BOOK 1
Veronica Garcia, a smart and beautiful fifteen-year-old, had endured enough of her stepfather's abuse. One fateful night, during his drunken rage, she seized her chance to escape, fleeing to her abuelo's mansion for solace. However, her newfo...
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Veronica's POV
The ride to Uncle Diego's house was relatively blurry. I was lost in thoughts, unsure of what would happen to me or how things would change in the future.
It was difficult not to get weary and frustrated when I had no idea what was going to happen or what changes were awaiting for me.
I kept wondering about where I would go.
Would I end up in a safe home or in a situation much worse than what I lived before?
Whatever it is that I end up with, I only have three more years to deal with it before I officially start looking out for myself, just as I have always have.
My thoughts were all over the place creating a haywire of mess in my head.
As I sat in the backseat of the car, Uncle Diego turned to me as, his voice calling out to me, jolted me out of my trance.
"If there's anything you need, feel free to ask me. I'm here for you."
Uncle Diego said in a humble and empathetic tone, as his sympathetic eyes looked at me in concern.
Can I ask him for a million dollars?
I didn't respond to him, instead just nodded my head as I turned my face to look out the window.
For the remainder of the drive, we sat in silence as I went back to draining myself with questions of what might happen.
Once the car stopped outside another mansion, Uncle Diego exited the vehicle and came to open my door as he waited for me to step out of the car.
How rich are these men?
"Lets go, Diabla" He said kindly.
"How rich are these guys?" I muttered to myself as we walked closer to the mansion.
But my voice was audible enough for Uncle Diego to reward me with a chuckle.
What's the deal with everyone always laughing?
Life's not all peachy–
"You, Diabla, are just as rich as the rest of us." Uncle Diego said, smiling at me.
I successfully avoided his stare as I turned to look away from him. I certainly didn't believe him.
We walked through the front door towards wherever they were going, while I let my gaze wander around taking in the mansion's beautiful interior. My steps froze in place just as we entered the living room, and I looked around in shock. It looked so grand and extraordinary.
"DAD, WHEN IS VERONICA COMING OVER? I HAVE INVITED SOME FRIENDS OVER!" Miguel suddenly yelled whiningly, looking at his phone.
I instantly flinched as my shoulders turned tense from the sudden yelling.
I was hoping that nobody noticed but then my eyes made contact with Miguel who was already staring back at me in confusion, most likely because he saw me flinching, and I immediately looked away from him in panic
His yelling released the unpleasant memories of Ricardo yelling at me, which usually always ended in him beating me up.
I was so glad that I've mastered a blank expression which my face automatically formed into, whenever my anxiety and dread began to build up.
I was so glad that I've mastered a blank expression which my face automatically formed into, whenever my anxiety and dread began to build up.
"Why the fuck are you staring?" Miguel seeths at me.
This immediately changed my entire demeanour, as a scoff left my mouth at the stupidity of this boy.
"You, who else im not staring at the fucking wall am I? And If you have a problem with that then do me a favour and shove it up your dumb ass." I said calmly, as my blank eyes gave him an unconcerned and empty look.
"Say that again–" Miguel took a step forward, his eyes challenging me to repeat it.
I'm definitely going to die today—
"I asked, oh so kindly, for you to Fuck off." I said, taking a daring step forward myself.
And, contrary to what I said, I was about to shit my pants—
After a few agonising minutes of just glaring at each other, Miguel and I were snapped out of our intense duel by a voice that resonates in the now-completely silent room.
"Cale a boca, garoto. Não seja tão rude, ela é da família. Protegemos a família. Seu Abuelo está morto e você está sendo horrível com seu primo." Uncle raises his cold voice at Miguel.
What language is that?
"Suba, garoto, não quero que você seja horrível com Verônica, e juro por Satã, garoto, se você mencionar uma palavra sobre os negócios da família. Você não viverá para ver outro dia. Filho ou não." He carries on his teeth gritting.
Every colour on Miguel's face drained from this cold, dangerous and authoritative voice which caused everyone's gaze to turn to look at the source of Uncle's voice, including mine.
I wonder what he said?
Miguel stomps upstairs leaving me and Uncle in the living room. "I'm sorry about his Ignorant behaviour, Diabla." Uncle apologises.
"Uncle?" I question.
"Mhm" He responds.
"Why do you call me Diabla?" I ask
He lightly chuckles "Well Veronica, Ever since you were younger, I have always called you 'little Diabla' but you have grown up now so I think 'Diabla' will do. But carrying on, I always called you Diabla because when you were younger, you were always such a troublemaker causing chaos wherever you went, Like a Diablo. You were always such a sassy diva, and I loved it. It was your personality." He explains.
Even though it was a very small and negligible thing, it made me happy to know that he cared enough to want me to use their name.
"Now Veronica, I need you to tell me what happened." He says
I want to get far away from this place as soon as possible. I want to start fresh. I take a deep breath. He stares at me intimidatingly as I start to explain what happened.
30 minutes later, Uncle knows everything that happened, and to say he is angry is an understatement.
He is muttering under his breath, not loud enough for me to hear, but loud enough for me to understand that he is fuming.
Silence fills the room, Until.
"Veronica, there is something important I have to tell you," he states.
