BACK WITH THE BILLIONAIRE’S ONLY SON

CHAPTER TWO: DANTE’S PAIN

Dante’s POV

The sting on my cheek was still fresh, and anger coursed through me as I touched the spot where Eva had just slapped me. "How dare you, Eva?" I asked, anger coursing through me.

I watched Eva and her son walk farther away from me. She suddenly shouted, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. "I dare to, and I'll do it a thousand more times if you don't leave me and my son alone!" Her words rang in my ears.

What gave her the impression that I was even interested in her or her bastard son? A son I’m sure didn’t even know his father.

Truth be told, I had never expected to encounter her like this, in the middle of a luxury mall, in the heart of Bologna. It was as if fate had a cruel sense of humor.

Eva went on to do the unimaginable. I hadn’t even gained the right words to respond to the slap when she suddenly started pointing accusing fingers at me. “He’s the one who took my son,” she said at the top of her voice, causing shoppers and mall workers to turn their curious eyes to us. I was taken aback but didn’t want to make the scene worse, so I kept quiet and decided that I wouldn’t be exchanging words with a madwoman.

Soon the mall manager rushed over, attempting to mediate the situation. "What's going on here?" he asked, his gaze shifting between Eva and me.

I felt embarrassed. I wanted to explain, to make it clear that she was lying, but I knew how that game would end. She was a woman, and right now she had won over me. I hated it, but I would accept this failure and come back to ensure she paid for embarrassing me like that.

As Eva continued to accuse me and point fingers, the manager's expression turned from curiosity to disgust. "I just want to leave," she told him, her tone dripping with disdain. "I don't feel safe with the likes of people like him around."

Subconsciously, I opened my mouth to speak, to clarify, but Eva didn't waste any time. She turned and walked away, her driver promptly opening the back seat door for her, and she left with her son, Lorenzo.

I remained standing there, my face still tingling from her slap, a storm of emotions swirling inside me. I was furious at Eva for such public humiliation. My boiling anger was probably palpable at this point as my eyes turned redder, and my fists clenched. I hated the fact that she could still afford to come to a mall as expensive as this one. I’d worked very hard to ensure that she was penniless, so what was she doing back in the city, and how was she roaming around with a luxurious car?

Flashback

“Dante,” I remember my aunt calling me from where I was. I was only eight years old and was celebrating my birthday. Immediately, she called, I ran to meet her excited that she was calling me to either give me a present or do a video call with my parents.

“Yes, big auntie,” I ran to her with my teeth out as I smiled. But immediately I got to my aunt's side, there was no gift. All she had to offer me was a very sullen face, and at my tender age, I had no idea what could be going wrong.

“What is it, auntie?” I asked, as I knew my aunt was usually not quiet. I stood close to her and shook her thighs to get her attention, but instead of her talking, she grabbed me into a tight hug and started crying profusely. I felt the wetness of her tears run down my favorite shirt, and her body shook against mine vigorously. As a little child who dearly loved his aunt, I started to cry without even knowing the reason for her tears. It was only when she noticed I was crying that she stopped crying and refrained from the hug.

“Come here,” she said, tapping on the brown leather sofa.

I instantly obeyed and sat beside her, wondering what she wanted to tell me.

“Stop crying; it’s your birthday,” she said, and her thumb wiped tears off my face.

“I know today is your birthday, but I need you to hear these words so that when you grow up you can remember who did such things to your family.”

What was she saying? What did she mean? My attention increased.

“You won’t be seeing your sister and parents again, Dante.”

I smiled a little, “I know, they said they aren’t coming to spend my birthday with me.”

“No, I mean,” she paused to wipe her tears again, “that you can’t ever see them again. Dante, your mom, dad, and sister are all dead.”

Dead. The word death was something I didn’t totally understand at that time, but I instantly remembered my friends at school who had no father and mother, and I started to cry. I wailed, and my aunt held me, and we both cried together. Nothing is worse than a child losing their parents at such a tender age.

I remember that day as the worst day of my life, and as I grew up, my aunt made it a clear mission to let me know who was responsible for their deaths. Day and night, as often as she remembered, she would take out the picture of the Armani family and show me that it was them who did those evil things to my family. I grew up hating them, and I made it my dying mission to ensure that I get my revenge on them. Ever since then, I’d studied and researched everything possible about the Armani family. I graduated from college and got employed in their company, and I worked my way up the ladder. Soon I got access to their precious daughter, Eva, and I took the opportunity to get back every penny they stole from my family. At first, I had felt a pang of pity for Eva. She was innocent, after all, she was not responsible for her parents' actions. But she was still part of that family, the family that had shattered my life.

My father and Eva's father had been the closest of friends and business partners. They had built a thriving company together, but Mr. Armani’s greed had torn it all apart. He had wanted the entire business for himself, and he killed everyone who stood in his way. I’m only alive today because he never knew about my existence since I was living with my aunt in another city.

Six years ago, I had succeeded in regaining control of the company, watching with intense satisfaction and happiness as my enemies were brought to their knees. They begged, they cried, but I wasn’t one to forgive easily. It wasn’t how I was brought up. I’m ruthless, unforgiving, obsessive, and full of malice. I made sure to get my revenge down to the last penny.

I thought I was okay and totally happy since they had lost everything they ever owned. But now, seeing Eva again in Bologna, those old feelings of hatred and resentment resurfaced in greater folds. She looked so unaffected, so untouched by the suffering I had suffered to bring her way, and it angered me. It angered me to see her looking so good while I had endured years of hardship. It made me question if I didn’t do a good job.

“Sir, sir” I heard the manager's voice calling me, snapping me back to the present.

“Yes,” I answered him, my irritation still simmering beneath the surface.

“Sir, I’d like to see you in my office.”

“For what?” I asked, frustrated. “I have an appointment to catch in the next 15 minutes.”

“It won’t take time, sir, but I’m afraid I can’t let you go without checking if the woman’s accusations were true or not.”

I rolled my eyes. Here we go again, a woman says something without any proof and everyone, every single person suddenly believes her.

“She was lying, the boy came to me himself.”

“Im sorry, Mr…” the manager paused, trying to get my name.

“Mr. Dante.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, Mr. Dante, but I hope you understand. We aren’t accusing you of anything; we just need to confirm with our footage. If all is okay, then you can go.”

I scoffed. Such audacity he had to speak to me like that. Did he even know who I was?

“Please, sir,” he said when I remained silent.

“Where’s the office?” I asked, not wanting to cause more embarrassment for myself as more people had started to look in our direction.

“This way,” he directed, and I followed behind him silently.

We entered, and he started to play the footage. I felt a knot of relief when the display on the screen showed the boy approaching me and me asking him where his parents were. But as I kept watching the boy up close on the screen, I couldn't help but notice something oddly familiar about him. It was as though he looked like me, and my heart skipped a beat. I leaned closer to the screen to check, but after a second look, I easily dismissed it as a coincidence. There were several people who looked alike for no reason.

“I’m so sorry Mr Dante.” The manager, realizing his mistake, apologized to me and I told him it was okay, though my pride was still wounded.

On a good day, none of this would’ve happened. It was me who chose today to go out without my bodyguard because I wanted some sort of freedom, but now I regretted it. All of that embarrassment and disgrace wouldn't have happened if my bodyguard was with me. I sighed and entered my car as the driver opened it for me. Watching the streets of Bologna through the window, I hoped silently within me that I’d never have to cross paths with Eva again.