CHAPTER 1

Hatred is one of those emotions that arises when a person loaths you. You despise that person to the point that even the most insignificant actions on their part infuriate you.

That person is my father. I abhor him. I am appalled by his brazenness and how he interacts with others. Simply say, I despise him. A part of me wants to love him so badly that I often think about the times in the past when we had a healthy relationship. Still, those happy days never seem to come to my mind anymore because of how cruel he is.

He believes that I will follow him simply because I am his child. Oh, hell no, but I bet he wants me to. I owe him that I am for I am now, but he doesn't see me as her daughter at all. He is my father. Even though I should adore him, I don't. I despise him so much.

My older brother, Igor, yelled at us, "Bora, get your fat ass over here!" I heaved a sigh and rolled my eyes. "Going!" I yelled before jumping off of my bed and walking to his bedroom.

My brother is Igor Huessef Mafianni, and he's 22 years old. He is the heir to the business that my father founded. Still, despite his endearing personality and generosity, he is completely insane. Even though he makes it look like he does not dislike my father, he acts as though he does. Because of that, neither he nor I give a crap about him, even when I curse him and his sentiments.

Igor is the best, and he is always there for me.

He shows love to me as a brother and a sister at the same time. Because of that, he has my admiration. When my dad is being a jerk, he makes sure to check on me, treat me, and attend to my needs. Always and forever.

I proceeded down the hallway until I reached the end, where his room was located. I see him working at his desk as soon as I enter the door.

"What do you want?" I entered his room and headed to his bed.

"Before anything else, step away from my bed. And secondly, about Emir Alffiaco, if you wish to see him, you must be interrogated by your father. The name sounds familiar, isn't it?" He continued typing whatever he was writing, and I responded affirmatively.

"But listen, if you don't want to face him, I could tell Father, or I could go do it myself. If you don't want to." I'll love you even more if you know it. He faced me by turning his chair around.

The cruel enemy's name is Emir Alffiaco. He was a horrible man. When I say terrible, I mean awful. I'm talking about the kind of evil that involves prostitution rings and the exploitation of young women. To make my life a living misery, he is exploiting even the mafia. I will not stop seeking justice to ensure that he rots away in the deepest part of hell.

"Igor, everything is in order. I am capable of dealing with it, and if you had told father that I did not wish to, he would have yelled at me and called me a coward. You are familiar with how things work." I get out of bed and walk over to his desk to take a look at the sketchbook he has there.

Igor is a very talented artist. We have something in common because of that. Even though we share a connection over ideas, he is an excellent artist, and his works can be found in a gallery. "He said you should interrogate the enemy today because he's had him down there for about a week, and he needs information ASAP, so he needs you for it." My eyes were drawn to the sketchbook, but he quickly took it away and stuffed it in the cabinet.

"Fine, and I like the drawing. You're still drawing her, huh?" I look at his brown eyes with a pitiful expression as I empathize with him.

"Yeah, I am. Today is the anniversary. I will carry it to the cemetery as a gift for her where she rests." He takes his book out of his bag and shows me the drawing.

It was just stunning. She looks like a deity with her light brown eyes, long wavy hair, long, thick eyelashes, and beautiful brown melanin skin. In the bottom right corner of the drawing, I found the message "To my love Valentina, forever and always," along with a red rose. She has always had a soft spot for roses.

"I cannot believe it has been four years since we last saw her. I miss her, especially how she used to laugh at our lame jokes." When I put the sketch down, my brother's expression changed to disappointment.

"Bora, I miss her as much as you do, and it hurts. It's been four years of hell, and there's still no trace of her." He let a tear roll down to his cheek.

I put my hand over my brother's chin and forced him to look at me. I looked straight into his eyes.

"Igor, I know it will hurt you, but you have to have faith in me. I don't want to offer you false hope by stating that we'll find her because none of us are certain of that. Until then, remain strong for her." He envelops me in an embrace. Today is so emotional, causing a tightness in my chest.

Seeing my brother in this state causes me a lot of pain. He loved her deeply, and his feelings for her have not changed. Because none of us had a clear idea of what had happened with Valentina, this messes with all of us. She was kind and naive; she would never have dreamed of hurting anyone.

 It happened all of a sudden. One day, she was on her way to come over to our house. But never showed up, and ever since that time, there has been no hint whether she is still alive or not. They thought she had passed away, but they never located a body. Since we don't know what happened to her, we buried an empty casket, and it continues to cause Igor pain to this day.

"Okay, get off of me and go do what Dad asks before he comes and screams at me." He distanced himself and let out a lighthearted chuckle, which caused me to smile and laugh along with him.

"Yeah, whatever. You should go to the cemetery now. And if there is anything else you need, you can text me. I will get something to eat before I go into the basement because I do not want to argue with a man while I am hungry." I stood up and messed with his hair.

"Okay, sis. Show to that motherfucker what will happen when he messes with us." I respond by saying, "I will," as he walks away to use the restroom.