Post by mvfitnessqueen on Jun 3, 2023 20:35:45 GMT -5
A WEEKEND GETAWAY AND THE TRUTH?
(OFF-CAMERA)
(All Conversations between family members are in Catalan but written in English)
(Mari and Limo Driver Conversations are in Spanish and written in English.)
It was a warm Spring day in the capital of Catalonia, the city of Barcelona. The city was alive with energy as it was down the streets; as a limo was driving down the city streets, heading past all the busy shops along it; inside the limo was a native of the city, none other than the founder of VilaróFitness and the creator of the VilaróSystem, Marisol Vilaró who was sitting on a nice leather chair with one leg crossed over the other. Cladded in an outfit from Alexnder Mcqueen consisting of a yellow dress, black ankle strap sandals, a matching handbag, and oversized sunglasses. Was she overdressed for this? Maybe? But Marisol had developed a love of fashion over the last two years she's been in the States and a love of the finer things of life she could now afford. Her nails are recently done with a yellow nail posh on them. Her hair was neatly done and curled; the Fitness Guru looked at her phone, seeing messages; she hadn't bothered to answer them. She needed to focus on this trip and find the truth of her life and who she was. It was the first time she had been home since she found out the news of her birth, who her biological dad was, who he was, and how he kept it from her. Only a couple of days after her appearance on Spilling The Tea with Natalie Rivera, the Uprising audience saw her completely break down and cry, unable to handle the questions being posed to her about her father. Several messages were from her remaining clients; one was Natalie, which Mari responded to.
Marisol Vilaró via Text: Hey, I am fine. I can't make it for a follow-up episode right now. But thanks for checking up on me.
Marisol shook her head and was happy to have someone check up on her, but she didn't feel up to being on any more Uprising programming for a minute. Her past was exposed in front of the entire world. The ordinarily confident Catalonian was shaken to her core; she could hear all the voices.
"I am tired of the drama!" Cliff Morgan
"You can take your shitty products and politics elsewhere." Jace Parker Davidson.
"I am a Pitful fuck up, and they tried to ruin it with their success and Garnola Bars" Reno, Nevada.
"What's happening to her might be karma." Summer Page
Along with thousands of others, the voices came back more frequently; the more they came back, the more she struggled to hold it together. She ended the most dominant group in Uprising history with a pen stroke, which wasn't enough to keep the voices at bay; she was set to open up a new gym chain in North America, VilaróFit, as well as the VilaróWearable, which had been on backorder for months now as pre orderers ramped up. Her business success wasn't enough to keep her together, but she tried her hardest daily. After a few moments, she felt her head start to hurt, and she grabbed the drink she had in front of her, a glass of Sangria. She took a sip, letting it coat the back of her throat, before placing it back down. It helped slightly to num the voices for now. Soon she saw she had a new message from Yelena Gorgo, her brand new business partner and the one who had lent her the attorney who had drafted the documents to dissolve The One Percent.
Yelena Gorgo via Text: Hello, Marisol; how is it made to Barcelona okay? If you need anything, let me know.
Marisol immediately replied to the message as soon as she saw it.
Marisol Vilaró via Text: Hey, Yelena, thank you for everything you have done for me. I just needed to take care of this myself, I needed to know if my mom knew the truth, and I needed to talk to the rest of my family.
After a few moments, a reply would come back to Marisol.
Yelena Gorgo Via Text: I understand; just let me know how it goes, will you?
Marisol Vilaró via Text: I will, and thank you.
