Episode 4

The day dawned gray, laden with heavy clouds, as if even the sky knew that something dark loomed over Fernando Lopez.

He had spent the night awake, dwelling on every word exchanged at the wake, every disguised glance from Valeria, every promise that made no sense.

When he finally decided to go to her apartment, it was as if he were clutching at a last thread of hope, the last breath before drowning.

He drove through the streets of Madrid in silence, only the rumble of the engine and the weight of memories filling the air.

The apartment door was unlocked. Strange...

With the pistol in hand, he entered calling her name, the fear that something had been done to her was great.

"Valeria?"— his voice weak, almost a whisper.

Silence was the only answer. The apartment was strangely empty, as if someone had ripped the soul out of the place. The closet, once full of expensive dresses and designer shoes, was wide open, with empty hangers.

Fernando walked through every room, nothing...

He returned to the entrance hall and, on the coffee table, a white envelope with his name written in elegant and firm handwriting. Fernando felt his heart race. He sat down, slowly opened the paper and began to read:

FERNANDO

"Don't think this decision was easy for me. But I need much more than you can offer me now. I always imagined myself with a man who could give me the world. But you chose a path that is not what I dreamed for myself.

I need to live my life and it is not linked to yours. Goodbye."

It was simple, cold and straightforward. It was a knife that cut through his chest and pierced his heart. He read and reread the few lines, trying to find some trace of regret, but there was none. Only the realization that he had been a fool to believe in the feelings of a woman.

The paper trembled in his hands, and, before he could control the anger and pain, he threw the letter on the floor and began to knock down everything within his reach. A crystal vase shattered against the wall, a painting that he himself had given to Valeria, was torn with a single blow. He picked up a chair and threw it against the bookcase. The sound of broken glass echoed through the apartment, but brought no relief, only more emptiness.

"Damn it!"— he shouted, his voice choked.

The maid appeared terrified, but said nothing. She returned to the service area far from the wrath of that man.

Fernando was breathing heavily, his hands trembling, the memories of the two of them together came like stabs: the kisses in the cold dawns, the weekend trips, her scent impregnated in his clothes...

He left the apartment without looking back. He got into the car, and drove aimlessly, as if fleeing the familiar streets could make him flee from himself.

................

The first bottle came easy. At a corner bar, he ordered a double whiskey, then another. The faces of the people around him were just blurs. The loud music did not stifle the thoughts, it only gave rhythm to the chaos that consumed him.

In the following hours, he went from bar to bar, a castaway who looks for an island, but only finds more sea.

Old friends appeared, other strangers joined, and, between false laughs and full glasses, he tried to forget that the woman for whom he had risked everything was now at some airport, perhaps already in another country.

When the sun rose the next day, he no longer knew where he was. His head throbbed, his body begged for rest, but his heart screamed for more anesthesia. He went back to drinking like that for two days without sleeping properly, without eating, just drowning in alcohol and smoke.

On the third day, dawn found him at the door of a luxurious "nightclub," with a crumpled jacket, a loose tie and a glass of some expensive drink that he could no longer distinguish.

That's when he saw the black car parked in front.

The back door opened and out came an imposing figure, who needed no introduction: Maria del Pilar, the matriarch of the Lopez family, his grandmother. Beside her, as always, the faithful secretary, Raul.

Fernando widened his eyes in confusion.

"Grandma? What are you doing here?"

And she, firm and without raising her voice, simply replied:

"What I should have done since the day your grandfather died. Bring you back home."

He laughed, a bitter laugh.

"Home? I don't have a home anymore, I don't have anything anymore. The woman I love is gone."

Maria del Pilar approached. There was no judgment in her gaze, only the calculated coldness of someone who had seen many men get lost and knew when to pull the reins.

"And are you going to let her take the rest of you with her? Enough, Fernando. Get in the car."

The matriarch spoke, tapping her cane on the sidewalk, a clear sign of her impatience.

"I won't..."— he began, but Raul, discreet and quick, took the glass from his hand and held him by the arm.

"Mr. Fernando, madam is not asking, she is telling you..."

Raul's touch was not violent, but it was firm, Fernando knew that resisting there would be more humiliating than yielding. He took a deep breath, looked at the nightclub behind him, at the flashing lights, at the empty promise of another night like the last ones, and decided to get in the car.

In the back seat, the discreet scent of lavender that his grandmother had used for decades brought back memories of childhood, times when he did not carry the weight of adulthood.

"You are not going to destroy yourself for someone who never deserved you," said Maria del Pilar, looking ahead, as if talking to herself.

"And what's left for me, Grandma?"— he asked, his voice almost fading away.

"What has always been here remains. The family... your grandfather's legacy. And if you stop behaving like a wounded boy, maybe you can still give your life a direction."

The old woman pulled her grandson into a hug, his body moving, at that moment, Fernando was just a boy...

"Come on, calm down and act like the man your grandfather raised... you are capable and you will know that the disappearance of this woman was for the best."

For the first time in days, Fernando Lopez allowed himself to stay in the warm embrace of the matriarch Who had fists of steel in respect to the "organization" and that light pulse when it came to the grandchildren.

The car drove silently through the city, leaving behind the lights of the "nightclub," the glasses, the strangers...

All that was left was a broken man, returning home, where everyone expected him to be the next Don, to be the leader.

And, deep down, he knew he could no longer escape his responsibilities...

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