Chapter 52
ILIAS
IDGAF – Dua Lipa
Gabriella had suggested he record the call. When he’d asked if it was even legal, she’d just shrugged with a knowing look. If it could help frame that obsessive prick down the line, Ilias didn’t care either way.
Sofia had offered to stay nearby, but he preferred to do it alone. Walking into the garden, he sought the illusion of privacy even if everyone was only a few meters away. All of them well aware of what was about to go down.
He dialed the number—one Sofia had reluctantly given him—and after the second ring, Thomas answered.
“Thomas Whitmore, hello.”
“Hi, Thomas. Do you remember me? I’m Ilias Ríos El Idrissi.”
A pause. Just a second too long. “Who gave you my number?”
“I know what you’re doing in Imsouane.”
“Ah, you want to talk business?”
“I think it’s anything but business with you.”
Thomas scoffed. That smug, dismissive sound made Ilias want to punch him through the phone.
“Since when are you interested in Imsouane? In Morocco in general? Aren’t you a marine biologist?” Ilias asked, voice even.
“I was looking into your background,” Thomas replied coolly.
“Wanted to make sure Sofia was dating someone who deserved her. Turns out your dad was a pathetic excuse for a businessman with debt wrapped around his neck. You paid it off, I’ll give you that.
But then I looked into your little hometown and.
.. it’s charming, very interesting for foreigners in Morocco.
And your dream of turning Azul into a surf retreat center? You gave me a great idea.”
“You don’t give a fuck about surf culture or Morocco.”
“I don’t,” Thomas admitted easily. “But I’m a businessman.”
“Shouldn’t you care about protecting marine ecosystems?
Because what you plan to do in Imsouane is clearly going to affect the environment for sure.
We are not talking about glamping, we are talking about a big infrastructure that's going to destroy the landscape that makes Imsouane as stunning as it is.”
“I have to invest my well-earned money somewhere, and a luxury hotel in Morocco could host conferences, bring revenue, and elevate the place. I’m practically a missionary.”
His voice dripped with arrogance, and Ilias had to clench his jaw to keep calm.
“You’ll destroy a town. A culture you don’t belong to.”
“You took Sofia from me,” Thomas said suddenly. Not defensive. Just wounded, possessive. Like she was a thing.
“Are you for real?” Ilias snapped. “When I met her, she was single. Heartbroken. Healing from the mess you left behind. And all of this has nothing to do with Sofia.”
“I still love her. And I’m going to get her back. I’ll burn everything you have to the ground. I want her with me.”
“You’re a fucking psychopath.”
“I can have whatever I want. I’m a Whitmore. You’re just a surfer.” His tone twisted with disdain. “And I want Sofia. I want to give her back the institute. I’ll do anything to win her again.”
Ilias faltered. Would Sofia want that? The institute was her dream once, something she’d built. Something that had been taken from her.
“Stay away from Azul. Stay away from Sofia,” Ilias said, voice low, deadly calm. “Or I’ll bring you down, Thomas.”
“You don’t scare me,” he laughed. “Enjoy your moment. Because soon, you’ll be irrelevant. And she’ll be mine again.”
The call ended.
Ilias exhaled slowly, the rage burning just under his skin. He stopped the recording and immediately sent it to Gabriella and Sofia, as agreed.
When he returned to the group, Sofia was already listening to it. Her face was tight with disgust, her eyes narrowed. Gone was the sunlit bliss from that morning, when he had worshipped her in the sea. This was a different light—cold, furious, calculated.
“I’m going to kill him,” Antonio muttered from his chair. He’d been listening too, a steely fire in his tired eyes. Ilias couldn’t help but agree with his father-in-law.
“This is actually good,” Gabriella declared. “He’s clearly obsessed. That kind of language? Delusional. It helps. And he confessed to investing in Morocco. If the money came from European funds? We could expose that. Sofi, you can send this to your nerd trio.”
Sofia nodded slowly, mind already moving ten steps ahead, while rage twisted her features as she kept listening to the conversation.
“I called Paola,” she said. “The Italian friend who used to work at Neptune. She quit a week ago. When I asked why, she didn’t say. But I told her about Asma, Leif, and Callum, and gave her their numbers. I think she’ll help.”
“Then what’s the plan now?” Alejandra asked, glancing at Antonio, whose face was pale with fatigue.
Like she wanted to remind everyone the real reason why they were there.
Not for Salacia. Azul. Money. Jamie. TerraVive or even Thomas.
They were there for him, and that should be anything that mattered.
“I’d like to go to the beach,” Antonio said softly. “Rest there. Maybe it could help you all clear your minds and decompress.”
Everyone eagerly agreed. Whatever he wanted, they’d do.
They packed quickly. Ginevra rode on Ilias’ shoulders, gripping his head with surprising strength. Carlos had Francesca in his arms.
“Now he’s my boyfriend,” Ginevra declared, proudly hugging Ilias’s head.
“He snores at night,” Sofia muttered dryly.
Ginevra recoiled in horror. “Then he’s yours. Yo no quiero que ronque.”
The entire group laughed, while Ilias grabbed her and tickled her while she screeched in pure joy.
With her arm around her father, they walked together steadying him.
His eyes took in the interaction between his granddaughter and his son-in-law.
There was longing, softness, sadness. It was the little things that told her everything that no one would say out loud.
The truth hung in the air like salt on the breeze: They were running out of time.
She could see it in the way her mother never really had her husband out of sight, or how José helped by not allowing Antonio to carry any weight while he made a joke.
Everyone could feel it. But they would hold onto what they had, for as long as it lasted.