After his willingness to get serious and support the situation, Noelia returned to Vancouver, giving him one last chance at their wedding. But he didn't keep his promise. He kept drinking and using drugs. He continued to attend the artists ' endless parties after the concerts and have sex with any woman in front of him.

Time passed and Noelia's pregnancy was nearing the ninth month. She waited patiently for what would be the night she would hear the door open seeing Vince.

It never came that night. But there's another one. While Vince was running around at celebrity parties, Noelia started to hurt her belly horribly. At the same time, Vince was having sex with another woman, Noelia was bleeding horribly in the bedroom.

She crawled across the floor trying to grab the phone. The noise from her fall mobilized the servants of the house, who helped her lie in bed waiting for the ambulance.

Her body was very exhausted resulting in complications after pregnancy.

After three hours of surgery, doctors removed the fetus by cesarean section, administering a powerful anesthetic to her sleep.

At some point, one of the maids, Claudia, came out of Noelia's booth and called Luke. Scared, he ran to Vince who was dancing dizzily at a party, and making a nod to him, he pushed him into a corner. "Unfortunately, Sir," Luke said.

Vince, dismayed, distraught, lost, and between debauchery and real-life, he walked slowly in the garden of the house where the party was, and with slow movements, he began to take his clothes one by one till he was naked.

The crowd around him began to laugh, others mocked, others clapped. Vince, with an inexpressible face, walked right into the pool and stayed submerged. People around thought he was joking.

When they began to appear some bubbles on the surface of the water, Luke, scared, he realized that he was trying to drown himself and ran, dived into the water and pulled him out. He took off his trench coat and put it on him. He grabbed his clothes and went back to the mansion in Montreal.

Luke laid him on the bed, leaving on the bedside table a sedative and a glass of water. Vince, with the same inexpressible face staring at the ceiling, blinked, releasing a few tears and plunged into lethargy.

Early in the morning of the next day, he returned to Vancouver for his daughter's funeral. Just before she was buried, he asked to be alone with her. Desperate from pain, he was staring at the baby's dead body. With a trembling hand, he touched her on the cheek gently. "I should be in there, not you," he thought silently.

A little angel barely had a chance to breathe when she came out of his mother's belly.

Vince knew he wasn't the ideal father. He believed, however, that only the presence of his daughter in life, it would be a reason to withdraw him from the pit of his black personality. "My God, you let me live, who was no big deal, a discarded child of all. And you didn't let my daughter live that you know she wouldn't miss anything. And especially love," he muttered into his mind looking at his dead child.

He swallowed several sedatives, and supported by Ray and Luke, he escorted the child to his final resting place. Noelia was devastated, accompanied by some of her acquaintances far away from Vince.

Late in the morning of the next day, Vince called the hotel where Lavinia was staying.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. But you do realize that you had a responsibility to leave her alone while she was pregnant," she told him calmly.

"That's why it hurts. Vinnie, I lost my daughter before I even met her. Before I held her in my arms. Terrible feeling a parent losing a child. I feel both anger and pain and confusion and..." he faltered.

"I know. Vince, make an effort to express those feelings, get them out."

"How my God, how..!" he whispered in despair.

"You're a musician. You sing. Write a song with everything you feel and let it be heard. You will help and comfort others who have lost a child. Use your art, your talent to offer this time. And not to validate the chronic arrogance of artists who want them to look like this; but the pure talent, the love for it. And shine; shine like that again; without expecting anything in return. Build a strong bond with your audience without your life making noise, but your music," she stopped her monologue, in the secret hope that she managed to influence him even a little.

"My most powerful barbiturate, you know what its name is? Vinnie."

She smiled at his comment and hung up waiting for the song she asked him to write.