Marisol put her phone down, and she started to see the outskirts of the city where she had grown up; the same trees she saw as a little girl were lined up in a row, and the identical houses, some of them run down from years of disrepair, were still there. This gave her a nervous feeling in her gut; she was about to be back after a year; however, everything had completely changed in her life from that point to now. As she soon saw the street she grew up coming into view, the limo turned onto it; when that occurred, thoughts from her childhood came back from time spent in her house with her mom, her sister, and her brothers, the time she spent cheering on Barcelona when the games would come on with her father. However, memories also came back from fights with her dad and older siblings. Marisol was always different; she had a drive to succeed while they were content with their life in Barcelona; Marisol had sought better for herself; she sought and strove to be the best she could be, and failure was not something she accepted. Her parents couldn't understand her; her mom always, however, was there to smooth it all over whenever these fights would occur between the rest of the family and Marisol. Soon the limo would arrive in front of the old blue house where she had grown up in her parent's house, her mother and the man who raised her as her father. The limo stopped as the driver came out and opened the door for Miss Vilaro, who stepped out. Was this an audacious and flamboyant entrance for a simple family gathering? Yes, but it felt good in Marisol's mind to arrive in such a way to show how far she had come from her humble upbringing. The young Catalonian made her way up the house, her heels moving against the cobblestone leading to the steps toward the front door; she looked around the house and saw four other cars there; her siblings had already arrived. She knocked on the door slowly, and all of a sudden, answering the door was the man she had known her whole life as her dad—that man's name was Juan Vilaró. He looked up at her and moved to hug her, which she accepted.
Marisol Vilaró: Hey, Dad, how is everything?
They stopped hugging; the look in his eyes told Marisol the story that he had heard what happened; how could he, not they had been keeping eyes on everything involving their daughter; its how they knew about her and Cliff falling apart and the situation with Ricky Roinconspicuouslymotioned for her to come inside as the door shuts behind them they sit at the kitchen table, just the two of them, no mom, none of her other siblings just her and the man who had raised her. Soon in a soft tone, he said.
Juan Vilaró: It has been rough. I will not lie; I found out the same way you did. It hurts to find out that one of my kids, my youngest isn't mine at all. That your dad is a Dutch man that lives in Reno now? Like how did I miss the signs?
Marisol eyed Juan; even though he did a way better job of hiding it, he was just as big of an emotional mess on the inside as she was. She keeps her gaze on him before speaking back to him.
Marisol Vilaró: Trust me, I know, this is insane, like the whole world's been turned upside down in just the last few months. So I can imagine what you feel; how has it been? Have you and Mom talked about it?
Juan looked up right into the woman; as he said slowly, he rose to his daughter's eyes.
Juan Vilaró: No, we have had a few conversations but nothing substantial, and it always breaks into an argument. I just I can't deal with that, you know? Just want to be able to have a decent conversation about it.
Marisol Vilaró: I haven't been sure about this, but that is part of why I came here to get answers. I feel that I deserve them, you know? We both do. Anyway, I see the cars here. Where is everyone?
Juan cleared his throat before speaking.
Juan Vilaró: They went for a walk around the neighborhood; they just left; they should be back soon. In a way, this kind of makes sense. Would you like anything to drink?
Marisol's eyebrow lifted as she said quizically.
Marisol Vilaró: No, thank you, I am fine. What do you mean? How could this make any sense at all?
Juan sighs loudly before speaking again.
Juan Vilaró: You were always difficult; for lack of a better word, it was hard to understand you and how you saw things. Even now, did you need to take a limo here? I don't need everyone gawking all around here trying to snoop.
Marisol couldn't help but roll her eyes out of all the times to start talking about something petty like a limo arrival he chose now of all times. The Catalonian tapped her foot impatiently against the floor as he continued on.
Juan Vilaró: You know I like quiet, and a limo arrival will attract people to see; I know you're well known, but you could have arrived more quietly, you know? That is all I am saying. I am glad to see you, but I sometimes don't understand your thinking. Like you want the whole world to follow your every move.
Marisol Vilaró: No one is going to follow me! Like damn, Dad, you know you want to have an actual conversation or lecture me?! No offense, I have been through hell the last month and a half of my life!
Marisol said loudly; Mr. Vilaró leaned back in his chair; Marisol's skin was starting to glow her breathing was heavier than before. However, Juan, in general, remands eyes locked onto the eyes of The Fitness Guru.
Juan Vilaró: That isn't the point of this; the point is… Never mind, you aren't going to listen anyway.
Marisol Vilaró: What is the point then?! I get it. Werewe're going through the same thing. You'd think we'd be able to get concrete answers, but no, we can't, and instead of talking about how we can do that, we're yelling about this?! It's always this way.
Juan shook his head at Marisol, whose temper was rising. Juan's was starting. He knew what was happening, the same thing that always happened when the two had a discussion; one or the other would say something, and it'd turn into an argument.
