"Have you ever considered divorce?" Ivan asked softly, breaking the heavy silence that hung in the room.
Louise hesitated, her eyes flickering with emotion. "I... I don't know," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Sometimes I think about it. But then, I fear what people will say. Divorce isn't easy, and… I feel guilty toward Fred."
"Guilty?" Ivan pressed gently.
Louise's eyes reddened as she struggled to put her feelings into words. "He loved me so much, once. He sacrificed so much for our family. I know he's changed, but… I see him struggling too. If I abandon him now, after everything, wouldn't that make me a terrible person?"
Her voice cracked, and Ivan realized how deeply entrenched her beliefs were. She was a conservative Catholic, someone for whom divorce was not just a legal decision but a moral failure.
Charlie stood nearby, listening quietly to the exchange. His small frame seemed to shrink under the weight of the conversation, though his face betrayed no emotion.
Ivan clenched his fist under the table, then relaxed it again. He exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I'm sorry, Louise, but I can't keep Charlie with me permanently."
Both Louise and Charlie looked at him, startled, though Ivan quickly continued. "But I can send him to a boarding school. A good one, where he'll learn to take care of himself. That way, he'll be safe, and you won't have to worry."
He turned to Charlie. "What do you think?"
Charlie nodded resolutely, his voice steady despite the tension. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll be okay."
Ivan leaned forward slightly, his voice firm but empathetic. "Louise, I understand your guilt, but you need to face reality. When Fred became an addict and started taking from you, your time, your money, your energy; he stopped being the man you married. He stopped being your family. That's not on you."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pen and a scrap of paper. "If you ever need help, you can find me here," he said, beginning to write the address of the Hilty Hotel.
But just as the pen scratched the paper, Ivan froze. His keen ears caught the sound of hurried footsteps outside. Heavy. Uneven. The kind of gait that spoke of frustration, urgency and danger. The sound of a man coming home in a foul mood, likely with money on his mind.
Louise stood up abruptly, her face paling. "Why is he back so early? He usually doesn't come home until night..."
Her panic was palpable, and she turned to Ivan, her voice trembling. "Sir, please, you must leave. If he sees you here, he'll—he'll hit you!"
Ivan's eyes narrowed. "Will he hit you too?"
Louise didn't answer, but her silence spoke volumes. Ivan's stomach tightened.
The iron gate suddenly swung open with a sharp 'clang'. A man stumbled inside, his messy hair plastered to his forehead, his left sleeve hanging loose where his arm used to be. His face was gaunt, and his skin bore the telltale marks of long-term drug use, ringworm spots and a sickly pallor. The sour mix of alcohol and drugs hit Ivan's nose immediately, a foul, nauseating scent.
"Fuckin' unbelievable," the man muttered under his breath, kicking off his shoes angrily. "That bastard won it all today… what the hell!" He stopped mid-step and looked up, his bloodshot eyes landing on Ivan.
His expression darkened instantly, as though someone had lit a fuse in his chest. His face, already hollow, contorted with anger.
"Louise," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Who the hell is this?"
Louise flinched, instinctively stepping back. Her voice trembled as she replied, "This gentleman... he's here to help us. He wants to sponsor Charlie's schooling."
"Help?" Fred sneered, his lips curling into a twisted smile. "Help, huh? Louise, you really expect me to believe that? You're scared out of your wits, and you think I'll buy this bullshit about some random stranger 'helping' us?"
"Fred, please, listen to me!" Louise pleaded, her voice rising in desperation. "He's not what you think. He's here to give Charlie a chance; a real future. Please don't be angry."
But Fred wasn't listening. He stepped closer, his eyes burning with suspicion and malice. "Sure, sure. I 'knew' it. I knew you had someone on the side, you whore." His voice rose to a shout, and his laugh was sharp and bitter. "This is your new lover, isn't it? Another man to crawl to, while you spit on me?"
"No! That's not true!" Louise cried, her voice cracking as she tried to explain. "Fred, you're wrong! I would never—"
"Then why are you panicking, huh?" Fred roared, his voice echoing in the small space. "Why are you trembling like a guilty little bitch? Don't tell me this bastard is here out of kindness. No one's that kind! What'd you do, Louise? How many times have you spread your legs for him?"
"Stop it!" Charlie shouted suddenly, stepping forward. His voice cracked with fear and Fred. "That's not true! Mom didn't do anything!"
Fred turned on his son, his dark eyes narrowing. "You shut your damn mouth, boy. This is between me and your slut of a mother!"
Ivan remained seated, his gaze fixed on Fred, calm but cold. His hands rested on the table, but his muscles were tense, ready to act at a moment's notice. The man in front of him wasn't just a threat to Louise and Charlie, he was a volatile force that could explode at any moment.
"Fred," Ivan said evenly, his voice cutting through the chaos. "You need to calm down."
Fred whipped his head toward Ivan, his expression twisting further. "And who the hell are you to tell me what to do, huh? Some saint? Some savior?" He spat the words, his rage boiling over. "If you think you can just waltz in here and play hero, you've got another thing coming!"
