Valentina

With my forehead tucked onto the windscreen, I watched it fog. The sunlight, barely strong and barely visible tainted the sky with orange hues. It all faded into a lush green canopy when the car raced into the road that led us outside the Moralez mansion. My prison.

Sure, I wasn't held in a room or tied and gagged. It was what the place made me feel. I was a prisoner of my own thoughts, actions and behavior. Constantly keeping the mask on, I forgot how to breathe. How to live.

I realized the appearance of a crack in my porcelain mask. Unraveled for a moment, I forgot my mission was to take out the head of this family. The moments since our marriage till my deal to work with the demon, he managed to affect my concentration.

Playing nice wasn't my forte, playing submissive wasn't either. Yet, the deal I struck with him had me at a disadvantage. An heir was a reason for celebration in many families but not for me. It was my ruse of keeping Antonio where I wanted him to be - away.

Though I had no intention of honoring it, I wanted him to believe so while I ensured, I had a strong foothold in the business. But in the power play, I compromised on my esteem, letting them get to my head that I was up for grabs. Me and my body.

How was I so blinded by revenge to not understand, what mattered most to me? Revenge sure, but not by compromising my body, myself.

Valentina Ramirez was neither a whore, nor a womb.

While I raced down the revenge path, it took two considerate men to enlighten me. Had it not been for Gabriela and Agustin, I would have been readying to sacrifice whatever it took for revenge. To get an upper hand, I would have done anything. But the night that was yesterday, opened my eyes. Two men, for whom I was an open invitation, conveyed I had it all wrong. That my revenge was taking a toll on me. I was losing myself.

Ashamed, I wanted to end this ruse and go home. I wanted to feel normal again. Not scared, nor playing games and definitely not trying to look for opportunities to kill the man I was married to.

I wanted to be me. Even if for a second.

The driver punched the gas, cruising inside the long driveway.

Home. The shrubs on both sides, small bushels ran parallel to us. I reminisced over the times I ran in the garden, barefoot. Mom used to read to me in there. I used to watch her and dad happy, laughing. Barely remembering the age, the silhouette of the barefoot me running all over the freshly moaned grass danced across my eyes.

Mom's laugh still oscillated in the air as we pulled under the parking dome. Over a while, her laughter diminished, till one day when it stopped. Completely.

I watch the sprinkler drench the sunlit grass. The once moaned green lawn now remains dry with long brown husks, waving with the wind. No amount of water can irrigate the garden back to life and greenery. It symbolized our current state of being. The Ramirez were now as dry and broken as the husk stems outside, dragging on our survival each second of the day.

Stepping into the cooler entrance, my vision danced around. The first time since a couple of weeks of marriage, I stood in my own home. My feet move without any control towards the open area -the place where dad spent most of his time after mom's departure.

I wasn't surprised to see him still sitting there, eying the barren land upfront. My heel clacked on the tile flooring, turning his attention to me. His face curved a smile and his hands clutched both sides of his creaking chair's armrest, pulling up.

When he embraced me, I felt a pang in my chest, rooting into my lungs. The distance may have barely been miles between our houses, the distance we created for our mission, separated us farther. I hung onto dad, taking his familiar Old Spice scent. His frame felt thin. Not that he was ever a heavily built man, he started losing what remained of his muscles ever since he donned the attire of a widower.

I saw his loosely hung shirt and pant, uncoordinated in color and style.

"Are you not eating?" were my words. At some point, children enact as their parents was an old saying. It stood true for me as I watched his wobbly frame and felt concerned. Dad laughed at my words, taking us back to our usual, sunken couch.

Burnt yellow was one color I always hated and the couch he loved sitting on, carried the same. But today the color didn't hurt my eyes. It oozed warmth and happiness.

"How are you doing?" Dad's voice was soft, lower in tone. He was never the yeller, the loudmouth; all things that I was. Sinking into the backrest, I signed, closing my eyes. His warm hands travelled over my hair, softly ruffling them. "My brave girl."

