Anger

Francesco’s POV

“I have reviewed the sales memo and am quite impressed with how high the quarterly profit has risen,” I said into the desk microphone. “Kudos to the marketing team.”

“Thank you, sir,” The team leader of the marketing department, Ava, said.

“So that's all for today,” I continued. “Or does anyone have a question?”

“No, sir,” Everyone chorused.

“In the absence of none, I hereby declare this meeting over,” I said, rising up to my feet.

Moments later as I trekked into the elevator, my phone vibrated with a notification. Swiping it open, I saw that it was a text message from April, which went thus;

“Hi, Francesco. I'm sorry about that day. I was too pissed off with my dad and brother, so I didn't know what I was saying. I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow. Forgive me, please?”

“Okay. It's cool.” I simply replied, before placing my phone on the desk.

I had decided against texting her informally as I wanted to keep my distance from her. My being friendly with April had brought nothing but misunderstandings and weirdness, and I didn't want that anymore.

As a matter of fact, I didn't even want to get entangled with anyone again.

My new significant other was my company and I couldn't have it any other way.

Just then, a knock came on the door.

“Come in,” I said, switching on my MacBook.

Patrick looked frantic as he walked in holding an iPad, which made me divert my attention from the work on my MacBook to him.

“You need to see this, sir,” He said, stretching the iPad to me.

Collecting the device from him, I perused the article he had opened on the screen, my brows furrowed in perplexion.

Rage tinged with confusion and disbelief coursed through me as I read through the whole thing.

According to the article, my father, Marco De Luca, who was imprisoned for money laundering and embezzlement of government funds, when I was just fifteen, had been released, and seeking to reclaim his company, which had now become mine.

“He must be a fucking joker,” I spat, handing Patrick the iPad. “Maybe prison made him delusional. What the hell does he mean by that?”

Even before he was imprisoned, my father was never truly in my life. In all honesty, none of my parents were ever there.

I was raised by the myriad of nannies we had back then, but at least my mum had taken time to show up at important events in my life, such as my middle school graduation and stuff.

My father on the other hand was always in various countries with his mistresses. Before he went to imprison, his company had even gone bankrupt and was seized by the bank.

It had taken a lot of resources on my part before it was eventually released to me. I had put all my blood, sweat, and tears in rebuilding the mess of a company from the start.

I didn't do all that at just eighteen for my deadbeat dad to come out of prison and reclaim my company.

Hell to the fucking no!

“So what is the next line of action, sir?” Patrick asked, as I paced the room in a bid to calm my rageful mind.

“We ignore him,” I replied. “Act like he doesn't exist. He most definitely doesn't even know what he's saying. You may leave.”

As Patrick turned to exit my office, the iPad dinged and he looked at me.

“What?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Your father just sent a lawsuit,” He said, showing me the document. “It seems he's serious about it. Your lawyer is currently on a leave. Should I find another one?”

That fucking jerk.

Before I could respond, Patrick's iPad started dinging repeatedly, and I grabbed it from him.

“This man must be joking,” I hurled, as I read the latest news on my father.

Not only was he serious about taking my company, he was currently in Australia where it's headquarters were.

To think he never even had a hand establishing that branch and had only building one, which was the one I was currently in, yet he had the audacity to be there.

“If Francesco De Luca is open to settling things, then I also am. But if he isn't, then I'm ready to fight for my company. It still carries my name, so it is mine. He only looked after it for me while I went to prison, which is expected of a son.” My father had told one reporter.

Reading his statement made me burst into a mirthless peal of laughter as I shook my head.

How pathetic. The douchebag couldn't even refer to me as his son.

“What is he even planning to do in Australia?” I asked no one in particular. “Does he think he has automatic access to my company?”

“You know what,” I said before Patrick could respond. “I'm going to Australia. In the meantime, I will call my uncle.”

My uncle, Caruso Rivel, was the chief of the most reputable law firm in Australia. If my dad wanted a legal battle, then I was more than ready for him.

My mum was Australian. She met my dad in America where she was an exchange student for a semester.

+

“Hi, mum,” I said, as Colin, the driver my uncle sent, loaded my luggage into the waiting Range rover.

“How are you, sweetie? I saw the news about your father,” She said.

“I'm so pissed right now,” I replied. “I just landed in Australia. He said he wants my company. Who the hell does that? What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“Take it easy, dear. You know, no matter what, he's still your father, so you have to tread carefully,” Mum said, to my utter disbelief. “I wish you can settle with him outside of court. Maybe give him one or two of the branches. You have about nine, right?”

“Are you serious, mum?” I spat, as Colin opened the door to the backseat. “You want me to give that cheating scoundrel my company just because he's my father. Are you even listening to yourself?”

“I don't want enmity between the two men I care about,” Mum's teary reply came as I sat in the car.

Repressing the urge to reply rudely, I ended the call and slotted the phone into my pocket.

I couldn't believe my mother was really supporting the same man who put her through years of public embarrassment with several affairs.

About thirty minutes later as he parked the car in front of a tall building, Colin announced, “We are here, sir,”

“Alright, thank you,” I replied, stepping out of the car, to see Uncle Caruso, standing at the building's entrance.

“Francesco, the man!” He chuckled heartily as I walked up to him.

“Good afternoon, uncle,” I greeted, and he huffed before pulling me into a hug.

“You were way shorter the last time I saw you,” Uncle Caruso said, as we disengaged from the hug. “How have you been, my favourite nephew?”

“I've been good until that man was released from prison,” I truthfully said. “To think your sister is even supporting him is crazy.”

My uncle's countenance became serious as he slapped me on my back.

“I knew she would. Bridget has never been one to make good decisions,” Uncle Caruso replied. “You are the only good product of their trashy marriage. Enough about them, let's go meet your attorney.”

“Alright,” I replied, walking beside my uncle into the building.

We took an elevator to the third floor before walking to the fifth room on the right wing.

After three knocks, Uncle Caruso pushed the door open and my jaw nearly hit the floor.

Lo and behold, Josephine was sitting behind a desk, typing away on a computer, utterly oblivious to the world around her.

It was only when my uncle cleared his throat that she noticed our presence and stood up, her eyes widening as she looked at me.

“Good afternoon, sir,” She greeted my uncle, her face expressionless.

My initial surprise was gradually replaced with vitriolic anger as I did my best not to glare at the contemptuous wench.

“Afternoon, Jo,” Uncle Caruso replied, then gestured to me. “Meet Francesco De Luca, my nephew and Francesco, this is Josephine Perkins, the best company attorney I know.”

“Nice meeting you, Mr De Luca,” Josephine said to me, and I simply nodded because I didn't trust myself not to utter a hateful response.

“I will leave you two to talk as I have a meeting now,” Uncle Caruso said before taking his leave.

Leaving me with Josephine, which did nothing to alleviate the fury currently coursing through me.