HAUNTED BY TRAGEDY
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Ximena, a 22-year-old Colombian student majoring in psychology. Sexy, passionate, courageous, strong-minded and independent. She was forced to marry due to commitments of her adoptive parents, with a young millionaire named Angelo, who secretly was the heir of a powerful Sicilian mafia. Who despises her saying that she was a freeloader, this tense situation caused her to ask for a divorce and return to her native country to recover the business of her biological parents who died in an apparent accident. She meets a lot of opposition from her uncle who took over the companies and cannot bear to give them to her, by chance she meets her ex-husband again without recognizing each other. They fall madly in love, supporting each other in their problems and fighting together against their enemies until they discover their secrets. Separating again, hating each other, but wanting to be together, only a miracle can bring them together again, will it happen? Dive into this exciting story, and you will discover this and other secrets.
Chapter 1; MY WEDDING AND BITTER MOON
A dream wedding, a white and illuminated church, full seats, and television news cameras; I was the bride; I wore a white dress with rhinestones; it seemed strange that my groom did not arrive; perhaps it was a Sicilian custom; perhaps it was my freckles? I don't think so because my many suitors have praised them along with my honey-colored eyes, my brown hair, and my toned body. Although I am not very tall, I am not small either. I have come to the conclusion that I am a Colombian beauty, a bombshell, which means that I would not because I am ugly.
The orchestra of the moment kept playing their repertoire; they already felt forced. I calmed down, thinking that they wanted to avoid their most successful song, which talks about heartbreak. I felt that the bouquet was getting heavier, and the heels, those heels that I chose to try to surpass, wanting to eclipse him somehow, now charged rent to my feet.
Furthermore, I look at the door, wanting a whirlwind to come in and take me to Oz or somewhere; possibly this cretin had the same idea as me: run out Before the wedding, and if I execute it,
The priest looks at me in silence, like everyone else. Although I hear murmurs, I only see long faces and closed mouths. It already looks like a funeral. I don't know what to do. Perhaps if I drink the wine to consecrate it and start dancing in the holy water fountain, I will draw some smiles from the guests. That would be better than stopping my crying.
I can't believe I'm looking at the door; it looks like a painting by some surrealist painters. An elegant car arrives, comes fast, and suddenly breaks. I hope it's him; by God, it's him. I can't focus well; the tears in my eyes distort me. It's a man dressed in black. I feel like fainting.
As I regain consciousness, I see everyone around me, I look for the one who came in asking,
“Who came in? Is it Angelo?”
“It was me, Mrs. Ximena; I am Mr. Angelo's lawyer. I brought you some documents.” He takes some documents out of a briefcase and says to me,
“These are the prenuptial agreements; I'm sorry I didn't square this before; also, a marriage certificate duly filled out; besides, he sends you a thousand apologies for not showing up for the marriage.”
“No, this is unfair; what a lack of seriousness! Why are you doing this to me?” I exploded furiously, throwing the documents.
My parents hug me, trying to minimize my crying, while the lawyer angrily shouts,
“I'm not to blame; who knows what you would do? You must be bad for...”
“Shut your mouth, you piece of garbage; the poor girl is right; Angelo will listen to me.” Don Joseph, the grandfather of the groom that everyone respected to a point of veneration, seemed to have magical powers because the face of the shoddy lawyer went from being red with exaltation to whitish with fear and he answered,
“A thousand pardons, I got carried away; the truth is, I am also very stressed with this matter; I don't understand Angelo's reasons for acting this way; I ask you to please excuse me; I am just another servant; I came prepared for this; and I brought more copies just in case.”
I calmed down, and I read the papers that I took out with his trembling hands. The first paragraph says that if he were to die of unnatural causes, I would be detained while the guilty parties were determined, and if they did not appear, I would be the main suspect. In addition to having no right to any of the assets or compensation from Angelo or anyone related to him or his family,
“How rude!” I exclaimed, “I am not an opportunist, and even less a murderer!”
“Sorry, my lady; I repeat, I am only a humble servant,” says the braggart, trembling.
The grandfather, Don Joseph, asks me to let him read them and exclaims,
“What's the meaning of this, that Angelo will hear me? Cancel everything!”
I feel some satisfaction; everyone will judge him; he was the one who stood me up, that little man, I put my face up; this is one more adversity, and since I was a little girl, I have defeated them. This is not going to be my Waterloo. I look at everyone; the contracted faces and diffuse looks darken the atmosphere. When I look at my parents, they don't deserve this. I have to give them the pride of marrying me on this day, as they expected. Besides all the other things at stake, in the end, what interests me the least about that gentleman is his filthy money; he can swallow it all if he wants, but I have better goals. That's why, in that instant before an outburst of madness or haughtiness, sponsored by revenge and hatred, I agree to sign, saying,
“Don Joseph, don't get upset; I will sign all those expletives. If there is a wedding, I have word and honor. I apologize to everyone present, and I will do my best to be your best hostess. Please turn the page. Let the joy come. It's a party. Besides, the people in charge of the party also eat, and surely they have already committed what they will earn serving the tables. Gentlemen of the orchestra, please play your song that sounds on all the radio stations.”
I signed each paper without reading it much, since each sentence that I managed to grasp felt like a blow. That bear treated me worse than Cain. Each thing I will keep in a chest with which I will break his mother when I can, well, I will be careful not to eliminate him. I do not want to have to spend a few years of my life locked up in a prison for someone who is not worth it.
When I finish signing the agreements, Don Joseph comes up to me, grabs my elbows, and very affectionately comments:
“If you want, you know you have my blessing. I wish I were a few years younger. I would not hesitate for a second to take your hand. Please, let's go to the celebration. I would like you to let me accompany you in the car of the newlyweds. I do not want you to look strange alone, although I do not want people to whisper that I am an old cradle robber with a young grave robber. Sorry if I offend you.”
“Not at all, Don Joseph; your presence honors me; it's a pity that Angelo didn't get anything similar to you.”
“It is possible that he fell out of the cradle or was given a bad tooth when he was a baby.”
We left laughing non-stop, snatching the space from the sadness; that wonderful man was an oasis in my desert of bitterness. When we arrived at the grand hacienda where the party would take place, the welcoming committee was perplexed, not because of my beauty but because, as Don Joseph predicted, they thought I was my sugar daddy. The party ran in relative calm; I happened to be the clown, and I had to paint a fake smile throughout the evening. Fortunately, I found a delicious Chilean drink, twice my age, which gave me comfort, and in my imagination, I prepared different reactions for when Angelo arrived.
In the end, it turned out that the wine ran out or finished with me, and the next thing I knew, I was being carried like a baby into a beautiful hotel suite, which seemed to have gold railings.
Chapter 2; TREATING AND AVOIDING
I woke up with a concert of drums in my head and an urgency that kicked me in the belly, threatening to shoot out of my throat. I got up, crawled to the bathroom, and vomited a lot. Furthermore, I make an effort to breathe while I make the oath of the dawn, “I do not drink again.” When leaving the bathroom, I am surprised to see a hand offering me a glass and the other two pills, I look at his face, and the floor seems to collapse. It was him; the cowardly dog was there with me. It is possible that the floor opened up and a river of lava flowed out of it. Filling me with anger, I slapped that glass, breaking it against the wall. “You are a bad man!” I shout at him and slap him in the face, and the very agile man stops it and answers me,
“Don't make things more difficult; they are already very complex.”
I follow him, trying to hit him with the other hand, which also grabs me and hugs me. Maybe it was the drink I still had in my system, but I felt
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