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CHAPTER 12

FIFTYEEN YEARS AGO,

Antonio Dante's pov,

I gasped as the cold water hit my skin. I had forgotten the weather was still cold. I turned off the shower abruptly, resting against the wall. I was sweating. panting even. I could barely breathe well.

My father is a bad person

My father is a bad person

My father is a bad person

As much as I tried to push those thoughts away, they kept coming back in waves and gushes of water. It was like cold air, infiltrating my senses most painfully. Allowing my nose to redden and my eyes to water.

Here I was, thinking everything was normal in my family. My father had a great business. One that was not infamously lucrative but one that was respected and worth every ounce of good hard work put into it. Not one that dealt with depravity.

I didn't even realize when my hand had connected with the activator. Didn't realize when I had pressed the cold button. Didn't even flinch once the cold water poured on my body. I was shivering. But not from the cold
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