"Love?!" I snap my eyes at Damian's voice and from the look of things, he ought to have howled my name more than once. I didn't know I was just staring at him like a bewildered zombie. Last I checked, I just dropped nanny Malia's call.Papa!Papa!That's the only thing lingering in my head right now. My father is sick - seriously sick! Nanny Malia would not have called if his condition wasn't critical. She said it clearly that she decided to call because papa's condition is not good. What is his diagnosis? How long has he not been feeling well? What condition is he in? Is it severe, or just mild? What..."Baby!?""I need to pack. I need to get ready. I need to head back home. I need..." "Love, hey!" "I need to see my father, Damian. I need to see for myself if he is okay or not. I need to be with him, Damian."I quit ranting abruptly and do the first thing that strikes my mind. I start upstairs, sprinting through the blurry stairs due to the tears streaming from my eyes as fast as

Clutching onto my satchel and purse at the airport, I don't fritter any second exploring the airport or savoring the fresh tranquil aura. I instead scan for my chauffeur, Mike, and my eye hunt for him doesn't take much of my time. I spot him without much of a hustle, and stroll to him in a haste, the ailment of my father being the only beat echoing in my mind. "Hi, Mike!" I greet him, and he turns to me."Hi, ma'am. Welcome back." A broad smile is portrayed on his lips as he extends the pleasantries."Thank you, Mike." I respond as he opens the door for me and wanders off to settle my satchel in the boot.Ooh, I missed my baby Lamborghini. Life at home, huh? I hope everything welcomes me with a luminous expression."To your house, ma'am?" Mike implores as he ignites the engine."No. To my father's. And please hurry!" I respond.As we hit the road towards home with Christopher Martins'Let her go jazz playing in the stereo, the anticipation of the condition I will find my father in and

It's almost night when I wake up to the voices of the doctors in my father's room. I am still swaddled in my his arms, and he is still closing his eyes to the pain while the doctors are readying the meds. I strive as much as possible to slip out of his grip without alarming him, but I flunk eventually. He peels his weak eyes, and I clench his hand as he tries to catch a hold of me.Leaving him must have impacted him so much, and with a dreadful feeling of fear. I blame myself. I haven't stopped fathoming over how different things would be right now if only I didn't do what I did, and neither have I ceased reprimanding myself for all that is ensuing. Choices, they say, have consequences, and I am having a bitter sense of what precisely that means. How I wish I could get a chance to change a thing, but woe unto me, this is irreversible. I'll have to nurse these wounds I myself inflicted on myself and try to learn that running away from anything isn't ever a solution, and I am learning t

"He seems so calm." I remark on my father who is peacefully asleep. After the talk we had about my marriage and agreeing, he made a call to Mr Riccaforte and they spoke. I never expected them y have a peaceful talk about this matter, but I guess my father was right after all. It's the daughter of the great Richard Riccaford that they playing on. I bet they are willing to swallow anything just fir me. After that, he fell asleep and it's been almost three hours. It's about t clock ten at midnight and he isn't showing any sign of waking up."He sure does. That seems to have been a huge load on his shoulder that he really needed to get off." Doctor Lemuel responds."I didn't know how heavy that issue was. I wish I did. We could have avoided a lot." I assert with honesty."The most important thing is that you handled it well. He seems so peaceful. Let's see how he was up tomorrow." "Okay. Can you watch over him for a while? I need to go downstairs for a bit." I ask."It's alright. Take a

Hell is crumbling down on me. My head is spinning a thousand degrees per second as I spring to my feet again albeit with so shaky limbs. I have to clench to my seat for aid as I strut behind it struggling to ponder on any connotation of this hell of a farce as Damian's demeaning frame racks tall before me. Damian - Almenda - Riccaforte? He is that ghost? That... How come? Why the fuck didn't I know? What's this? A fucking hoax? I am peering deep into his familiar bottomless orbs, exploring for answers or any inkling that denote that this is a prank, but the ice in them doesn't give any hint of this being a hoax. Their dark alluring glow is still so strong as always, but today, right this minute, my eyes have assumed a certain dominant power that abates his dominant ones for the first time since I knew him. His stern gaze is everywhere on my face but my eyes. He doesn't bow down, and of course, and that is anticipated from an intrepid duke of his charisma, but I still can sense the