Juan Vilaró: Because you refuse to listen, you're always right, and it's always that; you always think you know more than everyone else around you, and your needs are the most important, but the world doesn't revolve around you. I have always tried to do my best with you.
Marisol Vilaró: Tried your best, then how come it always an argument? How come it's one thing than another like you sit there and judge me for how I came here when all I wanted was to talk to both of you about what I found out and what obviously you found out of the blue. But instead of that, it turns into one of these arguments again!
Juan Vilaró: Because you fail to see what your actions do, you fail to see these things! You might not be my daughter, but I love you all. I just can't stand to see what's happened or what the money has done to you.
Marisol Vilaró: THE MONEY?!
Marisol screamed out, standing up, which caused Juan to stand up all the same; her lip was quivering, her emotions had always run hot, and she was taking expectation to what was just said about her. Her eyes had tears starting to form, and her voice was shaky at first, but she managed to hold it together as she spoke.
Marisol Vilaró: No, it hasn't changed me! If anything, it's helped me not have to worry about the things mom had to worry about because you kept losing your job?! How many times did we almost lose this place one time? No, TWICE in like two years! She had to talk to your boss twice because you had too much stupid pride.
Juan Vilaró: THAT'S ENOUGH!
Juan shouted out as the door soon unlocked, and Mrs. Vilaró walked in though she was alone as she shook her head at her youngest child and her husband. As she shouted.
Mrs. Vilaró: I could hear you both from the walls; if anything is going to get the attention of people around here, it isn't Marisol's limo arrival. It's your shouting. Marisol, nice to see you; be too long. I figure I know why you have come here, though.
Marisol looked directly at her mom as she said.
Marisol Vilaró: I want to know how and why I was never told about this? Did you know?
Juan nodded silently while still fuming at the argument; nonetheless, he wanted the same answers Marisol did. Eventually, he spoke up with a sigh in an almost pleading tone.
Juan Vilaró: It's something we both need to know, Maria.
The short older woman paused for a minute, looking at the youngest daughter, then back at her husband after a few moments. She spoke slowly and in a calm tone.
Maria Vilaró: Okay, the thing is, I never knew who exactly your father was, Mari. I always assumed it was Juan, but we separated for a small period, I took two of your siblings, and the other two stayed with your father here. It was during the time I met him, and we had a one-night stand. Still, as all things go with him, he left soon after his career took him elsewhere, but then a couple of weeks later, and Juan got back together, and I moved back out of your aunt's house and to here, and then a little after that I found out I was pregnant with you Mari.
Juan Vilaró: So you did, but you told me you didn't do anything during that time, Maria?
Maria Vilaró: Well, we were separated at that time, but I didn't know how to say it, and that there could be a chance of Marisol not being your daughter, that isn't an easy thing to tell someone, especially someone you loved, and have been married for over thirty years Juan!
Maria's eyes started to water, with the emotions returning to her, as Marisol eyed both of them, unsure what to think. While she and her dad had a long argument, they had the same concerns, and soon the CEO of Vilaró Fitness spoke.
Marisol Vilaró: What the hell? Really? Again there could have been a chance. Is that why you never wanted me to be a manager or sponsor clients in Profesional Wrestling? Or hell, why you didn't want me to head to the United States? Or do something more with my life than what everyone else is doing? I wanted to make something more of myself, and I did just that. I built a company on my own; I had succeeded as a manager, hell, even as a wrestler when everyone thought I couldn't do it.
Maria Vilaró: I know, but I hate what it's done to you and now what it is doing to our family, face it, you were targeted because of your biological father. He wouldn't want you to be targeted over him, why he kept it secret likely, and why I did as well. But yes, you have a right to be angry but know I did it for this family.
Marisol couldn't believe it, and neither could Juan, Marisol being the more visibly crushed of the two. While the man she has known as her father her whole life can maintain a level of composure.
Marisol Vilaró: I can't fucking believe you...
Juan and Maria: LANAUGE MARI!
Marisol looked at them, shocked and disgusted; her rage was bolting her tears were now free-flowing, moving down her face like a river. As she stomped out of the house, putting her shoes on before heading back to where the limo awaited her, the driver opened the limo, and she left frustrated and crying her eyes out again. The driver shut the door and entered the driver's side as her parents looked on, concerned for her though there was still evident tension between them as they were standing with some distance between them. As the distraught Fitness Guru said in the back seat, she soon heard the driver's side door pop as he arrived sitting down. In the seat as he looked through the window before speaking to her in Spanish.
