TRAPPED BY LOVE

Episode 4

“Okay ma'am,” I answered, nodding in affirmation as I sat. I tried to find out what was really going on.

Mr. Smith seemed to wear a sober reflection on what I observed in the last forty seconds. He looked at me with so much compassion in his eyes that I began to get uncomfortable.

My foster mother dropped the bombshell,“Mr. Smith here, is your father.”

A sudden wave of shock engulfed me. I opened my mouth to speak, but it was as though something prevented my words from coming out.

I looked at the man sitting across the room, in a tan suit and black brogue shoes, then I shifted my gaze to myself. How's that even possible?

As if reading my thoughts, he spoke up.

“You don't have to think too deeply about the details of its possibility, my boy. I'm your father,” he said again.

I didn't know what to say or think. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I managed to speak.

“Where have you been all these years? I've searched for my roots for a very long time, and I didn’t know where to look,” I said, allowing the tears to flow.

It was a hard pill to swallow. Questions about my roots started arising when I noticed I used a different surname from my foster parents. I asked them why I couldn’t use their own surname, but they never gave me a specific answer. It later occurred to me that he'd given them the order not to change my surname.

No wonder we share the same surname! I said to myself. Everything was gradually becoming very clear to me.

“Why?” I asked again. He wasn't saying anything. It was as though he was booting before he spoke. He was obviously looking for what to say.

“My dear, it's not what you think. I can never for no reason abandon you,” he said, trying to clear off any doubts.

“I had an issue that involved a strong mafia group some time ago. They wanted to use my vehicles for the smuggling of certain hard drugs, which I declined. Their leader ran after me for years, trying to get me to do his dirty bidding. I, on the other hand, am a man of great repute and didn’t want anything to soil the name I'd taken years to build.

In the process, I lost your mom. The news came to me that very day in the office after I got a letter from their leader. They threatened that if I reported the issue to the police or any enforcement agency, they'd kill my entire family. Out of fear and determination to preserve you, I decided to take a step. I knew at once that the next target could be you. I sought after Mr. Brian here, who has been my friend since high school. I begged him to take you in, so I could find a way to leave that cursed city and run for my own dear life,” he stopped abruptly to clean the tears already welling up in his eyes.

He cleared his throat.

“You started living with them until I brought those men to book. Many times I escaped the traps set for me. As we speak, some of them are still out there and on the lookout for me. It took a lot of time before their kingpin was brought to book, about six years.

I wanted you to maintain a low profile because I have no idea who's still out there, and in order to protect you from danger, I made you live here and, moreover, learn the art of business and financial studies in order for you to take over after my demise.”

I could see that look of pain and anguish on his face. He was, beyond doubt, a depressed man. At once, every pain and anger burning in me died. I couldn’t stand the sight of watching him cry. Without hesitation, I ran towards him and hugged him. The reunion of father and son was obvious.

Things remained crystal clear to me. He's always been the one sending in the money for my upkeep and every other thing I needed. As far as I knew, I lacked nothing. Nothing at all. The Brian's made everything very easy for me, all thanks to my father, Mr. Smith.

As they'd always say, The rich also cry. That was the case with my dad. He was looking all well and fine in the public's eyes, but deep down, he was facing a lot.

“I’m so sorry, my son. Father loves you so much and wouldn't want to abandon you, as you've always thought. I did what I did to protect you, to ensure that you have everything at your disposal. All my wealth belongs to you after my demise. You own everything,” he said reassuringly as he caressed my face.

My father hurriedly went back to the city to continue his work. Now I know my roots and never have to ask much anymore. The most painful of all was my mother's death. I didn’t get to spend quality time with her before her sudden demise.

Most importantly, I have access to my father now, so I call him at will. I couldn't visit him at his office, but he showed me around via video calls. The father and son connection was unparalleled. I was most grateful to my foster parents for everything; people like them are rare.

I haven’t felt like this in a very long time. I was enjoying the moment, not knowing it would only last for a short time.

That fateful day came. It all seemed like a movie in the cinema.

I returned home from where I had gone to give them the for my cookies. I met my foster father crying. He was really in a very bitter state. I ran to him to know what exactly was wrong.

“Your…your…your father,” he managed to say, stuttering.

“Your father's dead!” he said.

I held my head, spun at a 180⁰, and collapsed. The last thing I heard was shouts of my name as my foster mother searched for water.

Everything spun out of control at that instant. The world around me felt like a cruel joke, where my father, the man who had been fighting for so many years, was gone. Just when I thought I had gotten my life back, my roots finally connected, tragedy struck. But that wasn’t the worst part. I saw the look in my foster father's eyes, a look of guilt, of sorrow, but most of all, of fear.