Without looking at him, I knew he was smiling. It was clear from his voice. I was indeed his brave girl. The girl who stormed into the enemy territory with nothing but a ring on her finger and a determination in her heart. I was brave to have taken up the task of eliminating the king.

Was I brave or stupid?

Antonio was a powerful man. More powerful was his whole family who took kneecaps away in their quest for power, bowing everyone to submission. I walked into their house with a simple plan. At the inception, it looked good. Nobody will doubt the queen for any harm to the king.

But what if the simplicity of the plan would render it vulnerable?

Doubts encircled my mind like scavengers to a dead body. Dad pulled back his hand and my eyes opened to view the slender legs of a man. Nicolas stood in front of me, towering over.

Nico and I had not interacted since the day he defied Antonio and was almost choked to death. He lent his hand for my taking. Pulled up, I stabilized the inertia by bumping into his broad chest. His sweet breath felt like a respite on this hot day.

Nico looks at dad and then back at me. His eyes glimmered with the question of my arrival.

Dad was quick to pick himself off the couch, turning over his shoulder, "You both talk. Let me get someone to fetch you something to drink. What do you want?"

"Beer," was said in unison before we looked at each other and laughed, much to dad's annoyance. He never understood why we were always cracking up. As dad disappeared into the hall, Nico turned towards me.

His eyes travelled over my exposed skin and I watched him like a hawk. "I was checking for bruises," he said, concern in his eyes flashing off within a moment of its appearance.

Oh.

The last time he saw me, my skin was imprinted with black, deep purple bruising. Adoring his concern, I waved my hands and shrugged my shoulder as if I was somehow confident that the incident won't repeat itself.

Nico's gaze turned, looking at the same barren spot that dad gazed at a while back. "I'm going to Spain."

His throat bobbled when he uttered his ordeal. After trying to attack Antonio, Nicolas was lucky to be kept alive. His payment - spying on our enemy, the Salazars.

My hand snaked onto his palm and our fingers fused. I saw the same determination in his eyes as were in me when I decided to marry El Dominio.

It had been a while since I referred Antonio to that name. The name that instilled fear in the minds and loyalty in the hearts. The ruthless demon who burned casinos with people in it, eliminating all of his competition in a day. Some say he was seeking revenge. For whom?

With his action, he left an imprinting message to everyone. Nobody messes with a Moralez and lives another day.

I was the fool to test the theory.

"You'll be fine, Nico. We always survive..." I assured him, patting my open palm onto our tangled fist. He shook his head sidewise as if believing my words was difficult. Yet, with a smile, he accepted it. "And when you'll come back, you can help me too." My commanding words made him look up at me. Searching for an answer, he waited. "I am also a part of the Moralez operations."

Mouth agape, he spoke volumes without uttering a single word. Clearing his throat, he questioned a simple, "How?"

My stomach rumbled, unwilling to narrate the saga, the deal that made me fled.

While we walked inside, Nico quickly held my elbow, turning me. His smiling expressions faltered. After a confirmatory scan around, he said, "I know about your mother. What happened to her and everything. I have documents which prove-"

"There you both are... Come on, let's have lunch." Dad's voice broke our conversation.

The news rocked my eardrums, thumped at my chest like a mad elephant. My skin broke out with sweat speared at every inch. My mother's death was a topic long avoided in the family. With Nico exhuming her news, I felt the stench of fear hit the inside of my nostrils, my heart and even my soul.

We walked into the dining area where the help set everything up. They stood behind, pulled chairs and awaiting our seating. As I sat beside Nico, he brushed my hand and dropped a silverware.

Bending low to pick it, I saw him imitate the same. Before I could rise, he whispered. "Don't tell this to anyone till I confirm everything. Okay?"

With my jolted nod, Nico pulled the silverware in his hand and rose, following me. His words resonated inside my mind. Not to tell anyone. But why?

What was there to know about mother? What did Nico know that I didn't?

~

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