Limo Driver: Miss Vilaró, I take it everything didn't go well?
Marisol musters up some of her strength as she says.
Marisol Vilaró: No, and right now, Estaban, I don't want to talk about it, okay? Let's get back to the hotel.
Estaban: Certainly, it's always great having you; when is the next time you will be back here?
Marisol Vilaró: Honestly, remember that part of I don't want to talk? Right now, I just need to relax, okay?
Estaban nodded, knowing better than to keep pushing, allowing the window to slide close, to let Marisol have her privacy. As the woman cried, she took a Sangria prepared for her and took a long sip. However, the words started to come back in her brain.
"This is a fucking nightmare. I know. As much as I want to apologize, I know that's not going to do anything to fix what you're feeling. Go. I won't keep you." Brad Jackson
"Just because you're having a pity party doesn't make you a saint," Jace Parker Davidson.
The Catalonian took another sip as more of the words soon came.
"You ruined this relationship with Summer." Chris Mosh
"Congratulations, it's called being on the other end of the stick. Marisol, you've been enjoying the privileges of life that it needed to humble you." Serenity Holmes
"I did it for this family," Maria Vilaró.
Marisol then took another sip. This time, the voices were silenced; however, a new one was her own.
"Are you going to let them win? Sit here and wallow? That's not Marisol Vilaró. They don't care about you. They think it's all fine and you will be gone forever. Time to take it away all away."
Her thoughts were racing to play in her mind during her time at UPRISING and in the wrestling business, and other times she was doubted and betrayed in her life. As everything played through her mind once again. However, the glint in her eye changed as she looked at the mirror before her, and an evil glint began to appear, staring back at her. The voice once again played in her mind.
"They think they have a new order; they think they ran you off, that you're gone? No, darling, you're just getting started. A better future awaits them, rather they like it or not. Burn away the old to create the new."
At this time, Marisol had an evil smirk taking over her face though some tears were still rolling. This would be the last time she was ever made to cry; when it was time, they would learn that Marisol was always the problem they should have taken seriously.
(OFF-CAMERA)
(All Conversations between family members are in Catalan but written in English)
(Mari and Limo Driver Conversations are in Spanish and written in English.)
It was a warm Spring day in the capital of Catalonia, the city of Barcelona. The city was alive with energy as it was down the streets; as a limo was driving down the city streets, heading past all the busy shops along it; inside the limo was a native of the city, none other than the founder of VilaróFitness and the creator of the VilaróSystem, Marisol Vilaró who was sitting on a nice leather chair with one leg crossed over the other. Cladded in an outfit from Alexnder Mcqueen consisting of a yellow dress, black ankle strap sandals, a matching handbag, and oversized sunglasses. Was she overdressed for this? Maybe? But Marisol had developed a love of fashion over the last two years she's been in the States and a love of the finer things of life she could now afford. Her nails are recently done with a yellow nail posh on them. Her hair was neatly done and curled; the Fitness Guru looked at her phone, seeing messages; she hadn't bothered to answer them. She needed to focus on this trip and find the truth of her life and who she was. It was the first time she had been home since she found out the news of her birth, who her biological dad was, who he was, and how he kept it from her. Only a couple of days after her appearance on Spilling The Tea with Natalie Rivera, the Uprising audience saw her completely break down and cry, unable to handle the questions being posed to her about her father. Several messages were from her remaining clients; one was Natalie, which Mari responded to.
Marisol Vilaró via Text: Hey, I am fine. I can't make it for a follow-up episode right now. But thanks for checking up on me.
Marisol shook her head and was happy to have someone check up on her, but she didn't feel up to being on any more Uprising programming for a minute. Her past was exposed in front of the entire world. The ordinarily confident Catalonian was shaken to her core; she could hear all the voices.
"I am tired of the drama!" Cliff Morgan
"You can take your shitty products and politics elsewhere." Jace Parker Davidson.
"I am a Pitful fuck up, and they tried to ruin it with their success and Garnola Bars" Reno, Nevada.