Ivan's eyes didn't waver, his calm demeanor unnerving Fred. "I'm not here to play anything. I'm here to help. But if you want to talk about this the hard way..." Ivan's tone dropped, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "...I'm ready for that too."
The room fell silent for a tense moment, the air crackling with unspoken threats. Fred's drunken bravado faltered slightly under Ivan's unflinching gaze. But Ivan knew this wasn't over. Not yet.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Fred sneered, his voice thick with venom and the sour stench of alcohol. "You all want to dump me, huh? Just because I'm a guy who lost an arm, who spends his days drowning in drugs and gambling?"
His lips curled into a bitter grin, his eyes darting wildly between Louise, Charlie, and Ivan. "You've planned this well, Louise. Found yourself a rich gigolo to swoop in and take Charlie away from me. Hah, look at him, he's a European. Of course, only some backwater bastard would be interested in an old, dried-up hag like you!"
Fred yanked his belt from his trousers, the leather snapping in the air as he moved menacingly toward Louise.
Charlie instinctively stepped forward, his fists clenched, but Ivan placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "Not yet," Ivan said under his breath, his calm tone betraying the storm brewing in his chest.
Fred's voice cracked as he shouted, his words laced with self-pity and rage. "I worked so hard for this family! If it weren't for me, Louise, you would've died in childbirth! And this is how you repay me?"
He raised the belt high, his eyes wild, ready to strike Louise. But before he could swing, Ivan's hand shot out, gripping Fred's wrist with iron strength.
"I think that's enough, Mr. Hank," Ivan said coolly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Fred's head snapped toward him, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you doing? This is my family! It's none of your damn business!" He jerked his arm, trying to break free, but Ivan's grip didn't budge.
"You can insult me all you want," Ivan said evenly, his gaze unwavering. "But you will treat your family with respect. They have done nothing to deserve this."
Fred snarled, yanking his arm again, but Ivan held firm. The man's frustration boiled over, and he lunged forward, but with a single, effortless motion, Ivan pulled him off balance and sent him sprawling to the ground.
The rough concrete scraped Fred's skin as he fell, leaving bloody streaks on his elbow and palm. He groaned, trying to push himself up, but the effects of the drugs and alcohol made him sluggish. He collapsed back onto the ground, panting heavily.
Ivan stepped back, positioning himself protectively in front of Louise and Charlie. Fred glared up at him, anger smoldering in his eyes. But then something shifted. The rage faded, replaced by something rawer, pain, sorrow, and regret.
His voice cracked as he looked past Ivan to his family. "I didn't do anything wrong… why…?" He curled up on the ground, his words dissolving into a pitiful sob. "It's all your fault," he muttered, his voice rising with every accusation. "It's all your fucking fault! Fuck this country! Fuck that goddamn doctor! Fuck you, Louise! Fuck you for saving me! Why didn't you let me die?!"
Louise's hands trembled as tears rolled down her cheeks. She took a hesitant step forward, but Fred's sudden movement stopped her. He pushed her away with a weak shove, his body shaking with anger and despair.
Ivan caught her, gently pulling her back. He shook his head, his expression firm but understanding. "Let him be," he said quietly. "He needs time."
---
The ride back to the city was silent. The rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels offered no solace. Ivan's mind churned, replaying Fred's outburst, Louise's tears, and the helplessness etched on Charlie's face.
Once they reached the city, Ivan turned to Charlie and handed him three pesos. "Take your mother somewhere," he said, his tone soft but final. "Get her out of the house for a bit. Both of you need a break."
Charlie hesitated, looking up at Ivan with uncertain eyes. "But, sir—"
"No arguments," Ivan interrupted gently. "Go. She needs you."
Charlie nodded, his grip tightening around the money. He took Louise's hand and led her away, leaving Ivan standing alone in the busy street.
---
Ivan wandered aimlessly, his thoughts heavy and disjointed. The streets blurred together as his feet carried him forward. Eventually, he found himself on 'Lombard Street', a familiar place that seemed to pull him in with its haunting familiarity.
The street band from the other day was still there, playing their lively tunes. But something had changed. Behind them hung a large white banner with bold black letters that read: '"Rebel World."'
Ivan's lips twitched into a faint smile, though his heart felt far from light. He fished a few pesos from his pocket and tossed them into the band's collection box. The musicians nodded their thanks and shifted into a new tune, their instruments weaving a melody that felt both defiant and melancholic.
Ivan sank onto a nearby flower bed, his elbows resting on his knees. The music filled the air, drowning out the city's noise and giving him a moment of stillness.
He stared at the ground, lost in thought. The events of the day lingered in his mind like a heavy fog. Fred's pain, though self-inflicted, was undeniable. Louise's guilt, Charlie's quiet strength, it all weighed on him. And yet, beneath the surface, a part of him whispered that the climax of this story was still ahead.