In the heart of a modern city, two rival families hold the power. Valentina, a fiercely loyal daughter, and Matteo, a cunning and determined son, find themselves on opposite sides of a dangerous feud. But when their paths unexpectedly intertwine, th...
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After Valentina's intense altercation with her mother, she came and sat beside me. I could sense the tears she was holding back, but I honestly didn't care.
It was almost amusing how she tried so hard not to show weakness, as if it would make a difference. The whole scene with her mother was dramatic, sure, but it didn't faze me.
People break down all the time—why should I care if she did?
My friend Julian, who's half Latino, later translated the conversation for me, though I didn't ask him to.
After Valentina's outburst, her mother apologized to us, then seamlessly shifted back to discussing business, like nothing had happened. Typical.
Then, with a quick glance at Julian, her mother inquired, "And you are?" After his introduction, my mother resumed talking, emphasizing how often Julian was involved in my life.
Meanwhile, Valentina got up, forcing a smile as she extended her hand to Julian. The whole gesture felt fake, and I couldn't help but think how insignificant it was to me whether she acknowledged him or not.
As my father began outlining the terms of our so-called "relationship," I half-expected Valentina to push back, to fight against it. But she didn't. She just signed the contract without a word.
I followed suit, and just like that, she was officially my girlfriend. Not that it meant anything to me.
Right after signing, she whipped out her phone, immediately messaging that assface Logan:
-I'm so sorry about earlier I didn't know they were gonna be home
Why she cared so much about his forgiveness was beyond me. It was pathetic, really. But whatever, it wasn't my problem.
"Valentina, take Matteo and Julian to your room. We need to discuss matters privately," her father ordered, his tone making it clear he didn't want us around.
Fine by me. Valentina nodded and led us to her room like the "angel" daughter she was.
Her room had that typical girly scent—floral vanilla, or whatever it was called. It didn't impress me. The vines hanging above her bed, the heart-shaped pillow—everything about it screamed someone who wanted to seem delicate and put-together.
But what really pissed me off were the framed photographs, especially the one of her and Logan. Why the hell was that dicks face everywhere?
She sat us on her bed, her forced smile quickly vanishing as she checked her phone, her expression shifting to worry.
Typical. Always something wrong, right?
"Fuck," she muttered under her breath before apologizing, as if I cared. "Sorry, I'll be right back," she said, excusing herself to make a phone call, leaving Julian and me alone in her room.
