Vengeance Unbound

Chapter 13: SESSIONS

Vinco's POV

“Sir, we've done a thorough search of the building. We also searched her things, but there's still no sign of the drive,” Drew said.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked as I sat in my office chair.

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. I'll see what I can do about that. But still, don't let your guard down, especially around Fernando,” I said.

“Yes, Mr. Antonov.”

He paused.

“And also, I put a tracking device on her as you instructed. It seems she headed back to her place.”

“Oh, really?”

I leaned back slightly.

“A feisty one, isn't she? She'll definitely be back.”

“That'll be all for now. You can leave.”

Drew nodded and walked out.

Immediately, my phone rang.

It was my dad.

I looked at the screen and sighed.

“What does Alberto want this time?”

I picked up the phone.

“Papá, estoy ocupado. Llama a tus otros hijos.”

(Dad, I'm busy. Call your other kids.)

*Head to the casino now. It's urgent,* he said over the phone.

“Si no es nada grave, te lo juro por Dios… bueno, dame diez.”

(If it's nothing serious, I swear to God… alright, give me ten.)

I hung up.

“Drew! Drew!”

He immediately returned.

“Yes, sir?”

“Get the car ready. I'm heading to the casino.”

“Yours or Mr. Alberto's?” he asked.

“Mr. Alberto's. My dad's,” I replied, gathering my things.

“Alright, sir.”

He walked out.

**********

We got to the casino and walked inside.

There was nothing but chaos.

People were placing bets, arguing over their losses, shouting at each other, and moving around everywhere.

I made my way to my dad's section and saw him.

He had his famous grey feather coat on, along with a long black jalamia robe. His usual pipe was in one hand while the other held the staff he used to assist him when walking.

He stood beside the glass window, leaning against the wall.

His bodyguards and men were all around him as usual.

Then I noticed an elderly man kneeling on the ground, injured and desperately begging for his life.

“Papá, ¿qué está pasando?”

(Dad, what's going on?)

I walked toward him.

“Ay, ahí está mi hijo favorito.”

(Oh, there's my favorite son.)

He held my shoulder and tapped me lightly on the cheek.

“Dijiste que me necesitabas, ¿para qué?”

(You said you needed me. What for?)

I took a step back, keeping one hand in my pocket.

“Él, eh… perdió una apuesta y puso una de sus propiedades inmobiliarias como garantía, pero al parecer no es dueño de ninguna. Ni una sola está a su nombre.”

(He, uh… lost a bet and used one of his land properties as collateral, but apparently he doesn't own any. Not a single one is in his name.)

“What?”

I laughed.

“¿Quieres decir que te estafaron? Ni te imaginas lo graciosa que es esta mierda.”

(You mean you got scammed? You don't know how funny this s**t is.)

I laughed again.

“¿Me culparías? Soy viejo.”

(Would you blame me? I'm old.)

He puffed smoke from his pipe.

“Dad, you're not just old. You're a titled man in his late fifties who owns thousands of properties across the globe, yet you can't handle this?”

I shook my head.

“Funny.”

“Well, be glad I'm not a god. Everyone would be in Hades by now, stressing out an old man. Ain't nobody getting peace of mind.”

He walked toward the man and kicked him, sending him down onto the floor.

“Entonces, ¿qué haces con él?”

(So what do you do with him?)

“You see, that's where the problem is. I don't know.”

He looked down at the man.

“Should I kill him or feed him to my dogs?”

“Dad, come on. Don't tell me that's the reason you called me here.”

I placed my hand on my forehead and rubbed it in annoyance.

“I have grandkids now. I'm trying to be a better person. And I also wanted to see you.”

He paused.

“When was the last time you spoke with your sis, anyway?”

“Look, I don't know.”

I glanced at the man on the floor.

“And about him, just use him as one of your slaves until he gets the money to pay you. I don't have time for this.”

I turned around to leave.

“Hold on.”

I stopped.

“Heard you and your brother aren't having it.”

He looked at me.

“You both better sort your s**t out. Don't keep dragging it. You'll need him.”

I sighed.

“Alright. Whatever.”

I walked out.

From there, I went to check on things on my own side.

I fixed whatever needed to be fixed, handled whatever needed handling, then drove back home.

When I got in front of the door, I noticed it was open.

*Who left this like this?*

I pushed the door open and walked inside.

Then I saw her.

Chioma.

“She’s back,” I said to myself.

She stood in front of the family portrait, staring at it as though it belonged to her.

I stopped.

She looked good in the dress she wore.

Apparently, it was the one I'd gotten for her awhile back.

I stood there for a moment, admiring her from behind.

I don't know what came over me.

Maybe I was still drunk from the previous night.

Maybe I just wasn't thinking.

I walked slowly toward her.

I reached for her, intending to pull her into a back hug, but she suddenly spun around and slapped me.

Hard.

I froze.

No one had ever raised their hand against me.

Not even my dad.

But she did.

A tiny ringing sound immediately filled my ear, like a damaged microphone.

She started yelling.

I could see her mouth moving, but I couldn't make out most of what she was saying.

The ringing in my ear drowned everything else out.

The only word I managed to catch was:

“Pregnant.”

I wasn't fazed.

I didn't even move.

I just stood there, waiting for my hearing to return.

Roberta suddenly came in, probably because of the noise.

Then both of them started yelling.

I couldn't tell who was yelling at whom.

They eventually walked away, still arguing.

I, on the other hand, went to my room.

I lay down and took deep breaths.

After a while, I got up and went to the bathroom.

I washed my face.

Slowly, my hearing began to return.

The ringing faded until everything sounded clear again.

I walked out of the bathroom and was about to lie down when a heavy knock slammed against my door.

*Who could it be?*

I opened the door, already annoyed.

It was Roberta.

“Sir, she's locked herself in, and the door won't open.”

“Then leave her alone. She's probably exhausted,” I said.

“Sir, you don't understand.”

Roberta looked anxious.

“She was screaming really loudly, like she was hurt or something, and she's not answering.”

“What do you mean screaming? For what?”

I immediately walked toward her room.

I tried opening the door.

It wouldn't budge.

“Chioma!”

No answer.

I called her name again.

Still nothing.

I had no choice but to send for some of my bodyguards to break the door open.

After several heavy hits, the door finally gave way.

I rushed inside.

Chioma was on the floor, unconscious and in serious distress.

My eyes widened.

For a moment, I couldn't understand what I was looking at.

There were signs that something terrible had happened, and the coat hanger she'd used earlier was nearby.

But I couldn't make sense of it.

I was in complete shock.

Not just because of what I saw.

It had been almost five years since I'd seen a woman in that condition.

It reminded me of my mom.

I ran toward Chioma and lifted her from the floor.

“What the hell did you do to yourself?”

I was genuinely bothered.

For some reason, I felt this strange sense of care toward her.

I just wanted her to open her eyes.

“Sir, should I call an ambulance?” Roberta asked.

“No.”

I looked at her.

“No one's calling an ambulance or going to a hospital either. Call Florence instead. He and his crew will handle her.”

I looked back at Chioma.

“Go clean that mess up. Make sure no bloodstain is seen. Not even a drop.”

I carried her out.

Florence arrived in a black van with his men.

They carefully placed Chioma in the back of the vehicle before driving off.

I stood there watching the van disappear.

“Hope she's okay,” I sighed.

I turned around to head back inside when a familiar female voice called from afar.

“Hola, papii… it's about time.”

I stopped.

Then I turned around.

It was Sybil.