"Right...now that we have that handled you can start explaining your side of the story Mila and please don't even try to convince me to let you go to Singapore because that's simply not going to happen," Vincent said, his voice measured and calm but his expression stern.
"But father, please try to understand," Mila pleaded with a quiver in her voice and meeting his gaze. "This project means everything to me. That's my dream... it's my life, and it's something I wanted to do since I was a little girl. I've already invested so much into this project - my time, my money, and my entire life. Please, Father, I beg you, please understand."
"Mila, I don't care what you have invested," Vincent's voice grew stern and filled with frustration. "I know the real reason why you want to go to Singapore, and that's not going to happen. That's final. Have you forgotten why I trained you and your sister? Why I've sent you both out on all those missions? You and your sister are supposed to take over from me, Mila. Who's going to do that if you go off and dance your way through Singapore? Did I do all of that for nothing?"
With an exasperated sigh, Vincent threw his hands in the air and stood up from behind his desk. He walked over to his cabinet and retrieved an expensive bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a glass with a few ice cubes. Swirling the drink around, he took a long, contemplative sip before setting the glass down and turning back to face Mila.
"Now, for the last time, explain to me what happened between you and Alfonso," Vincent demanded, his tone insistent. He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Mila, determined to extract every detail, "wait..." Vincent hesitated for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. "Something isn't right, Mila," he continued, his voice laced with concern. "Why does he want to kill you? His father was the one pushing for this wedding, so why would he turn against you, now just before the wedding?" Vincent's words hung in the air, the weight of his confusion echoing in the room.
'I really don't know, Father," Mila replied, her voice filled with confusion. "I was just as surprised as you, I received a message from him saying it's over, and that was it. I tried asking him what was going on and why, but he didn't respond to any of my messages."
Vincent listens intently to his daughter's explanation, then he asks the crucial question. "So, Mila, did Alfonso even know about your plan to go to Singapore?"
"No, Father, he didn't know," Mila sighed her gaze drifting downward.
"WHAT!" Vincent exploded, his voice reverberating through the room. So, you mean to tell me that you were going to leave him here? Don't you maybe think he found out, and that's why he's losing his mind like this? What the hell were you thinking, Mila? No... no... I'll tell you what, you were not thinking at all!" Vincent jumped up from behind his desk again, his face red with anger. He stormed over to the whiskey cabinet, pouring himself a double this time, and downed it in one gulp. He stumbles back and collapses onto his chair, his composure crumbling.
"I can't take any more surprises like this. Please tell me there is nothing else I need to know," Vincent pleaded, pounding his fists on his office table. Mila's eyes were wide in surprise, her startled expression mirroring his distress.
"Father, please calm down," Mila pleaded, her voice trembling. "It's not as bad as it sounds. Let me explain, please."
"No!" Vincent bellowed, his anger consuming him. "I don't want to hear another word from you, Mila. Get out of my office before I lose it completely." He paused for a moment, his frustration evident. " As much as I love you and your sister, Mila, I swear.... never mind. Just go...now!" His voice rose again, filled with a mix of disappointment and anger.
Mila left her father's office and made her way down the corridor towards her room, her eyes still filled with tears. As she exited, Susan entered through the other door that connected the office to their bedroom. Seeing her daughter distraught, Susan walked to Vincent's side and sat on his lap, her gaze filled with concern.
"Don't you think you were too hard on her?" she questioned gently. "You know she's entitled to her own life as well."
Vincent looked up into his wife's beautiful eyes and a small, seductive smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You know, she reminds me so much of you," he said, his voice filled with nostalgia. "I can still vividly remember the days when I fought so hard to convince you to settle down here with me."
Susan smiled warmly and placed a tender kiss on Vincent's cheek. "Just think about it this way,' she suggested. "You refused to give up on me and fought until the bitter end to marry me, and you didn't care who was against us, did you forget how many mafia wars almost broke out because of this, you didn't give up Ciccino (Sweetheart). Don't you think she might be doing the same?"
Vincent sighed, his concern evident. "But the problem is he's dead Mi Amore (my love)," he said gravely.
Susan's expression turned to tease as she leaned in closer. " Is he really?" She asked, a playful glint in her eyes. She has more of her father in her than her mother, she knows more than she lets us believe." With a mischievous pinch on Vincent's cheek, she stood up and made her way out of the room.
In her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it, inhaling deeply as she attempted to collect her thoughts. It was in that moment of desperation that she realized she had no other choice left.
Pulling her phone from her pocket, Mila dialed a number, her trembling fingers making it difficult to press the buttons. The person on the other end answered but remained silent. Mila took a deep breath, her voice steadying as she uttered only two words, "It's time," before abruptly ending the call.
Turning her attention to her walk-in closet, Mila retrieved her suitcase. With swift movements, she began packing a few essential clothing items and gathered her toiletries from the bathroom. As she neatly folded each piece of clothing and carefully placed her toiletries in a bag, a mix of determination and uncertainty filled in her heart. She knew that what lay ahead would not be easy, but she had made her decision, and she was ready to face the unknown.
It was almost midnight, and after hours of gazing out the window, Mila finally rose from her bed. With cautious steps, she approached the door. Peeking out, she confirmed that the silence meant everyone was asleep and she could go ahead. Quickly, she turned back and gathered her suitcase and handbag, stealing one last glance at her room. "I'm going to miss this place," she whispered and swiftly turned to open the door. But her escape was halted as she collided with a rock-hard chest.
"And where do you think you're going, Mila?"