Chapter 101: Facing the Truth
When night fell, Analú, her heart racing, decided to call Nicolás. The need to speak with him, to understand what had happened between them, was consuming her. She thought they could finally clarify the situation that kept them in silence, but as the minutes passed without an answer, anxiety began to take over. She kept trying, refusing to give up, until the call finally connected.
Hoping Nicolás was on the other end of the line, Analú tried to speak, but something wasn’t right. She couldn’t hear his voice, only a distant noise. At first, she thought it was a bad connection, but after waiting a few more seconds, a familiar laugh reached her ears. It was Britney’s voice, soft and affectionate.
– Love, I adore every moment I spend with you. You’re a wonderful man. Any woman who’s ever rejected you has no idea what she lost – Britney said, her tone overly sweet, almost too false to be real.
Analú froze. Her chest tightened, and a wave of frustration and jealousy overwhelmed her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and the worst part was that Nicolás wasn’t there to defend himself or explain. It felt as if something inside her had shattered. Britney’s words kept echoing in her mind, each one sharper than the last.
Desperate and hurt, and unaware that Britney had been the one to answer the phone, she hung up without thinking twice. She slumped onto the mansion’s sofa, shut her eyes tightly, and began lightly hitting her head with her hands, as if trying to erase those words she couldn’t stop hearing. Confusion enveloped her, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She didn’t understand. Why hadn’t Nicolás answered her? Why had Britney answered instead? It all felt like a cruel joke of fate.
At that moment, Mateo and Alexia, who had just returned from an outing, entered the house quietly, not wanting to disrupt the tense atmosphere that lingered in the air. When they saw Analú sitting alone on the couch, mumbling softly to herself, they approached. They decided to listen for a moment before startling her, as they often did to break the tension.
– Why are you hitting that cushion and calling it Nicolás? – Mateo teased with a mischievous smile, but Alexia gave him a serious look, as if she sensed something deeper in Analú’s behavior.
Embarrassed and still struggling with the whirlwind of emotions tormenting her, Analú lifted her gaze and let out a deep sigh. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened or explain what she’d just overheard, so she responded evasively:
– I’ll tell you later.
But her friends wouldn’t let her off that easily. They stood there, watching her, waiting for her to say something, but Analú wasn’t ready to share.
Just then, the front door creaked open, and the imposing footsteps of Frederick Michelini, Alexia’s father, filled the room with his presence. As he entered, the mansion’s atmosphere shifted instantly, as if an invisible weight had settled over everyone present. Alexia, who until that moment had maintained an unsettling calm, felt her face harden into a cold, distant expression. Her eyes gleamed with intensity, but not with affection—rather, with a contained fury that seemed to burn inside her.
Unaware of the storm brewing in his home, Frederick looked at her with a paternal smile.
– Hello, sweetheart. I’m glad to see you at home – he greeted, letting out a sigh of relief after a long day at work. But the response he received from his daughter wasn’t what he expected.
Alexia, crossing her arms in a defiant posture, raised an eyebrow, and her voice came out cold, slicing through the air like a knife.
– Which of us are you calling sweetheart? – she asked, letting the weight of her words linger in the room.
The businessman frowned, confused by the sharp tone his daughter had just used. He couldn’t understand her sudden change in attitude, and his gaze filled with puzzlement. His mind struggled to grasp what was happening.
– I don’t understand what you mean. You’re my daughter – he replied, trying to regain control of the situation, though his voice sounded hollow, as if he wasn’t so sure anymore.
But Alexia wasn’t about to let the moment pass. A shiver ran down her spine as she noticed the vacant expression on her father’s face, as if everything she’d believed until now was crumbling at her feet. It was then she dropped the real bomb, words that had been kept inside for so long, now spilling from her lips with the force of a tsunami.
– Are you sure about that, daddy? – she pressed, emphasizing the word daddy as though each syllable was a reproach to the lie she had lived for years.
Frederick blinked several times, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The smile he’d worn when he entered completely vanished, replaced by deep confusion. His daughter’s question, laced with subtle venom, pierced his chest like a sharp spear. What did Alexia mean by those words? What did she know that he wasn’t ready to admit? A cold sweat began to trickle down his forehead as his mind wavered between confusion and fear.
But Alexia didn’t let silence reign any longer. Her gaze became even more piercing, as if she were seeing right through her father, as if she knew something he’d hidden all his life. The tension between them grew palpable, almost unbearable. The air thickened with every passing second, as though a storm was about to break.
– Are you really going to look me in the eyes and tell me that everything you’ve done over the years has been out of “love”? – her words slid like daggers, each one hitting harder than the last.
The atmosphere was charged with a tension that could be felt in every corner of the room. It was as if the air had grown thicker, making it even hard to breathe. No one dared to break the silence, and the echo of Alexia's last words seemed to bounce off the walls, amplifying the weight of the confrontation. The glances exchanged between father and daughter were like a silent battle, filled with repressed emotions and unspoken questions. Mateo and Analú, who were watching from a corner, appeared frozen, caught in the scene, unsure whether to intervene or simply remain as witnesses to a moment that would change everything. Frederick, visibly uncomfortable, tried to maintain a façade of authority, but his rigid posture and the sweat running down his forehead betrayed his apparent control. Alexia, on the other hand, did not falter; her gaze remained a reflection of the anger and pain she had accumulated over the years, and her body radiated a mixture of defiance and vulnerability that filled the room with an energy impossible to ignore.