Page 15 of Ruthless Rival

I looked up at him with a pointed expression. Of course, if anyone noticed I was on edge, it would be Iso since he was always by my side nearly 24/7. “I don’t know the location of my… meeting tonight,” I said. “I forgot to write it down, but I remembered something about Por Qué No.”

“If I may, boss, is this a lady you’re meeting with?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Iso glanced past me at all of the suits draped on the bed and piled up on the floor. He looked back at me. “I know this place. Just wear something casual, boss. No suits,” he insisted.

I wanted to question him, but I had to dig out some casual clothes now. With a nod of gratitude, I shut the door after he went out and headed back into my closet, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into by indulging this woman.

Chapter Seven:Wage War

Gabriela

Silent tension filled the room as my family watched the intense stand-off between me and my fuming father. His harsh words threatened to prick my skin like needles, but I stood firm. My skin had to be as tough as stone having a father like him.

“You made your own daughter a childless widow,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on him.

My father chuckled in a low tone, threatening to send shivers down my spine. He stepped toward me, and every cell in my body told me to step back, but I held my ground. He smelled like cigars and leather, the scent assaulting my nose.

“You chose that fate for yourself,” he replied. “You knew what would happen if you disobeyed me, and you did it anyway.”

“Because I was in love. Don’t you understand? Don’t you remember how you felt toward my mother?” I asked him, trying to search deep within him for his heart. He must’ve had one at some point. Everyone was born with one.

“Don’t try to pull that card on me. She was a means to an end, a way to further the Castillo legacy, which you won’t ever be a part of,” my father replied in a firm voice.

His words made my stomach clench. How could he be so terrible? Part of him had to care for my mother before she passed away when I was young. How could he have children with her if he didn’t? “I used to try my hardest to believe that you had something close to a soul,” I said quietly, my voice bordering on a hiss.

When I was a child, not even a teenager, I wanted to love my own father, to feel connected to him. What child didn’t? I hadn’t been completely aware of all the terrible things he did, but I knew that he wasn’t as kind and caring as other people’s fathers. It wasn’t fair to me. Why could they have great fathers and I couldn’t?

For a long time, I thought I was the one who did something wrong. Maybe I had a bad father because I didn’t share my animal crackers with one of my classmates who’d asked for a few. Maybe it was because I failed that math test or got in trouble for talking during quiet time at lunch.

I tried to be the best daughter ever, getting good grades, and staying out of trouble for the most part. I didn’t ask my father for much besides some money for field trips or a new pair of shoes when my pink and white sneakers started falling apart. He always made a big deal out of everything like he did now, trying to flood me with guilt.

Now, it was clear to me that my father’s soullessness wasn’t my fault. I just tried to be a kid, and Carlos was more of a father figure to me than my own dad, which was sad. This had forced Carlos to grow up too fast as well because he had to look after his baby sister when our father was out killing people, stealing money, or messing around with hookers.

My father met my gaze. “Big mistake,” he replied, sounding amused and agitated at the same time somehow.

I stared back at him and wondered how brown eyes could appear to be so cold? I clenched my jaw as we stared each other down. Honestly, he was right. Thinking he had loved my mother or anyone had been a big, naïve mistake on my part. One, I wouldn’t ever make again. I couldn’t assume things about people any longer because most people were liars in one form or another.

“Being my daughter doesn’t excuse you from punishment. Stand in my way, and you’ll learn another lesson,” my father warned me.

My eyes shifted over to Ignacio, who looked like he was itching to jump to my defense. I subtly shook my head, not wanting him to put a target on his own forehead. My father was itching to fight, to relieve his frustrations over the condition of his son.

“Do you not give your own family a choice?” I asked my father. “We’re not your puppets. You can’t just punish us when we don’t always do what you want.” I glanced around at my uncles, my cousins, and other family members, wishing they would break out of my father’s spell.

They either stared at the ground to avoid my gaze, or they glared at me, ready to stand by my father no matter what. Disappointment flooded me as I shook my head. They were an army of puppets, hanging from strings that my father controlled.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand family values,” my father scoffed. “Do you even care that the Mancinis did this to your brother?”

I swallowed hard as my eyes shifted over to Carlos. If he was awake right now, he would’ve acted as mediator between us, trying to calm us both, despite being a relentless, hotheaded troublemaker to others. He laid there still and quiet though, letting me and my father’s argument rage on.

“They didn’t drive his car into a tree,” I said. I was tired of the blame being put on the Mancinis. Their plantation house was set on fire and one of the daughters had been nearly kidnapped. The two cartel deaths and Carlos’ accident were consequences of actions that never should’ve been done in the first place.

My father suddenly lunged toward me, stopping himself right before touching me.

I automatically flinched, putting my hands up to defend myself. When I didn’t feel any pain, I opened my eyes and peered through my fingers, my heartbeat throbbing in my ears.

My father had his hand raised, but he didn’t bring it down on me. He merely shook his head at me with a cold laugh. “You’re not even worth it,” he said before retreating to his son’s bedside. He took a seat and chuckled to himself, a few of my cousins and uncles echoing his laughter.

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