Indebted: A Debt-p*****t Romance (English Version)

Chapter 5: Conqueror

Those eyes were pitch black, the eyes of the Señorito. After hearing the terrible news that Mr. Montevalles would be home by now, I didn't notice. Instead, I found myself staring at his son sitting across from me.

Their resemblance was apparent, from the shape of their thick and dark eyebrows to the darkness in their eyes, making it difficult to see the sclera. It might seem impossible to notice, but staring like I am doing now is a must.

It takes bravery to stare back at him like this as if my fight-or-flight response has commanded me to do so. Staring back won't do me any good, as it can be dangerous, but I still do it. And in return, I have to be prepared to face the consequences.

As our eyes remained locked, his vacant eyes slowly changed. If I'm not mistaken, amusement suddenly coated his eyes. He shook his head to himself until the pleasure turned into mocking dismay. "You're scared of him, aren't you?"

I blinked and almost pulled my chair back. I might have done it if Manang Imelda weren't holding onto the back of my chair.

His suspicion is true, but a part of me doesn't want to admit it to him. He glared at me when I didn't answer. It seemed like he wouldn't take his eyes off me until I gave him a response.

I gulped and could only blink as the lump in my throat became unbearable. With trembling hands, I reached for the glass of water. His eyes darted to it, growing darker after noticing my trembling.

At that moment, confusion took hold of me. I wasn't sure if I was trembling because of my fear of his father or his presence here. His company was already intimidating; what would it be like if he gave me his full attention? And I knew those eyes would haunt me even in my sleep.

Luckily enough, and oddly enough, I was grateful for the noise we heard from the living room. It was ridiculous because Mr. Montevalles announced his arrival in his usual manner, but I was still thankful.

I was perplexed by them both. They were both intimidating, embodying the saying 'like father, like son.' I was scared of both of them and wanted to stay away.

Whenever that fear struck, one would suddenly appear and help divert my suspicion from the other. If I were nervous because of the father, the son would somehow emerge to save me without them knowing they were saving me and knowing that the one who saved me was also giving me fear.

"Is everyone home?" Mr. Montevalles called from the living room. Just from his voice, I could tell he was drunk. As I mentioned, I was saved from his son's question, but now I was afraid because of the drunken father.

What he did to me last time was still fresh in my mind. He was also drunk. What if...

My unsteady eyes landed on the dining hall door. Manang Imelda was the first to check for whatever was broken. My feet moved on their own to follow her. I didn't look back at the son, fearing I would only see mockery in his eyes.

"Ron!" Manang Imelda screamed in horror after seeing Mr. Montevalles lying motionless on the floor. Next to him was the broken lamp and an antique vase on the table.

I walked over to them to see what had happened. Manang Imelda knelt to help Mr. Montevalles. I could see that she couldn't do it on her own. But I couldn't move. I was paralyzed by what I was witnessing. The great Mr. Montevalles, whom I had known for only a few days and who had caused trouble for me, was lying helplessly on the floor.

"Help me here, Tatiana!" Manang Imelda struggled to reposition Mr. Montevalles on the floor.

I blinked several times, first because of what she used to call me. We needed a proper introduction here. It was shocking to hear her addressing me by my real name. But if there were a proper introduction, I would give them my nickname, not my real name. It had been a long time since I heard that name because I never gave it to anyone.

The second reason I was shocked was because of what she meant. She wanted me to help her with Mr. Montevalles. Was I so bad that I had considered letting him sleep on the cold floor all night as vengeance for how he treated me?

"Miss Imelda," Suzeth's familiar voice called from behind me. "The Señorito is asking for you. He said he hasn't finished eating."

Confusion showed on her face as she contemplated what to do first, but she decided to leave Mr. Montevalles. "Take care of him. Help him get to his room."

Her confusion transferred to me. Was I supposed to do it alone? I struggled to help her; how could I do it alone? How was I supposed to do that?

Her troubled face softened a little. She reached for my hands and gently squeezed them. "He will appreciate it. Believe me."

Then she left me and walked with Suzeth back to the dining hall. Absent-mindedly, I nodded to myself. Would he appreciate it? Mr. Montevalles? Me helping him? Would he? Why did it feel so hard to believe? He had almost killed me out of anger; what would he do if he knew I approached him like this?

I jumped in surprise, hearing his struggling moan. He kept whispering obscure words, reaching out with his left hand as if asking for help.

Suddenly, he was no longer the frightening and horrible Mr. Montevalles. He looked like someone mourning and grieving the loss of his wife. If I was right and that was the reason for his current situation, he also knew I was not his wife. So why was I here? Why did they keep insisting that I was his wife and that I was his son's mother?

As I took two steps forward, my thoughts halted about Mr. Montevalles, and instead, my mind flew back to his son. Manang Imelda had returned inside because he wasn't finished with his food. Really? I was sure he knew what was happening to his father. Did he not care? He should have let Manang Imelda and me help his father here.

If they thought or pretended I was his mother, I had the right to teach him a lesson. He was old enough to feed himself! He could handle things independently, so he should know how to feed himself!

Frustration washed over me, and I felt annoyed for the first time since my arrival here. Not confused, nervous, fearful, or worried, but truly annoyed because of the person who seemed to care less about the person I feared.