Irresistible Boss Succumbing to Your Touch (Maria Anita) novel Chapter 3

Manuela’s POV

When I saw those four coming in as if they'd just left a funeral, I knew something was wrong, but I waited to ask. My father looked devastated, my brother seemed like a caged wild animal, my sister-in-law was trying to maintain that conciliatory smile she always used during crises, and Flavian looked like a lost little boy. Something was definitely wrong.

It wasn't long before Melissa left. I thanked her for spending the afternoon with me - she made me laugh, we watched old movies, I opened up to her about things I didn't like talking about, and we gorged ourselves on ice cream and cookies. When Rick and Lexie arrived, they made an effort to make me laugh, and what had happened to me became a seemingly distant memory. But they slipped away quietly, leaving just my family, Flavian, and me.

"Now spit it out, what's going on?" I looked at them seriously. I wouldn't wait another second for them to tell me what was making them act this way.

"Little one, we have some things to tell you, and they're very important things," Flavian began, but he didn't sit next to me; he sat in the nearby armchair. My father and brother sat beside me, one on each side.

"I'm listening," I stared at him, but he seemed unsure where to start. "And before you ask where to begin, I suggest starting from the beginning."

"Manu, look at this photo," Cam handed me his phone.

I looked at that photo without understanding - it looked like a photo of me that he had aged using some computer program. Then I looked at him, confused.

"That's not you in the photo," Cam rushed to explain. I looked to the side and saw my father's eyes were misty.

"Who is it then?" I asked.

"It's my mother. You never saw photos of her because Rita burned all the ones at home, but our grandparents had several photos of her and gave them to me. I have an album and this one on my phone," Cam explained, but I didn't understand where he was going with this.

"Strange, I look like her," I commented, looking at the photo again.

"Yes, you look very much like her," Cam replied. "Especially after you went through this change and got those highlights in your hair, got rid of your glasses and braces and that awful bangs. And it was only after this change that we noticed," Cam laughed, and I laughed with him.

"That's why everyone looked so surprised when they saw me that day at your house. But what does this mean?" I asked.

"It means I thought you weren't Rita's daughter, I thought you were my mother's daughter." Cam's words echoed in my mind, and I felt dizzy. "I talked to Flavian, and he decided to investigate."

"Most likely," Cam was crying but holding onto my hand.

"This woman needs to go to jail, she needs to be arrested, I don't care if she's my mother or not, she has to pay for this," I was so outraged that I shifted on the couch, and my father rubbed my back.

"It's not that simple, Manu. In any case, the statute of limitations has expired on this crime," Flavian summarized.

"But if she wasn't pregnant and if you buried your wife and daughter, who is my mother?" I asked, looking at my father who couldn't speak through his tears.

"My little one, we don't know. It could be that your mother is the woman nurse Rosalia told Breno about, who says she had twins, because Rita had nurse Gisele deliver Cam's mother's baby, and that was on the same day the other woman gave birth. But what's written here might not even be true, and Rita might really be your mother." Flavian looked into my eyes, and I could see the effort he was making to stay strong, to be my rock.

"I need to know, how will we know?" I was in agony, but then I realized something. "Wait, if Rita isn't my mother, are you not my father?"

At that moment, my father broke down and needed support. His almost childlike crying and sobs tore my soul to shreds. I hugged him as tight as I could; I wouldn't accept not being his daughter, I wouldn't accept not being the daughter of this good man who loved me and taught me the first things in life.