The Don's Lost Love

Rosa's POV The fluorescent lights in the diner flickered overhead, buzzing like mosquitoes on a hot summer night. It was well past midnight, and the place was dead quiet, except for the low hum of the kitchen fryer and the occasional clink of a spoon against a coffee cup. The few remaining customers were regulars—old men with faces as tired and worn as this diner, muttering about politics and the good old days. They barely looked at me, just grumbled when I poured them refills or dropped a plate of lukewarm fries in front of them. It was as if I were part of the furniture, blending into the peeling linoleum and cracked vinyl seats. I told myself I was lucky to have this job, even if the tips were spare and the hours brutal. Anything was better than being home. My pocket buzzed, and I knew without looking who it was. My fingers tightened around the damp rag in my hand as I pulled out my phone. Alejandro. My father. I let it ring a few times, my thumb hovering over the “decline” button. But I knew better. He would just keep calling until I answered, until he had what he wanted. With a sigh, I pressed the answer button and held the phone to my ear. “Rosa,” he slurred, his voice thick with booze. “Where the hell are you?” “Working, Papa. It’s late. I’m still at the diner,” I said quietly, glancing around, hoping no one could hear. I didn’t need Larry or the customers hearing my business. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?” he sneered. I could picture him, spread out in his chair at home, a bottle in one hand, that angry look in his eyes. “Working your little job, making your little dollars. Acting like you’re some damn saint.” “I’m just… I’m just trying to get by,” I murmured, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Papa, it’s late. What do you want?” There was a pause, and I could hear him breathing, heavy and uneven. Then, he laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that cut through me like a knife. “Money, Rosa. What else would I want? You think I’m calling to ask how you’re doing? To tell you how proud I am?” I bit down hard on my lip, tasting blood. He was right. That kind of call had never come from him, and it never would. “I don’t have much, Papa. Just enough to get by. I gave you what I could last week.” “Well, it’s not enough.” His voice turned hard, mean. “You think life is cheap? Well, think again. I got debts to pay, people who are waiting, understand? Or are you too stupid to understand that?” I swallowed, my throat burning. “I’ll get what I can, okay? Just… give me a little time.” “Oh, you’ll get it for me. You’ll do whatever it takes,” he sneered. “You owe me that much.” I took a shaky breath, pressing my fingers to my temple. “I don’t owe you anything, Papa.” “Don’t you dare get all high and mighty on me, girl. Or else... you know what I'm capable of, Rosa.” I closed my eyes, willing myself to stay calm. “I’ll give you what I can once I get paid tomorrow.” “Good,” he said, his tone cold and commanding. “Don’t forget. Or you’ll regret it.” The line went dead. I put my phone down on the counter, my hands shaking. I looked around, catching Larry’s eye through the kitchen window. He was watching me, a frown pulling at his weathered face, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He had seen enough of my late-night calls to know the score. I forced myself to keep working, picking up a tray of dirty dishes and heading into the kitchen, ignoring the exhaustion that weighed on me like a stone. The clock hit one-thirty, and the last of the regulars shuffled out, leaving a crumpled dollar bill on the table as a tip. I pocketed it with a sigh. Every little bit counted, even if it wasn’t nearly enough. Larry leaned against the kitchen door as I shrugged on my coat, his face set in a deep frown. “You gonna be okay, kid?” I forced a smile, but it felt tight and hollow. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Larry. See you tomorrow.” “Take care of yourself, Rosa,” he said, his voice soft, almost fatherly. It was strange, the way he looked out for me, like he saw right through the walls I tried to keep up. I nodded and headed out, the cold night air biting into my skin. The walk home was dark and quiet, the streetlights casting long, eerie shadows. Our apartment was in a rundown part of town, the kind of place where people kept to themselves and looked the other way when things got ugly. I climbed the stairs, each step creaking under my weight, and unlocked the door as quietly as I could. But the moment I stepped inside, I could hear my father. His voice was loud, echoing through the small apartment. I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart racing as I heard his words echoing down the hall. “Yeah, yeah, you just wait. Made a deal, didn’t I? Big man, they call him the king of the underworld. Ain’t nobody gonna push me around no more.” A cold chill spread through me as my stomach twisted. I had heard him rant before, drunk and angry, but this was different. There was something darker, something terrifying in his voice. “King of the underworld,” he muttered, laughing to himself. “They don’t know who they’re messing with. I got power now. I got… connections.” I took a step back, leaning against the wall, my mind racing. A deal? The king of the underworld? Really? I wanted to march down and confront him, to demand answers. But fear held me rooted to the spot, my legs trembling, my hands sweaty. Then, as if sensing my presence, his voice rose, loud and mocking. “You think I’m a fool, Rosa? You think I don’t know you’re listening?” I gasped, feeling my stomach drop as his footsteps pounded down the hallway. I backed up, stumbling over my own feet, desperate to escape, but he was already there. “Papa, I didn’t mean…” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. He sneered, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile. “You think you can spy on me?” I shook my head, my heart hammering in my chest. “I just… I just got home. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t even hear anything.” “Liar!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty apartment. He took a step towards me, and I shrank back, pressing myself against the wall. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than me, thinking you can control me.” “I’m not trying to control you, Papa. I swear,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “But I just… I want to understand. What are you talking about? What deal?” His eyes glinted with a twisted, feverish light. “So you heard me, didn't you? Well, I made a deal with power, real power. No more scraping by, no more begging. We’re going to be untouchable, Rosa.” I swallowed, fear clawing at me. “What do you mean? Who… who did you make a deal with?” He leaned in close, his breath hot and sour on my face. “Someone you wouldn’t understand. Someone who’s going to change everything.” I felt a shiver run down my spine. He was serious. Whatever he had done, whoever he had made this so-called deal with, it was real to him. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was going to change everything—for both of us. As he laughed, low and meancing, a single thought filled my mind. I had to get out. Before whatever he had done caught up with us.