Chapter 5-You Worry Too Much

Tristan’s POV

By the time I stepped into the house, the urgency from the call had already faded.

My sister, Patricia, was waiting at the foyer.

“She’s been asking for you,” she said. “Her blood pressure spiked earlier, and we tried to calm her down, but she just wouldn’t budge.”

I didn’t respond. I walked past her, taking the stairs two at a time.

I stood right in front of abuela’s door, taking a deep breath before I pushed it open.

She sat upright, looking less fragile than I had imagined. The moment her eyes landed on me, her expression changed.

“Tristan, there you are,” she said, as if she hadn’t just caused a scene. “Come on in.”

I exhaled softly, stepping closer. “Patricia said something was wrong.”

“Yes. You weren’t home,” she replied.

“You scared everyone.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” She said, tapping the space next to her, gesturing for me to sit.

“But I am fine.” I said as I reached for the glass of water beside her.

I sat next to her, helped her drink the water.

She took a slow sip.

“I had a terrifying dream,” she said quietly. “I’m allowed to be worried, aren’t I?”

“I understand, Abuela, but sometimes you don’t have to get so worked up about something as trivial as a dream,” I replied calmly. “The doctor said you need enough rest, so your blood pressure is regulated.”

“Rest is for the dead. I’m not dead yet,” she replied. “Besides, the dream I had wasn’t trivial.”

“Regardless, you still need to be calm.”

A brief pause settled in the room.

“When are you getting married, Tristan?” she asked quietly.

My jaw tightened slightly. Talk about perfect timing. I was expecting that question.

“Abuela—“

“No!” She cut in sharply. “Don’t ‘Abuela’ me. Every time I bring it up, you always find a way to avoid it.”

“I’m dying, Tristan,” she continued. “Don’t you think I deserve a great-grandchild before I die?”

I ran a hand through my hair, already feeling the conversation slipping into something familiar.

“You worry too much.”

“I worry because you still refuse to give me the one thing I want,” she said, her voice softer now. “A wife, Tristan.”

“Let’s not even talk about what I want,” she continued. “I want to see you settled. I want to know that you’re not alone.”

“I have you and Patricia.”

“Patricia is your sister. Of course, she will always be with you. But I’m talking about a companion.”

I remained silent.

“You won’t have to worry about that.” I said finally.

Her eyes locked on me. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll handle it.”

“That is not an answer.” she said.

“It’s the only one you’re getting tonight.”

She let out a short breath.

“You know, you’re just like your mother. She was also very stubborn.”

“You tell me all the time,” I said, grinning softly.

I adjusted the blanket over her, quietly and carefully.

“Get some rest.” I muttered as I kissed her forehead.

I stood there for a few seconds, watching her drift off. I made sure she was actually asleep this time before I walked out.

I saw Patricia heading to her room as I stepped out.

“She’s fine now.” I said.

She nodded. “I’m going to get some rest.”

I pulled her into a warm embrace, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Sleep well, hermanita.”

Daniel was waiting downstairs.

“Is she okay?” he asked.

“She’s fine.”

Daniel nodded. “Okay, that’s good.”

There was a brief pause.

“How did the date go?” Daniel asked.

My gaze flickered slightly.

“Well, she’s a hard nut to crack.”

Daniel let out a short laugh. “Tell me about it.”

“Anyway,” he continued. “The Whitmore deal is locked in. Papers are ready whenever they are.”

“Good,” I said. “Just make sure everything goes smoothly.

“But there just might be a problem,” Daniel said.

“And what could that be?” I asked.

“Marcus isn’t being completely honest with us.”

“How so?” I asked. “Is it about the debt?”

“Not just the debt,” he replied. “There are other liabilities. And it’s—“

My phone buzzed in my pocket, cutting him off.

I pulled it out and glanced at it. My expression darkened.

“What is it?” Daniel asked.

“Fuck.”

“Everything okay, Tristan?”

I looked up at him. “What? Yes. Everything’s okay.”

He looked at me like he didn’t believe a word I said.

“Are you sure?”

“You should go. We’ll continue our discussion tomorrow.”

“Very well then,” he said. “Good night.”

I didn’t move immediately after Daniel left.

The sound of the door closing echoed faintly through the house before silence settled in.

Then I turned.

My steps were unhurried as I walked down the hallway, past the main living area, toward a part of the house most people didn’t even know existed.

I stopped in front of a door.

There was no handle or visible lock.

I pressed my thumb against the scanner.

A soft click followed.

The door unlocked.

I stepped inside.

The air was colder down here, heavier.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.

A quiet flick.

The flame danced briefly before the tip glowed.

I took a slow drag, exhaling just as I moved further in.

A figure sat in the dim light ahead. Still.

I stopped a few steps away, eyes settling on the man.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Please, Tristan,” he begged.

I let out a dark laugh. “Do you think anyone would hear you?”

I took another drag from the cigarette.

“You know, you’re making things harder for yourself than they already are.”

There was a brief silence.

“I’ll deal with you when I have the time,” I continued. “But right now…”

I flicked the cigarette away, the ember dying on the floor.

“…you stay exactly where you are.”

I turned and left the room.

His pleas echoed behind me, desperate and broken.

I didn’t look back because I didn’t care.