Manuela’s POV
It seemed things were finally calming down. I got home yesterday after college and Flavian was waiting for me, divorce papers in hand - he was finally divorced. Sabrina was in the past, nothing more than a bad memory now.
But he had to work a shift on Saturday, and I would spend the day alone. I planned to use the time to prepare for the upcoming exam week at college. It was mid-afternoon when the doorman called to tell me I had a visitor, someone unexpected whom I wasn't sure I wanted to see, but couldn't refuse. I authorized their entry, quickly changed clothes to look somewhat presentable for my visitor, and sent Flavian a message about the visit.
When I opened the door, I found myself facing a man as tall as Flavian who, despite his gray hair, shared many similarities with my boyfriend. Mr. Cesar Moreno was an imposing man, the type who exuded power, wealth, and confidence. Upon seeing me, he offered a polite smile and even appeared friendly. He came in and seemed to observe every detail of the apartment.
"Manuela, correct?" He extended his hand to greet me very politely.
"Yes, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you," I returned the greeting, and he just smiled. I tried to control the nervousness rising in my throat.
"Please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you anything?" I asked, trying to be polite with my boyfriend's father who was, without even trying to hide it, sizing me up from head to toe.
"I would accept some coffee," he replied naturally and seemed willing to be friendly.
"Of course. Just a minute," I excused myself and went to the kitchen to prepare the coffee.
While preparing the drink, I found myself thinking about the figure sitting on my living room sofa. He was a charming and friendly man, completely different from what I had imagined. In recent days, Flavian had told me so much about how controlling and authoritarian his father was that I really hadn't expected to find him likable when I met him. I returned to the living room with the tray and served the coffee under my visitor's careful scrutiny, who thanked me without losing his smile.
"Manuela, is Flavian on duty?" He asked me, but I had the feeling he already knew the answer.
"Yes, sir. But I informed him that you are here; he will surely come to meet you," I said, certain that the man was there to see his son.
"Thank you, dear. But I did not come to see Flavian. I came to see you." He was so direct that I was left speechless. "I think we need to talk. Tell me, Manuela, what do you think about my son's profession? Doesn't it bother you that he works on weekends, some nights..."
"Sir, it would be a lie if I said I am not concerned about the risks, because I worry a lot. But as for his shifts, it's his job, I don't mind. As long as Flavian is happy with what he does, I'm satisfied." I knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear, but I wouldn't lie to please him.
"I imagine you know about the family business," he examined me carefully. I felt like I was in a display window under his watchful gaze.
"Vaguely, honestly it's none of my business and I don't care about it."
"And you don't care that I'm going to disinherit Flavian because he refuses to work in the family business?" This man was very direct and it was intimidating; he asked questions openly and with such calmness that it gave me chills.
He finished his coffee and placed the cup back on the tray.
"Young lady, you're very young. Perhaps you don't understand what a dynasty means, the importance of heirs continuing their parents' legacy..."
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