Marcella finally connected with her son on the call after two days of trying.
"Son, where have you gone? Do you know how worried I was? How could you do this to me?" Marcella complained, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
Diego, seated in a dimly lit room, slowly swirled the alcohol in his glass before answering. "Mom, don't be worried for me. I'm not a kid, and I can take care of myself."
"I'm your mother. I can't stop but worry for you," Marcella insisted, her voice trembling with fear. "Your father is still upset with Frida too, but I managed to convince him to keep her home for now. I will do everything I can to bring you back."
"No, Mom. I am no longer interested in coming back to that house," Diego stated firmly, finally rising to his feet. He drained the last of his drink and walked out onto the balcony to breathe in the cool night air. "Dad questioned my capabilities. I will show him what I can do for real, without his shadow or interference."
"Diego, but—"
