8. War just began

"Kelan, please focus here!"

"May I have a photo with you?"

"Great actor. Great actor."

The sounds of excitement reverberated, with fans lining the red carpet, eagerly reaching out for a moment with me. The nickname had stuck after a particularly intense romantic scene in my debut film. I stood casually, hands in my pockets, a smile on my face, shielding my eyes behind sunglasses. The premiere of my latest action-adventure film was poised to dominate the box office.

A friend in the police force, a devoted fan of mine, had shared details about the murder. While I suspected that the detective's loyalty was influenced by my father's connections, our conversations had never crossed inappropriate boundaries. Over drinks at a strip club, Shane had provided some basic information: a quick hit, shots fired from a black Cadillac through an open window. The perpetrators lacked courage.

Instead of reveling in champagne, I found myself consumed by self-pity and anger. Although I had once idolized my father, my admiration had turned sour. The news was unsettling. I was unaware of the extent of Ernesto's involvement with his family, but I suspected that he held more knowledge than what the media had revealed. Everyone had secrets.

As another limousine pulled up, I maintained a fake smile to deflect the probing gazes of the press, searching for any sign of weakness or scandal. The ties to my family had been established after my first major hit, but that was old news. For now. If my father's revelations were accurate, a scandalous exposé loomed on the horizon. Maybe Ricardo was onto something. I couldn't escape; I stayed put as the limousine door swung open, revealing a stunning blonde who acknowledged the ecstatic crowd.

The screams persisted, anticipating the arrival of the fantasy couple, our on-screen romance fulfilling the desires of the audience. I scoffed at the notion. Trudy's princess-like demeanor was barely tolerable, in dire need of correction. She embodied a true prima donna, but Ernesto insisted that she was the only actress suitable for the role.

"Looks like our star has arrived," Ernesto commented, but I wasn't in the mood for his usual nonsense. We had clashed too many times, and tonight, I had no patience for it. I was aware of his background, but I chose not to hold it against him, just as he did with me. We simply couldn't stand each other. Some might call it a longstanding feud.

I wouldn't reveal that I knew about his father's impending betrayal. Sharing that information wouldn't benefit me and could potentially tip off our enemies. Growing up in a tightly guarded family, I had learned all about being a prisoner in luxurious confinement, much like my mother—an accessory on my father's arm, a trophy he had pursued and won. My birth hadn't been any different; he had expected more children, and when my mother couldn't fulfill that expectation, he directed his disappointment towards his only son.

"After tonight, we won't have to see each other again, Ernesto. Trust me, I have no desire to waste my time with a useless director." My words cut through the charged atmosphere, my tone devoid of emotion as I scrutinized Ernesto's eyes. Behind his arrogant facade, he concealed any knowledge of his father's ominous plans.

"You better honor every press conference and appearance, or I'll make sure you're discredited," Ernesto hissed under his breath.

I turned to face him directly, shaking my head in disdain. "Threats now, Ernesto? That's interesting, coming from you." The tension escalated, and I couldn't help but notice the tightening of his fist, as if ready to throw a punch. Engaging in a physical altercation would undoubtedly make headlines, but he seemed to forget that I was a skilled actor.

"Promises, my friend," Ernesto retorted.

"Hey, hold on, guys." Drake Collier, my agent, intervened, his frustration evident. Stepping in, he glared at both of us. "We're in front of about two hundred reporters. Do you really want to act like five-year-olds?" Drake was always the voice of reason.

Narrowing my eyes, I anticipated Ernesto backing down. The confrontation was already too intense, even for him. My instincts told me he was deeply involved in the potential takeover.

"Besides," Drake continued, "you have an urgent phone call, Kelan."

"I don't want to be interrupted. Just take a message," I snapped, fueled by the smug expression on Ernesto's face.

Drake grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the brewing conflict. "You'll want to take this call. They couldn't reach you, so they tracked me down." Urgency dripped from his words.

Intentionally keeping my phone switched off, I longed for an uninterrupted evening. However, Drake's persistence forced me to reluctantly snatch the phone from his grasp, irritated by the intrusion. The clamor behind me continued, applause serving as my constant companion. "Yes?"

"Is this..." The voice on the other end was distorted.

"Kelan! Kelan!"

The screams persisted, compelling me to move closer to the building. "What did you say? Speak up."

"Is this Victor Racini?"

My instinct was to end the call right then and there. "Who is this exactly? You have two seconds before I hang up."

"This is Dr. Wallace Tucker from University Hospital. I regret to inform you that your father has been involved in an... accident."

Those precise words had been spoken to me previously, uttered with the same hesitancy on the day my mother was brutally murdered. Time seemed to slow down as the doctor's words reverberated in my ears. In that moment, I turned my gaze towards Ernesto, our eyes locking.

A new war had just begun.

As the phone call lingered in the air, a chill crept down my spine. The applause from the red carpet felt distant, a surreal soundtrack to the unfolding drama. I pushed myself to refocus on Dr. Tucker's voice.

"I understand that this is difficult to process, Mr. Racini. Your father is currently in critical condition. We advise you to come to the hospital as soon as possible."

Critical condition. The words echoed in my mind, evoking memories of past losses, and a wave of emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Ernesto's arrogant demeanor faded into the background as the gravity of the situation took hold.

"Mr. Racini, are you still there?" Dr. Tucker's voice snapped me back to the present.

"Yes, I'm here. I'll be there shortly," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.

Ending the call, I turned to face Ernesto, a newfound understanding reflected in his eyes. The petty conflicts between us suddenly seemed inconsequential compared to the family crisis unfolding before us. Drake, still at my side, wore a genuinely concerned expression.

"Family comes first," he said softly, a rare moment of sincerity breaking through his typically pragmatic nature.

I nodded, and without another word, we maneuvered through the bustling crowd, leaving behind the glitz and glamour of the premiere for the harsh reality awaiting us at the hospital. The war had just begun, but it was a different battle than I had anticipated, and the lines between adversaries and allies were more blurred than ever.