Everything has failed. The estate has been sliding into the red for the past three years, ever since Rodrigo Cabrera started his competing outfit here in Cordoba. We approached Cabrera and he bought the debt. Now he’s calling in the loans. If we don’t pay up by the end of next month, we will be thrown out of our home.’
Emiliano realised his jaw was clenched so tight he had to force it apart to speak. ‘How can that be? Cabrera doesn’t know the first thing about horse breeding. The last I heard he was dabbling in real estate. Besides, Castillo is the foremost polo-training and horse-breeding establishment in South America. How can you be on the brink of bankruptcy?’ he demanded.
His mother’s colour receded and her fingers twisted the white lace handkerchief in her hand. ‘Watch your tone, young man.’
Emiliano inhaled sharply, stopped the sharper words that threatened to spill and chose his words carefully. ‘Explain to me how these circumstances have occurred.’
His father shrugged. ‘You are a man of business...you know how these things go. A few bad investments here and there...’
Emiliano shook his head. ‘Matias was...is...a shrewd businessman. He would never have let things slide to the point of bankruptcy without mitigating the losses or finding a way to reverse the business’s fortunes. At the very least, he would’ve told me...’ He stopped when his parents exchanged another glance. ‘I think you should tell me what’s really going on. I’m assuming you asked me here because you need my help?’
Pride flared in his father’s eyes for a blinding moment before he glanced away and nodded. ‘Sí.’ The word was one Emiliano was sure he didn’t want to utter.
‘Then let’s have it.’
They remained stoically silent for several heartbeats before his father rose. He strode to a cabinet on the far side of the room, poured himself another drink and returned to his chair. Setting the glass down, he picked up a tablet Emiliano hadn’t spotted before and activated it.
‘Your brother left a message for you. Perhaps it would explain things better.’
He frowned. ‘A message? How? Matias is in a coma.’
Valentina’s lips compressed, distress marring her features for a brief second. ‘You don’t need to remind us. He recorded it before his brain operation, once the doctors gave him the possible prognosis.’
Emiliano couldn’t fault the pain in her voice or the sadness in her eyes. And, not for the first time in his life, he wondered why that depth of feeling for his brother had never spilt over for him.
Pushing the fruitless thought aside, he focused on the present. On what he could control.
‘That was two months ago. Why are you only telling me about this message now?’
‘We didn’t think it would be needed before now.’
‘And by it, you mean me?’
His mother shrugged. Knowing the iron control he’d locked down on his feelings where his parents were concerned was in danger of breaking free and exploding, he jerked to his feet. Crossing the room to his father, he held out his hand for the tablet.
Benito handed it over.
Seeing his brother’s face frozen on the screen, the bandage around his head and the stark hospital furniture and machines around him, Emiliano felt his breath strangle in his chest. Matias was the one person who hadn’t dismissed him for being born second. His brother’s support was the primary reason Emiliano had broken away from the glaringly apathetic environment into which he’d been born. He knew deep down that he would’ve made it, no matter what, but Matias’s unwavering encouragement had bolstered him in the early, daunting years when he’d been floundering alone on the other side of the world.
He stemmed the tremor moving through him as his gaze moved over his brother’s pale, gaunt face. Returning to his seat, he pressed the play button.
The message was ten minutes long.
With each second of footage that passed, with each word his brother uttered, Emiliano sank further into shock and disbelief. When it was over, he lifted his gaze and met equal stares that were now less indifferent and more...concerned.
‘Are you... Is this for real?’ he demanded.
‘You’re hearing the words from your brother’s lips and still you doubt it?’ his father asked, a trace of shame lacing his stiff demeanour.
‘I don’t doubt what Matias is saying. I’m questioning whether you truly gambled away millions that you knew the company couldn’t afford!’
His father slammed his hand on the table. ‘Castillo is my company!’
‘It’s also Matias’s birthright! At least, that’s what you drummed into him from the day he was born, was it not? Wasn’t that the reason he all but broke his back to make it a success? Because you pressured him to succeed at all costs?’
‘I am no tyrant. What he did for Castillo, he did willingly.’
Emiliano barely managed to bite back the swear word that hovered on his tongue. ‘And for that you repay him by frittering away the profits behind his back?’
‘The deal we made with Cabrera was supposed to be a sure thing.’
‘A sure thing? You were duped by a man who spotted an easy score a mile away.’ He stared down at the screen, still unable to believe the tale Matias had told. Bankruptcy. Destitution for his parents. Absurd promises made. Regret that the burden now fell on Emiliano’s shoulders.
The naked plea in his brother’s eyes and solemn tone not to let the family down.
That last entreaty, more than anything else, was what kept Emiliano from walking out the door in that moment. Even though what Matias was asking of him—the request to honour the deal his parents had struck with Rodrigo Cabrera—was so ludicrous, he wondered why he wasn’t laughing his head off.
Because every single word was true. He could tell just from looking into his parents’ eyes.
‘You really are serious, aren’t you? You struck this bargain that Matias would marry Cabrera’s daughter if the deal went south and the loans became due?’ he rasped with renewed disbelief. ‘Isn’t she still a child?’
A brief memory of a little girl in pigtails chasing around the ranch during family visits flitted through his mind. Matias, as usual, had been patient and caring with Graciela Cabrera, but Emiliano, fully immersed in dreams of escape, could barely remember her, save for a few exchanges at the dinner table.
‘She’s twenty-three years old,’ his mother supplied. ‘She may have had a few wild escapades that have left her parents with more grey hairs than they wish, but she is more mature now. Matias was her favourite, of course, but she remembers you fondly—’
‘I don’t care how she remembers me. What I care about is that none of this set-up rang any alarm bells for you!’ He seethed, unwilling to rise to the subtle dig. ‘From a supposed family friend!’
For the first time, his father had the grace to look embarrassed. But the expression didn’t last long. He regrouped, as was the Castillo way. ‘We are where we are, Emiliano. The burden of our family’s fortunes now rests with you. And don’t bother taking out your chequebook. Cabrera has made it clear he wants only one thing. You either marry Graciela Cabrera or you can sit back and watch your mother and me lose everything.’
SIENNA NEWMAN STEPPED out of the shower, finished drying off and eased her black hair from the tight bun it’d been in all day. Swiping her hand across the steamed-up vanity mirror, she couldn’t resist smiling at herself.
Sister Margaret from the orphanage where Sienna had spent most of her childhood had