Carmen Saunders is put to the test in choosing between inclinations that she did not think she would reach and the permanent war waged in her heart when she meets the Bill Kaulitz, the man who she always dreamed of.
She fakes her own death as her w...
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"¿Quién es éste?" Angelo asked, answering the phone as he fixed the car underneath.
"It's me, Jordan. I need your help with my Ferrari," Jordan replied urgently. "Right now."
"I have a lot of car repairs to do today. I can't," Angelo said, sounding exasperated.
Angelo's car is a classic black 1967 Ford Mustang, a true icon of American cars. The hood features a distinctive scoop, hinting at the powerful engine beneath. He was a fan of old cars. He believed that he can always fix something, especially vintage with skill and dedication as a car enthusiast. Angelo wanted to do many things in his life to not make only himself proud, but it was a living proof that you can do multiple things, being a master.
"I can't come another day, you should understand that," Jordan insisted.
"Why, sir? You have all the money, why this specific car?" Angelo questioned, perplexed.
"Don't 'sir' me when I have to take out my woman. It's her favorite car! You'll repair my car today, you hear me?" Jordan demanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Jordan has a need to show off stems from a desire to maintain a certain image and status, especially in the eyes of those he values most. As a wealthy individual, he often feels the pressure to live up to the expectations of his social circle and, more importantly, to impress his significant other.
"Yes, sir. Is it okay at 10am?" Angelo asked, relenting.
"Of course, Angelo. See you soon," Jordan agreed, his tone softening.
Every detail about Jordan's lifestyle screams opulence, and the Ferrari is no exception. It's not just a car to him-it's a statement piece, a testament to his success and taste. Jordan's need to impress reaches new heights, having to overcompensate with the success he has at work as a businessman and assistant.
"Woman, I told you to not worry about what you'll wear. I can buy you the whole Versace or a whole wardrobe full of designer," Jordan said impatiently into the phone. "Oh, wait. You don't like Italian? You want something timeless, perhaps Delvaux?" Jordan paused from shouting and pacing around the streets. "Sorry, Angelo. Had to talk to her. How's everything going?"
"Like crap. I am about to get arrested," Angelo replied, taking a deep breath as he sits down on the chair.
"Why, man? What did you do?" Jordan asked, alarmed, as he sits down with his beer in hand.
"Well...You know that I confessed," Angelo admitted reluctantly.
"You killed Lola, man?" Jordan asked, shocked. "Don't you fucking tell me man that you confessed to the fucking police! You knew that the court time is coming!"
"Yeah, I feel like I shouldn't even look into your eyes," Angelo said, shame evident in his voice. "I killed the woman that I loved the most...Even my journal knows about this, Jordan!"