"What's happening to her might be karma." Summer Page
Along with thousands of others, the voices came back more frequently; the more they came back, the more she struggled to hold it together. She ended the most dominant group in Uprising history with a pen stroke, which wasn't enough to keep the voices at bay; she was set to open up a new gym chain in North America, VilaróFit, as well as the VilaróWearable, which had been on backorder for months now as pre orderers ramped up. Her business success wasn't enough to keep her together, but she tried her hardest daily. After a few moments, she felt her head start to hurt, and she grabbed the drink she had in front of her, a glass of Sangria. She took a sip, letting it coat the back of her throat, before placing it back down. It helped slightly to num the voices for now. Soon she saw she had a new message from Yelena Gorgo, her brand new business partner and the one who had lent her the attorney who had drafted the documents to dissolve The One Percent.
Yelena Gorgo via Text: Hello, Marisol; how is it made to Barcelona okay? If you need anything, let me know.
Marisol immediately replied to the message as soon as she saw it.
Marisol Vilaró via Text: Hey, Yelena, thank you for everything you have done for me. I just needed to take care of this myself, I needed to know if my mom knew the truth, and I needed to talk to the rest of my family.
After a few moments, a reply would come back to Marisol.
Yelena Gorgo Via Text: I understand; just let me know how it goes, will you?
Marisol Vilaró via Text: I will, and thank you.
Marisol put her phone down, and she started to see the outskirts of the city where she had grown up; the same trees she saw as a little girl were lined up in a row, and the identical houses, some of them run down from years of disrepair, were still there. This gave her a nervous feeling in her gut; she was about to be back after a year; however, everything had completely changed in her life from that point to now. As she soon saw the street she grew up coming into view, the limo turned onto it; when that occurred, thoughts from her childhood came back from time spent in her house with her mom, her sister, and her brothers, the time she spent cheering on Barcelona when the games would come on with her father. However, memories also came back from fights with her dad and older siblings. Marisol was always different; she had a drive to succeed while they were content with their life in Barcelona; Marisol had sought better for herself; she sought and strove to be the best she could be, and failure was not something she accepted. Her parents couldn't understand her; her mom always, however, was there to smooth it all over whenever these fights would occur between the rest of the family and Marisol. Soon the limo would arrive in front of the old blue house where she had grown up in her parent's house, her mother and the man who raised her as her father. The limo stopped as the driver came out and opened the door for Miss Vilaro, who stepped out. Was this an audacious and flamboyant entrance for a simple family gathering? Yes, but it felt good in Marisol's mind to arrive in such a way to show how far she had come from her humble upbringing. The young Catalonian made her way up the house, her heels moving against the cobblestone leading to the steps toward the front door; she looked around the house and saw four other cars there; her siblings had already arrived. She knocked on the door slowly, and all of a sudden, answering the door was the man she had known her whole life as her dad—that man's name was Juan Vilaró. He looked up at her and moved to hug her, which she accepted.
Marisol Vilaró: Hey, Dad, how is everything?
They stopped hugging; the look in his eyes told Marisol the story that he had heard what happened; how could he, not they had been keeping eyes on everything involving their daughter; its how they knew about her and Cliff falling apart and the situation with Ricky Roinconspicuouslymotioned for her to come inside as the door shuts behind them they sit at the kitchen table, just the two of them, no mom, none of her other siblings just her and the man who had raised her. Soon in a soft tone, he said.
Juan Vilaró: It has been rough. I will not lie; I found out the same way you did. It hurts to find out that one of my kids, my youngest isn't mine at all. That your dad is a Dutch man that lives in Reno now? Like how did I miss the signs?
Marisol eyed Juan; even though he did a way better job of hiding it, he was just as big of an emotional mess on the inside as she was. She keeps her gaze on him before speaking back to him.
Marisol Vilaró: Trust me, I know, this is insane, like the whole world's been turned upside down in just the last few months. So I can imagine what you feel; how has it been? Have you and Mom talked about it?
Juan looked up right into the woman; as he said slowly, he rose to his daughter's eyes.
Juan Vilaró: No, we have had a few conversations but nothing substantial, and it always breaks into an argument. I just I can't deal with that, you know? Just want to be able to have a decent conversation about it.
Marisol Vilaró: I haven't been sure about this, but that is part of why I came here to get answers. I feel that I deserve them, you know? We both do. Anyway, I see the cars here. Where is everyone?
