24: Emilia

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-Vincent-

Our eyes stayed heavily on each other's for a while before he dug inside of the pocket to his jacket, pulling out a birthday card as he handed it over towards me. I looked down at the card resting inside of his hands before taking it in mine.

"Happy birthday." He said, his voice ridden of any emotion as he stared at me blandly and I opened the card, a scoff escaping past my lips as I looked back up at him. I ripped it in half and threw it over the railing of the lounge as I clenched my jaw.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, my words coming out in the form of a growl.

"I came to see my boy on his birthday." He told me and I felt my eye twitch at his words. Twenty-seven years of my life and he still can't even build up the courage to call me his son.

"Originally, I stopped by the mansion a few days ago to check up on how things were going but I seen that you were not home." He said, picking up his glass that was next to him as he took a sip of his drink.

"I was busy." I grit.

"Doing what? Searching for the man that killed your mother? I figured you would have found him and killed him by now but I see that you're still as negligent as you always were." He scoffed at me.

"At least I'm actually putting in the effort of trying to look for him-"

"I've been looking for him too." He growled and I let out a humorless laugh.

"Where have you been looking Bruno? Cause I can tell you right now that you sure as hell aren't going to find him at the bottom of your tequila glass." I said and he clenched his jaw, setting his cup down on the table in between us that separated our chairs.

"Eighteen years ago, I lost my mother and my aunt on this exact day. Not a single day has gone by where I haven't stopped looking for Orlando, but what about you papa? What the fuck have you been doing these past eighteen years?" I growled out at him as I clenched my fist tightly.

"That's right, how could I forget. You've just been sitting around on your fucking ass while I've been over here, doing your fucking job!" I yelled at him and he stood up from his chair abruptly. I stood up alongside him as my chest started to rise and fall quickly.

"Do not raise your voice at me, I am your father. Show some fucking respect you ungrateful little shit!" He yelled at me, the dark and raspiness of his voice that used to send me cowering in fear as a child, echoing throughout my ear canals.

"Respect? You want me to respect you after everything you did to me as a child?! You abused me, left me nearly on the brink of death most of the time and you ask for respect? I have no respect for a disappointment of a father like you Bruno." My words dripped of anger and toxicity. He raised his hand and directed it towards my face.

My hand shot out and gripped his wrist tightly as my eyes burned with fury in the form of a glare. He seemed taken aback by my actions as he looked at our connected hands and a dark chuckle escaped my mouth as I pulled him closer.

"What were you going to do? Hit me?" I mocked.

"Let me make this clear papa," I grinned wickedly as I let my words linger in the air for a second. "You may be blood but I can assure you that you are no father of mine. Omar was a better father than you could have ever been." I seethed angrily and released his wrist from my hand, shoving it away from me.

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