Enemies in love

My name is Angie Goldensmith, and I was only 9 years old when it all began.

Most people have a beautiful or amusing story to tell about their childhood, but unfortunately, that's not how I grew up.

Everything I experienced as a child marked my life forever.

I was born into a very wealthy home, with all the comfort that a rich girl is accustomed to having; I was destined to be the great heiress of the city, or rather, the country.

My father was Alberto Goldensmith, a successful businessman who grew in his field every day. He traded gold, more precisely, jewelry made of the purest gold.

He was always a serious and distant man to most people, including my mother, but with me, my father was a different person; he was my hero.

Whenever we were alone, he told me many stories and gave me advice, despite the world we lived in.

The main pole of the gold factory was in the center of Montrisud, one of the wealthiest cities in all of Fetmancity.

It was a world full of glamour and comfort, but there was no love. My father and mother were always arguing because everything he thought about was related to work, and he never had time for us. My mother seemed increasingly tired of waiting for him to have time for us, but it wasn't just at home that my father faced conflicts.

In one of his business deals, Dad had scammed one of his buyers. I'm not sure what he had done, and at the time, I was too young to understand, but it was something serious. To resolve the situation, Dad just needed to return the money, but he was no longer the same. The only thing that mattered to him was money, damn money. He didn't even think that so much greed could affect the safety of his family.

The buyer who had been deceived was Jhon Stouths. I didn't know him, but after a while, I heard about his reputation.

He was known as a man of questionable character and extravagant desires. He owned one of the largest jewelry stores in Montrisud, and he was always known for using dubious means to get what he wanted. But in turn, my father had deceived him, and he wouldn't let it go.

A few weeks after the scam, our family received numerous threatening calls and letters.

Dad laughed at the threats as if they were unfounded until terrible things began to happen.

After the threats, Jhon started to act. He had said in the threats that he would take away everything my father loved the most.

Dad continued to think that it was just a bluff, but Jhon proved him wrong.

One Sunday, everyone was gathered for a family lunch when Dad received a call.

He was stunned and let the phone fall; we all stayed curious to know what had happened.

Mom picked up the phone; it was Aunt Samantha, Dad's sister. She was very nervous and cried inconsolably. She said that Grandma had died.

I had never had contact with Grandma; I only knew her from photographs, so for me, it was a sad tragedy.

But for Dad, it was a terrible blow. He had an increase in blood pressure and had to be admitted. He stayed two days under observation, and the doctors recommended to Mom that he shouldn't stress himself.

What I never understood was how Dad had been absent for so long, and at that moment, he seemed to have such a strong connection with Grandma?

The observation period had barely ended, and Dad was already back at work. Mom had begged him not to return to work so quickly.

"Please, dear, stay here for a while. If you want, we can go to the countryside to rest a little," she suggested. But he ignored her request once again. Mom's look of disappointment couldn't be disguised.

Even with all the problems, even with Dad disconnecting from the family for a long time, Mom was always patient and kind. To me, she was the sweetest woman in the world. She always said:

"Angie dear, don't be sad. Dad is only acting like this because he's grieving for Grandma. Soon he'll be back to his old self."

Who did she think she was fooling? Both of us knew it wasn't true. As long as the damn company was doing well, Dad wouldn't be the same.

I wished it was like before when Dad was always at home and always had time to play with me and take care of the family. Before, he and my mother seemed so in love. I even heard them talk about the idea of ​​having a second child, but that idea was soon put on the back burner.

Before, Dad was just the Vice President of the company, but after Grandpa's death, a highly suspicious death that was not thoroughly investigated, Mom mentioned that Grandma could take over the presidency. But Dad said that the employees didn't like her much, and she used to be unpleasant with most of the partners, so they would never accept her. All the shareholders voted for my father to assume the presidency, and that's when the work doubled.

Since the company started to grow, he only cared about working. He didn't play with me, didn't come home every night, and to make up for it, he gave me expensive toys, jewelry, and expensive clothes for Mom. They argued every night when Dad arrived.

I remember the threats didn't stop. One day, I was alone with the nanny, and the phone rang. When I answered, it seemed to be a recording that said:

"Do you really think I'm joking? Don't make me lose my patience. Return everything you stole from me right away, or I won't have mercy!"

I hung up the phone terrified; my legs were trembling. I didn't understand well, but from what I heard, Dad was a thief, and this voice wanted to harm him.

I didn't want to believe it; I couldn't believe that my father, my hero, was being threatened like a criminal.

There had to be an explanation for all this.

At night when Dad arrived, I told him everything. At first, Dad thought it was a product of my imagination, but the nanny confirmed my version.

I saw his expression change; he exchanged glances with Mom, who seemed to understand everything.

"Come, Angie, let's go to the room. You need to rest," said the nanny.

I didn't want to go; I wanted to stay there, wanted to know.

"No! I want to know the truth! I have the right to know, Dad!" I shouted determined.

I needed the answer; I needed to know if my father was a criminal.

My mother looked at me in awe.

Dad approached seriously.

He knelt down to be at my height.

He looked at me firmly and touched my cheek lightly.

Suddenly, he smiled, not the broad and engaging smile as usual.

It was a weak, almost faded smile, as if he felt a lot of pain when smiling.

That distressed me.

"Look at you, my little angel... Wow! How you've grown!" he said, sitting me on his lap.

"I've grown, Dad, I'm almost hitting Mom's shoulder, look." I said, approaching my mother so that he could measure the heights.

He stood still, without speaking for a few minutes.

"What's wrong, Dad? Are

you sad? Was it the call from that man that left you like this?" I asked, concerned.

"No, my dear, it's just longing."

"Longing? Longing for what, Dad?"

"Longing for the time I lost, my little angel... Longing for when everything was simpler, when the three of us spent all our time together."

He said thoughtfully.

And Mom looked at him with watery eyes.

"Oh, Dad, but we still have plenty of time! Just take a vacation! We can go to the countryside, have a picnic, barbecue by the lake, play ball, eat cake. It will be splendid!"

"Splendid? Where did you learn that word, my little angel?" Dad asked, smiling.

"From Mom, of course! Did you forget that she is the best writer in the world? She let me read some chapters of her new book. I couldn't read it all because it's an adult book, but when I read the first chapter, it said, true love makes everything splendid!"

I looked it up in the dictionary and found out.

"Splendid means bright, shining, splendid.

And that's how our love is, Dad! Splendid!"

Mom burst into laughter, but her eyes were sad.

"Oh, my dear, Isis is right. You are the light of our lives."

He said.

I sat on Dad's lap again and looked deep into his eyes.

"You are my light, Dad!"

I didn't know what I had said, but Mom burst into tears, and she didn't seem to be just emotional.

"Mom? What's wrong, Mom? You are my light too; there's no need to be sad."

I tried to console her.

But Dad intervened.

"Well, young lady, it's time to go to bed. Don't worry; I'll take care of Mom."

"Let's go, Angie."

Said Estela, my nanny.

I was too confused to respond, so I just obeyed, but my heart was broken to see my mother crying so much.

I went to my room, but I resisted sleep for a long time.

I wished I were a little fly to know what was happening outside.

Why was Mom so emotional? Was she pregnant? I read that pregnant women cry for everything.

I got excited about the idea of having a little brother, and soon sleep managed to reach me.