like an old friend that he hasn't seen since he's left school. They trade jokes, chortle about his mishap and simply indulge in each other's warm presence. It makes me sick to the core.

Hugo's eyes rake over me. He's not interested in Dimitri and their new business investment, he's completely riveted about me. How long has it been? 14 years to break this silly game we've been playing.

He's tanner than I last remember, the Spanish sun has baked him golden but his grey eyes are more intense and criticising than ever. The beards gone away too, his black hair is streaked with grey and his face stretched with wrinkles. When he smiles and frowns, they grow prominent over his dimpled cheeks and forehead.

Unconsciously I'm squeezing Dimitri's hand tighter underneath the table, he doesn't acknowledge it one bit. Dimitri orders for me, he thinks he knows exactly what I like. He's so fucking wrong because he doesn't realise the big fat elephant in the room.

Hugo finally remarks, his attention not once dropping away from me. "No puedo creer que nos encontremos así." He can't believe we're meeting like this? Well, I can. "Look at how beautiful you are," I don't share much with Hugo anymore, expect half of his DNA and the anger. Yes, the anger amplifies the longer I hold my gaze with his.

The anger spikes in me sharp and hot. It erupts and bursts into tiny shards until my knuckles are turning white. "My husband speaks Spanish fluently too," I state, a lame attempt to tell him to shut up. He understands it immediately. Don't bait yourself out, dear Papa.

His wicked tips tug with a humoured smile, "Cuanto más, mejor," He raises his champagne glass to Dimitri. I play around with my food, I don't have much of an appetite as Hugo and Dimitri holler to the top of their lungs. On a few occasions, I glare at the man I'm supposed to call my father. He's charmed and roped Dimitri in and there's nothing I can do about it.

"So, Isabela," he calls. It's nice to know he hasn't lost his Spanish accent in the city and the affluence of Queen Elizabeth's face. His T's and D's are soft and the R's roll so effortlessly. The vowels shift so lazy and uncomfortably, he's intensely passionate about it. Above all, he's passionate about his business and money. Never his daughter who was neglected by him.

"How is married life?" Better than yours ever was.

I reply with naked honesty. He has the right to know how much better I'm doing without him in my life. "It's fantastic, Hugo." his eyebrow lifts slightly upon the usage of his name. Yes, I'm rocking the boat and what? "I bet you wouldn't know what it feels like. Correct me if I'm wrong but doesn't the Spanish media have you labelled as murder for killing your poor innocent wife?" His playful expression dies out and he's reliving the moment all over again with his lips pressing into a firm line.

Beside me, Dimitri lets out a reprimand. "Bella," he says with gritted teeth, so disappointed in my outlash.

Dimitri's gone red in the face, clearly flustered I've just insulted his new business client. Hugo forces a laugh onto his lips and settles Dimitri down. "No hay problema, Isabela's curious." He meets my eyes again, the tilt of his chin and hands interlocking in front of him – a challenge. "I did not murder her. It was a car accident, Isabela." his voice is so strained and foggy with pain.

It's the pain he's caused. Bile rises to my throat, it burns away and I can feel my eyes beginning to prick with tears. Look at him, merely sitting in front of me for twenty-minutes and he's already made me cry. "Her brakes stopped working, Hugo. You know this. The paparazzi exploited her. She was found dead on the concrete and photographed until her last breath. You could have saved her but choose not too."

Beside me, Dimitri freezes. He goes dead silent but he hasn't released anything yet, he's too trapped in the mystery. "I loved her, Isabela. I loved her," he affirms again with a nod. He's trying to convince me of it too. Liar. "It was just circumstance, her car decided to fail on her. That was not in my control."

The tears are leaking onto my skin now. He didn't save her. "I adored Evangelía, with every last piece of my heart. I'm sorry Isabela, I missed her so much that I was with her on your wedding day. I went and spoke to her."

The anger rolls over, I'm barely paying attention to anything he's saying. "Don't talk about my mother with that filthy mouth of yours."

There's a gasp on the left. Both Hugo and I crane our neck simultaneously, Dimitri's staring at us confused. "Mother?" He staggers with horror. "Hugo Antolin is your father?" his mouth swung open and piercing into me.

"Yes son, she's my daughter. Isabella Rosaline Antolin."

Dimitri's expression dies down. It goes blank and it's unreadable. Then it comes crashing down with him. I can almost see the dots being connected above his head, he's finally piecing two and two together. He wipes a hand over his face, distress budding over his eyes. "I thought your father was dead too. Your Abuela didn't have any photographs of him in the house." No, but I wish it was him. Why couldn't it have been him in the car instead of Evangelía?

