STRINGS OF THE PAST (A Song we will play)

Chapter 23

The Daughter’s Hand

Bruno sat on the side of his bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen for longer than necessary. The name "Tracy Rodriguez" glared back at him, a reminder of the responsibility his father's corporation had placed squarely on his shoulders. He'd already consented to dinner, but courtesy or possibly nerves—required a call to confirm.

With a groan, he tapped the dial.

It rang once. Twice. Then her voice slipped into the line, silky and assured, with a humorous undertone.

“Bruno Sanchez. I was wondering if you'd call or just leave me waiting in a five-star restaurant like a tragic heroine."

He giggled gently to himself: "I'd never do that. I just wanted to confirm the time and place. Seven o'clock, Le Jardin?"

"Mmm, precise. "I like that." Her voice dropped slightly, taunting. "Punctuality is appealing, Bruno. Almost as attractive as courage."

"Yes. Courage to confront a woman like me when you clearly do not want to." She chuckled lightly, a melodious sound that suggested wickedness. "Don't deny it—I can practically hear your sigh through the phone."

Bruno hesitated. Tracy had a knack of quickly stripping back veneers, and her statements, while amusing, contained reality.

"I'm keeping my word," he stated calmly. "That matters to me."

"Oh, I admire that," she said calmly. "A man who keeps his promises. Rare these days. Tell me, Bruno, are you as disciplined with your girlfriend too?"

The casual remark of Catherina caught him off guard. He froze, his smile vanishing. "Yes," he said forcefully, his tone firm. "Always."

There was a moment of stillness. Then a quiet, knowing laugh. "Good. Loyalty suits you. Let's see whether it can handle dinner with me. It is seven o'clock."

The telephone went dead before he could respond.

Bruno laid the phone down, his jaw stiffening. It hadn't been your typical confirmation; it had been a test. And he knew it would be less about great dining and more about arguing with a woman raised in the world of power games.

The nightfall arrived with great accuracy. Bruno wore a fitted black suit similar to the one his father wore to shareholder meetings, which reminded him of the weight of expectations. He drove to Le Jardin, a French restaurant nestled in the heart of the city, its glass façade gleaming like an invitation.

Tracy was already present. She sat near the window, back straight and wine glass in hand. She looked like an heiress, with her scarlet dress clinging to her shape and her dark hair pulled into a bun that revealed pearl earrings that glistened like secrets.

When she saw him, her lips arched into a welcoming, although contrived smile. "You're on time," she commented as he approached. "I was willing to forgive you if you were late. However It makes a man appear dangerous, and that’s hot.”

Bruno took his seat, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Dangerous isn't really my style.”

“Mm. We'll see about that."

They placed an order. The servers moved gently, pouring glasses and arranging food like choreography. Tracy leaned forward as the first round of pleasantries ended, her eyes sharp despite the comfortable smile on her face.

"You know," she said. "I believe in the old school way of marriage."

Bruno glanced up from his plate, cautious. "Old school?"

"Yes." Her tone was deliberate, as if she were reciting a lesson she had learned from childhood. "Marriage should serve the families, not just the couple. The name. The Empire. Love is pleasant, yes, but it is not dependable. Legacy is.”

The words felt like a weight on his chest. He set down his fork gently. "That sounds more like a contract than a marriage."

"Isn't it both?" Tracy responded effortlessly, tilting her head. "My father often believes that love is fleeting, but power is permanent. When two families unite, it is not about romance. It's about survival."

Bruno leaned forward, his voice steady but sharp. "I've got a girlfriend. Her name is Catherina. I am in love with her. I will not pretend otherwise."

Tracy's carefully constructed facade cracked for a brief moment. Her fingers remained steady on the stem of her drink. A flicker of astonishment crossed her face before she chuckled softly, though her eyes reflected the harshness of the moment. "You don't waste time, right? Most men in your position would have avoided it. But you go directly to the truth."

"Because she is my truth," Bruno answered without hesitation.

Tracy observed him, her eyes turning from interest to almost admiration. "You must understand what this means, Bruno. Your company is at a crossroads. My father's investment might preserve it. Yet here you are, choosing to remind me of your feelings for another lady."

He did not flinch. "If rescuing the firm means betraying Catherina, it is not worth it. My father built Digital Studios once. If I have to, I will rebuild it myself. With her at my side."

The words weighed heavily between them. The restaurant was alive with quiet conversation, the clink of crystal, and the murmur of laughter. However, at their table, it was a battlefield.

Tracy finally leaned back, her lips curling with laughter and honesty. "You're either a fool or the bravest man I've met."

"Maybe both," Bruno acknowledged.

Her gaze softened for a moment, and the armor slipped. "Do you know what I envious of you, Bruno? You speak about love as if it were invincible. I've never had the luxury. I was raised to think of love as a weakness. A liability. Something to be trained out of me."

He paused, moved by the vulnerability in her voice. Beneath the measured composure was someone who had been formed, possibly trapped, by her father's expectations.

"You deserve more than to be used as a bargaining chip," he gently stated. "And so do I."

The moment grew longer. Tracy straightened up, as if realizing she had exposed too much, and her mask slipped back into place. She stirred her wine, and a slight grin returned to her lips.

"Very well," she mumbled. "Don't mistake me for weak, Bruno. If I play my father's games, it is because I want to. My name, my position—they are not insignificant. And maybe one day, when your debts mount and your board turns against you, you'll recall this dinner and wonder if love can keep you afloat."

Bruno did not respond right away. His heart was filled with defiance, yet her words bore the sting of possibility.

Still, he concluded at the end, "I'd rather drown in love than suffocate without it."

Her laugh returned, faint but sharp. "Then let's see how long you can hold your breath."

The night ended without fireworks or promises of romance. Bruno took her outside, and they parted politely, almost businesslike. But her last words lingered: "Let's see how long you can hold your breath."

Driving back to the Sanchez estate, Bruno’s chest felt heavier than ever.

The Sanchez home loomed ahead, cold and silent, with no warmth left in its expansive hallways. Bruno parked, shut off the engine, and remained motionless in the dark. His fingers grabbed the steering wheel as if letting go meant accepting Tracy's words— that love was frail, that family names and power were more valuable than hearts.

He said to the night, almost in prayer, "I will not lose her. Not again. "Not for this."

But in the stillness that followed, a deeper question arose like a shadow within him: How will I tell catherina?

Will she notice his loyalty, or just the meal with Tracy? Would she believe his words or question his resolve when the world demanded otherwise?

Bruno felt the weight of two worlds dragging him apart as he stepped into the empty house— the world of legacy and empire his father had left him, and the world of love and music he wished to share with Catherina.

Bruno paused in the study, gazing at the ledgers piled high with debt and desperation. Tracy's marriage-as-empire mentality was diametrically opposed to his father's artistic and ethical values. But what worried him the most was not business. It was Catherina.

How would he deliver the news to her? How would he explain that he sat across from Tracy Rodriguez, listening to her thoughts on marriage while concealing his own love behind clenched fists and obstinate determination?

Will she understand? Or would she consider it a betrayal?

Bruno sat back in his father's chair and stared into the darkness. He was aware that he would have to confront her tomorrow. Tomorrow, he'd have to choose honesty or risk losing her trust forever.