C1 No looking back.

*Second-hand toy cars, scattered across the worn-out floor of that house, faded into the background when the short crash of one of them echoed through the room. The emerald-eyed boy dropped them and ran toward the broken window of the patio. He placed his small hands on it, his face a mixture of terror, anguish, and despair when he saw what he saw, until he could do nothing but scream, not knowing what else to do:

“Dad, daddy!”

His father, the light of his eyes, hung suspended like a swing that would never sway again, as if nothing mattered.

A sight he would never forget, just as he would never forget… The laugh masking the tears of the woman who, to this day, still watches over him in her own way…*

At that very moment, after that memory of finding his father lifeless so many years ago, he had decided, without hesitation, to begin his plan to make that woman pay for all the pain. So, without further ado, several red and black Cadillacs were now hidden, discreet witnesses to what was about to happen. Across the wide camping area, she stood with a site employee, gathering all the golf clubs they had used so carelessly moments before. With her elegant sunglasses on, she helped the young man load everything into the back of her impressive red car.

“Thank you very much, here you go,” she said, extending her right hand with a bill in it, which the young man accepted with a nod before walking away. “Very kind of you.”

“With pleasure,” the young man replied from a distance, and everything fell back into a tense silence.

The woman walked around the car, started it up, and at that very moment, something unexpected happened. The man with the piercing gaze who had been hiding rushed toward the moving car, colliding with it and falling flat on the pavement. The vehicle stopped abruptly, and the woman hurried out with an expression of deep concern, approaching the young man on the ground.

“Are you okay? What happened?” she asked with obvious anxiety in her voice as she gently took hold of his arms, despite the young man's groans of pain, who had one hand on his temple. “For God's sake, I swear I didn't see you. Are you...?”

“Is there blood?” he asked, looking at his right hand, trying to identify if there were any signs of what had just happened, while continuing to groan in pain.

“Where?”

“Here.” He pointed to the side of his head.

“No... Did you hit your head there?” she asked as she carefully tilted it slightly, caressing the spot where he had hit it. “No, there’s no blood, you’re okay. Come on, get up.” She urged, holding him by the arms as he continued to groan. “My God, can you please tell me how you’re feeling?” she asked as he got to his feet with some difficulty. “How do you feel?”

“Fine, thank God,” he responded, still touching the side of his head.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I thought I had cracked my skull.”

“No...” With a somewhat nervous laugh, she said as, instinctively, she bent down and picked up the shoe that had ended up a few meters away from them. She handed it to him, he gave her a smile, albeit one mixed with a grimace of pain, and she said, “I don't know how to apologize.” She said as she watched him put the black shoe back on his left foot. “I don't know what happened,” she added with a short, nervous laugh due to the situation. “I was just in such a hurry and…”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I...” His voice lowered, taking on a trembling tone. “I lost my job and I was distracted, thinking about what to do. But don’t mind me, everything has gone wrong for me today and...” He covered his eyes with his right hand, sobbing slightly. He removed his hand, looked at the woman, and said, “Now I’m here, venting to you, and I don’t even know you.” He sobbed, and the woman looked at him silently, but with a compassionate and attentive expression. She handed him a white handkerchief she had taken from one of the back pockets of her sports pants. He accepted it and wiped his cheeks, nose, and eyes with it.

“No, if that’s the case, it’s easy...” She extended her hand. “Dalia Hiddleston.” She introduced herself, and he, still in tears, extended his hand as well and shook hers briefly before letting go. “Besides, we’ve already met, remember? You gave me a very good champagne not long ago when I was playing golf. It was really good, by the way.”

“Well... Then I’m Thomas Mikaelson.”

“Nice to meet you, Thomas… Look… Why… don’t you see… you said you’re running out of work?” The woman said as she returned to her car, taking out her handbag, opening it, and pulling out a small white card with red edges. “Or… I don’t know… Stop by the office.” She handed him the card, and he accepted it. “Yes... We’ll see what we can do…”

“Hiddleston Construction...” Thomas read the card with a brief smile, and she nodded. “But...” He laughed a little. “I don’t know anything about construction.”

“That’s not... Just come by and we’ll talk.”

“Alright...” He smiled at her.

“Well… Excuse me, take care.” She said with a brief smile, turning and walking toward her car.

When she turned her back, the smile on the emerald-eyed man’s face faded like foam in dark waters. But that same smile reappeared the moment the woman looked back at him from a short distance, and she smiled at him in return before looking back at her car, getting in, and driving away. There, as he watched the car disappear into the distance, his smile faded again into an expression of annoyance and hatred. At the same time, he examined the card with its cursive handwriting, uppercase letters, and black ink:

HIDDLESTON CONSTRUCTORS

Everything within your reach.

Dalia Hiddleston.

“Everything will turn out the way it has to. And with my rage, so it shall be.” Looking at the card until he could see no more, he said this with a somewhat severe tone, turned around, and without further ado, after what had just happened, returned to the silence, returned to his resentment...

Without looking back....