Page 50 of Bastian

Cordially,

Nessa

Clicking on the attachments, it takes a second for the first image to pop up on the screen, and there he is. Not even the night and shadows can conceal Sebastian as he exits a black car with dark-tinted windows and enters the Sandoval residence dressed in a dark gray suit.

Closing my eyes, I push aside yesterday’s events and focus on every night I cried myself to sleep, missing them. Hurting for Ellaiza. Searching for Sebastian in the darkest place in my mind, always coming up empty and alone. Sadness takes over me. Sadness and anger as I think back to that time. Times when I would search the internet while tears fell from my eyes to see him smiling and moving on with his life while mine was in shambles.

No, I can’t forget, and I sure as hell can’t forgive.

Knowing there’s no going back, the anger I feel inside won’t subside unless I make his life as miserable as he did mine, I dial Nessa’s extension, and wait for the phone to connect.

“Yes, boss?”

“Publish them.” That’s all I tell her.

She knows what to do next.

I’m angry. No number of kisses, letters, and excuses can make up for what he did and the pain he caused. The anger inside me has burned for too long, and at this point, I believe nothing, and no one can put it out.

BASTIAN

WAR OF HEARTS

“Everywhere I go…leads me back to you.” — A

“Fix that shit, Seba, or I’ll have no choice but to get involved.” Sandoval has been throwing tantrums all morning, irritating me to the point I am seconds away from cussing out the motherfucker and severing all ties between us and our business.

For fuck’s sake.

All this drama because of a news article.

To a rational man who cares about his image, the slandering article would be a big fucking deal, but for me? I could care less. I got the votes even with my reputation, my ties to the crime world, and the rumors circulating about my illegal businesses.

The people of this country were aware of all of this, and they still got out of bed or left their jobs to go to the nearest polls and voted for me.

I was their candidate.

A little gossip regarding my connection to the Sandoval family won’t hurt my status all that much.

Yes, maybe it might give my political adversaries something to exploit while criticizing my policies and decisions during my time in office, but they still won’t do shit. “Stop with the theatrics, Sandoval. This is not the first time the media has been up your ass, and I assure you, my friend, it certainly won’t be the last.” I murmur while finishing writing an email. One of ten I’ve sent today, and that have gone unanswered.

Still, I send them.

Because it’s her.

It’s always her, and it will always be her.

“Fuck you, cabrón. You damn well know this heat on me is not good for business. I can’t leave my home without being harassed by reporters asking shit that might get them killed if they keep it up. So, either you manage the situation and get the assholes off my dick, or I’ll have to pay them a little visit.” Sandoval sounds more than serious, and I know he’s not playing anymore. The latest news today was images of me stepping out of Sandoval’s home after one of our monthly meetings, where we discussed his underground business and played dirty poker. The news was meant to put a negative light on me. That’s what the beautiful vindictive monster that is Arianna intended when she approved the article that was published this morning.

I should be pissed. I should be finding ways to fuck with her like I would any other media outlet who screws me, over but no. Instead, I am overwhelmed with emotions raging from pride, admiration, and fuck, so much love.

Not only did she reach the stars, but she made a life for herself.

She chose her path and found her place in the world. It led her back to me.

I’m more than proud.

I admire her strength and ferocity.

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