Juan cleared his throat before speaking.
Juan Vilaró: They went for a walk around the neighborhood; they just left; they should be back soon. In a way, this kind of makes sense. Would you like anything to drink?
Marisol's eyebrow lifted as she said quizically.
Marisol Vilaró: No, thank you, I am fine. What do you mean? How could this make any sense at all?
Juan sighs loudly before speaking again.
Juan Vilaró: You were always difficult; for lack of a better word, it was hard to understand you and how you saw things. Even now, did you need to take a limo here? I don't need everyone gawking all around here trying to snoop.
Marisol couldn't help but roll her eyes out of all the times to start talking about something petty like a limo arrival he chose now of all times. The Catalonian tapped her foot impatiently against the floor as he continued on.
Juan Vilaró: You know I like quiet, and a limo arrival will attract people to see; I know you're well known, but you could have arrived more quietly, you know? That is all I am saying. I am glad to see you, but I sometimes don't understand your thinking. Like you want the whole world to follow your every move.
Marisol Vilaró: No one is going to follow me! Like damn, Dad, you know you want to have an actual conversation or lecture me?! No offense, I have been through hell the last month and a half of my life!
Marisol said loudly; Mr. Vilaró leaned back in his chair; Marisol's skin was starting to glow her breathing was heavier than before. However, Juan, in general, remands eyes locked onto the eyes of The Fitness Guru.
Juan Vilaró: That isn't the point of this; the point is… Never mind, you aren't going to listen anyway.
Marisol Vilaró: What is the point then?! I get it. Werewe're going through the same thing. You'd think we'd be able to get concrete answers, but no, we can't, and instead of talking about how we can do that, we're yelling about this?! It's always this way.
Juan shook his head at Marisol, whose temper was rising. Juan's was starting. He knew what was happening, the same thing that always happened when the two had a discussion; one or the other would say something, and it'd turn into an argument.
Juan Vilaró: Because you refuse to listen, you're always right, and it's always that; you always think you know more than everyone else around you, and your needs are the most important, but the world doesn't revolve around you. I have always tried to do my best with you.
Marisol Vilaró: Tried your best, then how come it always an argument? How come it's one thing than another like you sit there and judge me for how I came here when all I wanted was to talk to both of you about what I found out and what obviously you found out of the blue. But instead of that, it turns into one of these arguments again!
Juan Vilaró: Because you fail to see what your actions do, you fail to see these things! You might not be my daughter, but I love you all. I just can't stand to see what's happened or what the money has done to you.
Marisol Vilaró: THE MONEY?!
Marisol screamed out, standing up, which caused Juan to stand up all the same; her lip was quivering, her emotions had always run hot, and she was taking expectation to what was just said about her. Her eyes had tears starting to form, and her voice was shaky at first, but she managed to hold it together as she spoke.
Marisol Vilaró: No, it hasn't changed me! If anything, it's helped me not have to worry about the things mom had to worry about because you kept losing your job?! How many times did we almost lose this place one time? No, TWICE in like two years! She had to talk to your boss twice because you had too much stupid pride.
Juan Vilaró: THAT'S ENOUGH!
Juan shouted out as the door soon unlocked, and Mrs. Vilaró walked in though she was alone as she shook her head at her youngest child and her husband. As she shouted.
Mrs. Vilaró: I could hear you both from the walls; if anything is going to get the attention of people around here, it isn't Marisol's limo arrival. It's your shouting. Marisol, nice to see you; be too long. I figure I know why you have come here, though.
Marisol looked directly at her mom as she said.
Marisol Vilaró: I want to know how and why I was never told about this? Did you know?
Juan nodded silently while still fuming at the argument; nonetheless, he wanted the same answers Marisol did. Eventually, he spoke up with a sigh in an almost pleading tone.
Juan Vilaró: It's something we both need to know, Maria.
The short older woman paused for a minute, looking at the youngest daughter, then back at her husband after a few moments. She spoke slowly and in a calm tone.
