The fact that he couldn't get his mother's ashes weighed heavily on his chest. He wanted her to rest in peace, away from that vile family.
They had already made her life miserable. He couldn't let them make her miserable in death as well. He was just waiting…waiting for the moment he could take her ashes back.
Now, Luis stood in his gym, smirking happily while dangling her name like bait. Marcel's finger tightened on the trigger. "Talk," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Annoyance flickered on Luis' face as he licked his teeth. If their father hadn't forced him to come find him, he wouldn't be here facing this iceberg. He most certainly wouldn't have a gun pointed at his chest. He would be on a yacht partying with his friends. He raised his hands slowly with feigned calmness.
"Brother... don't be like this," Luis said smoothly. "I came here to discuss serious business."
Marcel's finger squeezed the trigger slightly, tempted to end him where he stood. In the end, he pulled back. It took everything in him to restrain the murderous intent seething inside of him.
The silence was so loud that one could hear a pin drop. Marcel lowered the gun, and his men did the same. The threat level had gone down significantly, but the tension in the air didn't reduce at all. Marcel said, "You have two minutes, then get lost," as he limped towards the chair. Archie pulled it for him, and he sat down.
Luis sat down opposite him and smiled. Archie wanted to beat that infuriating smug off his face, but he restrained himself. "Father has a job for you... One last hit, and you will get all of your mother's ashes… and her belongings."
Marcel glared at him coldly. When Luis met his gaze, his blood ran cold. It was like being stared at by a predator that was on a leash just waiting for the day to tear him up to pieces. "One job?" Marcel asked.
Luis nodded, ready to get out of here. "One job, and you can have everything you want. You won't ever have to see my face again," he said with a smile, not quite reaching his eyes.
Marcel leaned back in his seat, scrutinizing him. He had learned long ago that nothing involving his family was ever simple. For what they were offering, it must be something big. "What's the job?" he asked.
Luis leaned over and said, "You have to agree to it first before I tell you."
Marcel clicked his tongue as he pushed himself to his feet, ready to leave. "Your two minutes are up. Show yourself out," he said and started walking away.
Luis, recalling how his father told him not to come back unless Marcel agrees, gritted his teeth and said, "Alright, alright... Let me show you." One of his men handed him a tablet. Luis slid it across the table. Marcel limped back and picked up the tablet, studying the screen.
"Just steal these things, that's all," Luis said, "Simple enough."
Marcel's eyes narrowed as he said, "If it was that simple, your father wouldn't have sent you to look for me."
"Our... father," he corrected bitterly while looking at Marcel's handsome face. Because of his mother, Marcel was incredibly handsome, which was why every girl he had ever liked gravitated towards him. That pissed him off a lot when he was younger. Sometimes he caught himself looking at his mother with disdain. Why wasn't she as beautiful as that bitch of a mistress?
Marcel glanced at him like he was staring at an idiot. He sneered, saying, "You can show yourself out. We are done here."
Luis yelled after him, asking, "So are you going to do it or not?"
Marcel replied, "I will call him," his voice calm and deliberate. The him he was referring to was their so-called father.
Luis's face turned ugly like he had swallowed shit. Despite being older than Marcel, he was treated like air when it came to business. It was as though he were unqualified to stand next to Marcel. His father had even gone as far as to warn him not to provoke Marcel, but the humiliation and jealousy burned fiercely inside of him. He wanted to skin that face so badly and hang it on his wall.
He stood up and kicked the chair hard, sending it flying across the room. With a cold snort, he stormed out, his men trailing behind him.
Meanwhile, Marcel entered his office; his limp more pronounced now that the adrenaline had worn off. The painful expression he had suppressed finally showed. He tightened his jaw and creased his brow, fighting the urge to cry out.
Using the furniture as a crutch, he stumbled to the desk and rummaged through his things. The more he looked, the more frustrated he became. He scattered the papers, the pens fell to the floor, and his desk ornaments were knocked over. He groaned intermittently as he searched for the pain pills he hadn't even thought of for months.
Archie, who had stayed behind to make sure the uninvited guests were gone, rushed in. When he saw the chaotic scene, he yelled, "Boss!"
Marcel acted like he hadn't heard him call him. He continued tossing things, opening and closing drawers harshly. Archie hurried to stop him. He grabbed Marcel's wrist and said, "Let me help you... let me look for them."
Marcel stopped moving and slumped into the leather chair. He closed his eyes as Archie searched for the pills. Marcel was enduring silently. If it weren't for his brows that were knitted together and his uneven breathing, one wouldn't think he was enduring so much pain. Archie, knowing Marcel very well, found the pills and took out two. He handed them to him.
Marcel looked at the two yellow pills and whispered, "Thank you," as he took them.
Archie fetched a cup of water from the cooler, but when he brought it to him, Marcel had already swallowed the pills dry. Archie grimaced as he asked, "Isn't it bitter?" Marcel shook his head as he stretched out his hand. Archie placed the cup in his hand, and Marcel drank it slowly.
Archie's gaze lingered on his leg. He was so angry with that bastard Lance. He couldn't wait to find him and put a sack over his head before beating the brakes out of him. After a long while, he asked, "Is it better?" It wasn't better at all, but Marcel didn't want him to worry, so he just nodded.
Archie heaved a sigh of relief. He said, "I will get you something to eat. Is there anything in particular that you want?"
Marcel pulled out his wallet from underneath a stack of papers. He handed Archie his card and said, "Get everyone something and bring me whatever."
Archie nodded. He was used to this routine. "If the pain gets worse, call me. I will drag Doc out of bed if I have to." He hummed in agreement, his voice low. Archie hesitated, reluctant to leave, but finally he opened the door and left.
Marcel placed his leg on the ottoman and sank deeper into his chair. He kept his eyes closed, trying so hard to dissociate from the excruciating pain. He forced his mind to drift elsewhere. He was no longer a member of the Verrochi family. To be frank, he was never a part of that family.
Since the day they took him from his mother's arms as a toddler and delivered him to the Verrochi family home, he was treated poorly. He was the direct result of his father's infidelity, and being there reminded everyone of Rossario's transgressions.
He was worthless in his father's eyes. Marcel's existence ruined the image of a loving husband and father that he had painted to the world. He didn't even allow Marcel to call him 'father.' He was forbidden to say it, and the one time he did, his father beat him mercilessly.
For years, he lived in the cottage within the estate but far away from the mansion. He was raised by nannies until he was seven. He was to stay in the cottage to spare the Madam heartache from seeing her husband and mistress's spawn. If not for this grandfather's insistence on keeping him, he would have been dead a long time ago.
His grandfather's intentions weren't pure in the slightest. His father, Rossario Verrochi, was just like Luis. He was raised like a fragile egg and given whatever he wanted. He was also incapable of running the family business. That's when he came into the picture. He was the perfect weapon to use because of his blood ties. He just had to be molded to perfection.
Marcel had never wanted to be drained of his lifeblood just to feed them. Thus, he did everything in his power to sever ties. For years, he thought he was free from them. Free from their abuse, but the truth was, he would never be free. They would always come looking for him and drag him into their schemes. They had used up all their leverage, hence they desperately brought out his mother's ashes. This was the last time; there would never be a next.