"My daughter… How have you been?" It's been seven months since Marzia heard such words laced with feigned concern. Mary has never cared for Marzia, despite the two of them having almost similar names.
Mary has always been selfish. She's the type of mother who would rather buy a new pair of shoes than give her seven-year-old daughter money for school lunch. That's not an exaggeration because Marzia has been through that. She's not sure when it started, but it's probably when her father died.
Rolling her eyes, Marzia got straight to the point and asks, "What is it, mom?"Usually, Marzia's mom only called if she was out of money or if she was in a tight position.
"Sorry. Uhm, do you have any extra cash with you?" Mary asked without any reluctance. Judging by her tone, it seemed like she was really in need of some cash.
Marzia sighed in contempt. "So, you lost another game?"
Mary explained, "Yeah—Well, I was about to hit the pot Marzia, but I guess I was short of luck."
Out of frustration, Marzia stood up and walked to the balcony. Upon opening the glass door, a blast of cold air greeted her face, making her hair fly to her back. She calms herself down before saying, "Mom, I've told you a hundred times to stop gambling, didn't I? And you promised me last time that you wouldn't do it again too! I'm not capable of sustaining your addiction, for God's sake!"
"Just this time, sweetheart." Mary paused for a while and then fumbled as she spoke. "This will be the last time, I promise… Please, help me."
Marzia rubbed her palms on her forehead. "You have said that a thousand times!"
At this moment, Marzia felt her impending tears. She looks ahead at the shining buildings with contempt. Ever since she was a child, she had never felt her mother's love. Mary would always be out in the morning and be back in the morning in a sour mood, hungover even. Still, Marzia thought that it was a little better because Mary wasn't a gambling addict. She's just, a notorious sugar baby who has ruined tens of marriages.
Looking back, maybe Mary would sell Marzia if the situation didn't favor her before. It's the main reason why the young lady left her, after all. Marzia can only shiver at the thought.
"Please, honey? Just this time, help your mama. Ask Scott for money. We know that seven grand is just pocket money for him," Mary pleaded on the phone.
"We're over, mom!" Marzia burst out. She hated hearing those words from Mary, but what she despised more is the fact that her mother didn't even know. Mary didn't attend the disastrous wedding yesterday because she was too busy gambling, probably.
With that, Marzia recalled one of the other reasons why she has been trapped in Scott's hands. Whenever Mary was in a bind, he would pay all of her debts. It just sealed the deal for Marzia that she wasn't allowed to leave that man, but things are different now. There's no Scott for Mary to rely on any longer…
"What? Y—You guys broke up?" Mary's tone was laced with disbelief and regret. "Marzia, you can't… Come back to him. He can give you a good life."
"That's not for you to decide. I'm hanging up," Marzia says, about to hang up, but Mary spoke again.
"I'm gonna die!" Mary screamed in fear.
Knitting her brows, Marzia asks, "What do you mean your gonna die? Stop manipulating me. That won't work anymore. I told you, we're over, so it's time for you to get your ass out of the casino."
"No, Marzia… I'm gonna get killed. The one who beat me… They're Russians."
Scoffing, Marzia comments, "Wow. That's extremely xenophobic—"
"The man I'm indebted to has killed some of my peers because they couldn't pay him back."
Upon hearing that, Marzia's eyes widened in stress. "What?"
Huffing, Mary replies, "He's out to get me…"
…
The night passed just like any other moon lapse. Shortly after, morning came. The city was busy, people wandered around, kids played and went to school, and cars tread the road. In no time, the stars shone again.
"Where are you going?" A daunting voice echoes in the CEO's office of Dickinson TV corporation. That voice belongs to Sergio Dickins II, one of the wealthiest men in Europe. He's the father of Scott and the owner of this company. Though past the age of retirement, his active lifestyle enables him to have such a fit body and impressive stance that anyone would fear him, even a cold guy like Scott.
"Home," Scott answered in one word. He stood up and turned his back, having enough of Sergio's tyranny. Basically, the old man just called for him to reprimand him about yesterday's shenanigans. Sergio blatantly ridiculed Scott's weakness and expressed how disgusted he was for having a son like him. Now, Sergio claimed that he was having second thoughts about leaving this company to the likes of Scott, a pathetic neophyte who couldn't do shit to save their family's image.
"Take one more step and I'll disown you."
Scott's body paused in command. He already have his hands by the knob, but he dropped it and turned back, sitting on the single couch in front of Sergio's office table.
"I'm not done yet, and here you are, leaving like my words don't matter. Never forget that I own you. Disrespectful prick. You're just like your mother," Sergio heaves and looks away momentarily. Out of respect, Scott didn't answer anymore. He just listened to ten more minutes of this.
In the end, Sergio told him, "If you don't get back Marzia, consider yourself homeless. I want her to be your wife. Her poor image is good press for our family."
Scott pursed his lips. The ultimatum his father has given him is just too unfair. No, it's not like he can't marry Marzia, it's just that he can't marry her now. He's been having affairs left and right that once it gets out, everything will fall apart, resulting into an even more disastrous situation.
"I understand, Father," Scott only said that. Then, he stood up, about to leave when Sergio did the same.
"Hold on. Before that, I have one last thing to say to you." Sergio then slowly walked towards Scott and stood up before him. Surprisingly, they are about the same size, even though the former is 30 or more years older.
"Yes, Father—"
Scott's words were cut off when Sergio's powerful slap met his face. He stumbled back to the couch and held his left cheek, groaning in pain. A slither of blood even drops from his now bruised lips.
Without another word, Sergio went back to his swivel chair and got back to work as if nothing has happened. No apologies, no worries.
On the other hand, Scott didn't even take time to recover and just stumbled out of there. He heaved and used the walls as support for a while, but once he got back to his feet, he just walked normally. Sergio's violence isn't new to him, but every time it happened, it cracked Scott's ticker a little. More than the physical pain is the emotional damage; thus, he has become a broken man with issues far too complex for one to understand.
Scott strides to the parking lot and gets in his car. He looks at the mirror and wipes the blood. The bruise is barely noticeable, but it's there and itching a little. Wanting to numb the pain, he took his cell phone and called a number. The person on the other line quickly answered.
"Hey, man. You're back, right? Do you want to go out for a drink?"