His Villain

54

Four years later...

His steely grey eyes held an unusual softness, contrasting with his typically intense glares. He watched with unwavering attention as the small creature, with its obsidian eyes, moved about on the meticulously cleaned marbled floor. His legs were spread wide apart, as he leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knees, capturing every detail of the task the little human had been attempting for the past five minutes.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips whenever the young one would shake his head in frustration, his chubby face adorned with a frown and pout, as the blocks failed to align in a row. The child's tiny hands could only grasp two blocks at a time, making it challenging to complete the task within his self-imposed time limit.

Seated on the opposite couch, an elderly lady observed every movement of the young man before her. Her scrutinizing gaze never left this enigmatic figure, a member of this mysterious family. His features mirrored those of the little creature on the floor, his eyes a blend of his own and most of the young lady who had occupied this estate for the past eight months.

There's a saying that when you're happy and content, time flies by in the blink of an eye, but when you're in agony, even a single day can feel like an eternity.

Countless countries had been traced, all in pursuit of one person: Celia Ferrari. Governments and criminal organizations from different continents were after her. Rumors filled the air, questioning...

Could she have orchestrated that massive, catastrophic explosion on her own? Surely, the government must be involved as well.

Did she even exist?

Is she alive or dead?

Even the intelligence agencies were unable to carry out their work effectively. The government must have aided her in maintaining her anonymity.

These years had been a torment for everyone in his vicinity, including he, himself. He had become almost mute, letting his hard, piercing glares do the talking. His methods of torture upon his captives grew increasingly brutal and villainous. His security was impenetrable, and his network expanded across the European and Asian unions. His aura grew more intimidating and dangerous.

As the days passed, his desire to capture the culprit intensified, akin to an addiction, and an unyielding desire to behold her perpetually and inflict upon her an unrelenting sense of remorse for her every action. He envisioned clasping her tightly against the wall by her throat, administering emotional retribution mirroring the anguish she had inflicted.

And finally, after all these years, he was impressed by his people's ability to locate her before the government. She had found a haven for herself along the longest coastline in Europe-Santorini.

It was six in the evening when he landed in Greece. The cool, refreshing air of the coastline greeted him. Greece had not been the place she had been residing all this while. In the past three and half years, she had changed her location seven times.

Three of those times had involved playing a game of hide and seek, with a new member joining each round.

Betrayal, deceit, longing and agony were the only emotions he felt as he stepped into the two-story house. His hard, sharp gaze met the timid, shiny obsidian eyes. His heart skipped a beat, and a heaviness settled in his throat. His hands clenched into fists, and his legs felt as heavy as mountains glued to the ground.

The questions from the woman who opened the door went unnoticed by him, lost in his thoughts, as the little human behind the table curiously peered at him. The child's inquisitive voice reached his sharp ears, pulling him out of his contemplation. "Nona, who's this guest?"

Venezio blinked twice but remained silent, still struggling to comprehend that the papers and photographs of the child were not manipulated or altered in any way. The little bundle in Celia's arms at the beach had not been a delusion, neither in reality nor in his vision. The copy of the DNA test and birth certificate presented to him earlier had not been erroneous or falsified to deceive him. It was the harsh yet tender reality his men had apprised him of after these long, torturous years.

Venezio stood there, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. The revelation that Celia, the woman he had once shared a tender and Competitiveness connection with, was the mother of his child had shaken him to his core. The weight of betrayal hung heavy in the air, mingling with the desire for vengeance.

But as he stared into the innocent eyes of his son, Inizio, a flicker of doubt crept into his heart. Could he truly bring himself to inflict pain upon the woman who had given him this precious gift? Could he subject her to the same torment that he had endured all these years?Could his affection for can shield her from his fury?

The image of Celia cradling their child on the beach flashed through his mind. The memory of that fleeting moment when their worlds had briefly intertwined resurfaced, tugging at the fragments of his shattered heart. A surge of tenderness and protectiveness welled up within him, conflicting with his thirst for retribution.

Venezio's hand clenched into a tight fist, his knuckles turning white with the strain. He struggled to reconcile his desire for justice with the undeniable bond he felt towards his child and the woman who had brought him into existence. The lines between right and wrong blurred, intertwining in a tangled web of emotions.

He knew that the path of revenge would be treacherous, leading him down a dark and twisted road. But could he abandon his pursuit, knowing that Celia had kept their son hidden from him all this time? The thought gnawed at his soul, fueling the fire of his determination.

Inizio looked up at Venezio, his innocent eyes searching for answers. The weight of responsibility settled upon Venezio's shoulders, the burden of a father torn between love and vengeance. He knew that his decisions would shape his son's future, for better or for worse.

"Where is Celia?" he asked in a composed tone, concealing his fury and the chaotic thoughts racing through his mind. He morphed his features from an intimidating and solid demeanor to that of a friendly, composed man. His eyes shifted back to the old lady.

"Who are you, Mister?" the woman asked once again, trying not to compare the features of the two males, until Celia herself confirmed their connection. However, it was impossible for her not to steal glances at the tall man before shifting her gaze back to the young toddler.

"Who is the child's father?" the old woman inquired.

"Does it really matter when I'm alive?" Celia's response was curt, her tone revealing her indifference toward the question of the father's identity.

"Celia, don't you think you should inform the father?" The woman's voice maintained its gentleness and concern.

"I'm a divorcée," Celia replied hastily, her eyes welling up with tears as she struggled to comprehend the miracle cradled in her arms. However, the old woman mistook her somber state for a different reason and offered reassurance.

"It's okay. You're still young, be strong, provide him with a good family, and leave the past behind."

Celia simply nodded in response.

If only it were that easy to accomplish.

The words hung in the air, a revelation that shattered the tranquil atmosphere in the room. Venezio, the enigmatic man before them, finally broke his silence and unveiled his true identity. "I'm Inizio's father," he stated with a calmness that belied the storm brewing within him. He refused to let anyone label his own flesh and blood as an illegitimate heir, a child born out of mere desire and temptation.

The entire reality had to remain between him and his villain.