Maria Vilaró: Okay, the thing is, I never knew who exactly your father was, Mari. I always assumed it was Juan, but we separated for a small period, I took two of your siblings, and the other two stayed with your father here. It was during the time I met him, and we had a one-night stand. Still, as all things go with him, he left soon after his career took him elsewhere, but then a couple of weeks later, and Juan got back together, and I moved back out of your aunt's house and to here, and then a little after that I found out I was pregnant with you Mari.
Juan Vilaró: So you did, but you told me you didn't do anything during that time, Maria?
Maria Vilaró: Well, we were separated at that time, but I didn't know how to say it, and that there could be a chance of Marisol not being your daughter, that isn't an easy thing to tell someone, especially someone you loved, and have been married for over thirty years Juan!
Maria's eyes started to water, with the emotions returning to her, as Marisol eyed both of them, unsure what to think. While she and her dad had a long argument, they had the same concerns, and soon the CEO of Vilaró Fitness spoke.
Marisol Vilaró: What the hell? Really? Again there could have been a chance. Is that why you never wanted me to be a manager or sponsor clients in Profesional Wrestling? Or hell, why you didn't want me to head to the United States? Or do something more with my life than what everyone else is doing? I wanted to make something more of myself, and I did just that. I built a company on my own; I had succeeded as a manager, hell, even as a wrestler when everyone thought I couldn't do it.
Maria Vilaró: I know, but I hate what it's done to you and now what it is doing to our family, face it, you were targeted because of your biological father. He wouldn't want you to be targeted over him, why he kept it secret likely, and why I did as well. But yes, you have a right to be angry but know I did it for this family.
Marisol couldn't believe it, and neither could Juan, Marisol being the more visibly crushed of the two. While the man she has known as her father her whole life can maintain a level of composure.
Marisol Vilaró: I can't fucking believe you...
Juan and Maria: LANAUGE MARI!
Marisol looked at them, shocked and disgusted; her rage was bolting her tears were now free-flowing, moving down her face like a river. As she stomped out of the house, putting her shoes on before heading back to where the limo awaited her, the driver opened the limo, and she left frustrated and crying her eyes out again. The driver shut the door and entered the driver's side as her parents looked on, concerned for her though there was still evident tension between them as they were standing with some distance between them. As the distraught Fitness Guru said in the back seat, she soon heard the driver's side door pop as he arrived sitting down. In the seat as he looked through the window before speaking to her in Spanish.
Limo Driver: Miss Vilaró, I take it everything didn't go well?
Marisol musters up some of her strength as she says.
Marisol Vilaró: No, and right now, Estaban, I don't want to talk about it, okay? Let's get back to the hotel.
Estaban: Certainly, it's always great having you; when is the next time you will be back here?
Marisol Vilaró: Honestly, remember that part of I don't want to talk? Right now, I just need to relax, okay?
Estaban nodded, knowing better than to keep pushing, allowing the window to slide close, to let Marisol have her privacy. As the woman cried, she took a Sangria prepared for her and took a long sip. However, the words started to come back in her brain.
"This is a fucking nightmare. I know. As much as I want to apologize, I know that's not going to do anything to fix what you're feeling. Go. I won't keep you." Brad Jackson
"Just because you're having a pity party doesn't make you a saint," Jace Parker Davidson.
The Catalonian took another sip as more of the words soon came.
"You ruined this relationship with Summer." Chris Mosh
"Congratulations, it's called being on the other end of the stick. Marisol, you've been enjoying the privileges of life that it needed to humble you." Serenity Holmes
"I did it for this family," Maria Vilaró.
Marisol then took another sip. This time, the voices were silenced; however, a new one was her own.
"Are you going to let them win? Sit here and wallow? That's not Marisol Vilaró. They don't care about you. They think it's all fine and you will be gone forever. Time to take it away all away."
Her thoughts were racing to play in her mind during her time at UPRISING and in the wrestling business, and other times she was doubted and betrayed in her life. As everything played through her mind once again. However, the glint in her eye changed as she looked at the mirror before her, and an evil glint began to appear, staring back at her. The voice once again played in her mind.
"They think they have a new order; they think they ran you off, that you're gone? No, darling, you're just getting started. A better future awaits them, rather they like it or not. Burn away the old to create the new."
At this time, Marisol had an evil smirk taking over her face though some tears were still rolling. This would be the last time she was ever made to cry; when it was time, they would learn that Marisol was always the problem they should have taken seriously.