"Dead?" Hugo barks a hefty cackle - the sound dams of the walls of the booth. "I'm not dead, Isabela didn't want to acknowledge my existence. Hm, Abuela huh? How is Rosaline anyway?"

"She was a better father than you ever were to me."

Dimitri gulps something down, his eyebrows beginning to dent in the middle. He flicks a gaze to me– intense and so utterly disappointed. "Why didn't you tell me that Hugo's your father, Bella?"

Shame engulfs me, but I don't have time to process it because I'm glowering at Hugo. I ignore the comment Dimitri's made because we can always discuss my terrible decisions later. We can't however discuss why Hugo chose to be a terrible father.

Hugo picks his opportunity carefully and jabs a knife straight into my heart without mercy. "¿Por qué no le dijiste, Isabela?" Why didn't you tell him, Isabela?

I didn't tell him because I thought he wouldn't understand. I didn't tell him because I have no interest in re-living the past, Hugo Antolin is as good as dead. "Mi padre murió el mismo día que mi madre." I declare sharply, making sure he gets it into his thick skull. He died the same day, Mama died.

The conversation switches to Spanish in a vivid pulse. It's heated, sharp and hot. Shot after shot, so much malice and wrath that has been bubbling underneath the surface for years.

"You were emotionally abusive. Every single day in that marriage of yours, you tortured her and had the media spinning lies about her. She didn't steal an ounce of your property when you never signed the NDA. Then there was Nana who only saw me as incompetent because my face resembled Mama's and after Mama, she took every chance to bully me and what did you do? Absolutely nothing like the shallow pathetic man you are. Then you sent me away to London back to Abuela out of the blue?!"

"I did it to protect you. I didn't want you ending up like your mother. I sent you away to Rosaline because I couldn't stand the abuse she was throwing at you and–"

"I don't need your excuses. I'm over them." This is not an apology for the toxic environment I was bread in. Regardless, Hugo has never apologised for a single thing in his life. Even if he was too apologise today, I'm far over it and don't need it. He's 14 years too late. Shot after shot. Heat is nipping my body tightly and I can't rub my eyes from seeing past the red. Hugo deserves hell.

Hugo finally sighs a languid breath, throwing in the towel. "I don't want to argue with you, mi flor. The purpose of tonight was to celebrate your husband's success at Asterio Industries and for us to repair our relationship."

As a matter of fact, I don't care if he's friends with Dimitri. As long as my husband keeps him far away from me, I have no reason to be meddling in Asterio Industries' affairs. However, I will not let some wrinkly troll from my past step all over me.

"I'm not interested." I snap.

Dimitri finally finds his voice after being a silent overlooker. "Bells, I think you should hear him out." I stagger with a hard glare. Who's side is he on?! Dimitri's gaze is simply tender. He's the only person anchoring me down in this chaos.

Hugo continues, pleading as ever. "I'm not the reason your Mama died. It was an accident, mi hija. A terrible one and I miss her every day. I tried and I tried to repair it but you were so certain that you wanted to sever ties with me." Silence on my behalf and I scoff away. Dimitri's staring at me with pleading eyes. Hugo doesn't take the hint. He never took the hint. "You look exactly like your mother. You have her eyes and hair. You have her anger too, it settles on your brows."

I know exactly what he's trying to do. He did it so much as a child, coaxing and buttering me up reminding me of how much I - his cariño - reminded him of his dead wife. Bile rises to the back of my throat.

I lift off the leather and stand, turning away and declaring, "I want to leave, Dimitri."

Hugo passes Dimitri a look. They're having a silent conversation and for a minute, dread wells inside me that Dimitri might actually listen to him.

He does the unexpected and stands planting his cold hands into mine. "I think this is over, Hugo. My wife wants to leave." A sharp disconcerted flare strikes across his face.

"Isabela, here me out."

So I let it out with tears streaming down my face. "You know what makes me really sad, Papa? It's the fact you claim to love her but still inflicted so much emotional abuse on her every day. You called her the meanest of things, said she couldn't talk to other men who were her co-workers. You and your family isolated her from Abuela. Despite it all, she loved you. The least you can do now is spare her soul and leave her the hell alone. She deserves that, Hugo."

With that hanging in the air, I push past Dimitri. "Bella! Por favor," I pause, I don't know why but my body still heeds to all his commands. Even after years. "If you ever want to come back and fix this, I'll be here waiting. You have every right to be angry at me, just please come back soon." I pace down the aisle and don't turn back. I need air to breathe. Dimitri mutters a quick word to his wretched father-in-law and staggers after me.