blessing… if she’s the one you see yourself with forever.”

My heart pounded as I searched her face for a lie. But her smile was genuine. She meant it. Relief washed over me, so sudden and overwhelming it left me dizzy. I pulled her into a tight embrace, making her laugh.

“You really mean it?” I asked, pulling back to look at her.

“I’d rather see my son happy than miserable,” she said softly. “Go get your girl.”

Emotion burned in my throat. “I love you, Mom. And I’m sorry for being an idiot.”

“I’m the idiot,” she countered. “Forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” I smiled, though my stomach chose that moment to growl again, reminding me how empty I was.

“Breakfast?” she offered, eyes twinkling.

“Yes, please,” I admitted with a sheepish grin.

She burst out laughing, and for the first time in weeks, I felt the weight on my chest ease—just a little.