Chapter 56
FIFTY-SIX
ENRICO FERRARA
My body was seated behind the desk in my office, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.
More precisely, it was still in the bed I’d just left behind—on the sheets that still smelled like Valentina, on the woman who, after rejecting me so unequivocally, had walked out of my room wearing nothing but one of my shirts, like some cruel joke from the universe.
Every cell in my body still vibrated with the memory of her warmth, the soft sounds she’d made against my skin, the way she’d given in to me—even if only for a moment.
Valentina had surrendered completely the night before. And even though my wife had made it painfully clear how fleeting that trust had been, it was impossible to erase the feeling from my mind.
André was standing in front of me, talking about something, but his voice felt distant, muffled by a constant hum of distraction.
My gaze drifted to a random spot on the wall behind him while my brain insisted on replaying every second of the night before—her dark eyes locked on mine, the sound of her breathing, the way she’d pushed me away that morning…
“Enrico! Fuck—pay attention!” André slammed his hands on the desk, irritated, yanking me back to reality.
I shook my head sharply, blinking as I finally focused on my brother’s worried face.
“What? What were you saying?” I asked, trying—and failing—to hide my distraction.
He let out a frustrated sigh.
“You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?”
I took a deep breath, running my hands over my face as I tried to push Valentina out of my thoughts, at least temporarily.
“No,” I admitted honestly, fixing him with a serious look. “You lost me after you mentioned Eloá for the third time. I already told you—I don’t care.”
André rubbed a hand over his face, breathing noisily, as if staying calm required monumental effort.
“You should care. I know you don’t want to hear anything that comes from her, but this isn’t optional. I wouldn’t be here if it were. What she’s planning is dangerous, and if we don’t intervene, it’s going to cost all of us.”
I narrowed my eyes, nodding slowly.
“Fine. Tell me,” I said, leaning forward, finally feeling tension replace the haze Valentina had left behind. “What exactly is Eloá planning, André?”
He sighed before finally speaking, his voice low and heavy with concern as he laid it out.
“She plans to use the Caravaggio Foundation charity ball, in S?o Paulo, to publicly announce that she’s filing for full custody of Clara.”
My entire body stiffened instantly, tension detonating inside me like a bomb.
“What?”
He inhaled deeply, his expression dark.
“She’s going to claim you’re emotionally unstable and a risk to your daughter’s safety and emotional development.
She plans to accuse Valentina of being complicit in an emotional manipulation that supposedly affected you since you returned to Tiradentes.
She says she has evidence and witnesses, though I seriously doubt the validity of any of it. ”
I shot up from my chair, nausea rising as anger and disbelief collided violently inside me.
“She wouldn’t do that,” I muttered, trying to convince myself more than him—even though I already knew the truth.
André shook his head, serious and unwavering.
“Enrico, you know exactly what Eloá is capable of. She doesn’t want Clara out of love. She wants her to control you. To keep you permanently tied to her will. And more than anything, she wants to destroy any chance you and Valentina might have of being a family—now or in the future.”
I took a deep breath, my heart hammering as I tried to organize my thoughts.
“What can we do to stop this? Has she talked to anyone in the press yet?”
André shook his head quickly.
“Not yet. But she’s already lined things up with influential people in her social circle. She plans to make the announcement at the ball, knowing you won’t attend. Your absence will be used against you—as proof of the negligence and instability she intends to claim.”
I dragged a hand down my face, fighting the surge of fury.
“Then I need to be there. I need to show up and confront her publicly.”
“Exactly,” André agreed immediately, relief flickering across his face. “The only way to shut this down is for you to appear at the event with Valentina. Show the world you’re a solid, united couple—responsible, stable. That alone dismantles Eloá’s entire argument.”
I ran my hands through my hair, fully aware of how hard it would be to convince Valentina—especially after everything that had just happened between us.
But one thing was certain: there was absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do to protect Clara and Valentina from my grandmother’s manipulative grip.
“The Caravaggio Foundation…” I repeated quietly. I hated events like that. “When is it?”
André sat back down across from me, meeting my gaze.
“Tomorrow night. The annual charity ball in S?o Paulo. Full of authorities, press, and influential figures. Eloá chose the perfect stage—but that also gives us the perfect chance to neutralize her.”
I nodded. The weight of the decision threatened to crush me, but I had no choice.
“I’ll be there. And Valentina will be with me. Eloá won’t win this time. I won’t allow it.”
André exhaled, relieved.
But as he started planning our next steps, my mind was already focused on the hardest challenge ahead: convincing Valentina to face that public battle at my side—even if it meant pretending to be united in a way she wasn’t ready to accept.
Almost an hour later, I left the office with my thoughts racing but my path clear. The idea of approaching Valentina now—after our last conversation—with yet another difficult request filled me with dread. But I had no alternatives. And I knew she’d understand.
I found her sitting alone on the back veranda, her distant gaze fixed on the garden. She looked as lost in thought as I felt.
When she heard my footsteps, she turned, meeting my eyes with a mix of caution and anxiety.
“We need to talk,” I said carefully, keeping my voice steady.
She took a deep breath, studying me before nodding once.
“Bad news?”
I walked over and sat beside her, leaving a careful distance—close enough for her scent to invade my senses and undo me.
“André brought me some troubling information. Eloá is planning something serious against us, Valentina…”
“Us?” she interrupted, blinking. “Not just you. Us?”
I nodded.
“Unfortunately, yes. And I want to apologize in advance.”
She stood and rubbed her forehead, staring out at the view for a moment.
“You don’t need to apologize for your grandmother’s actions, Enrico. You’re not her. I never thought you were.”
She hadn’t meant to hurt me—but she did. She was right. I didn’t deserve her. I never had.
“What Eloá is planning involves Clara directly,” I said. Valentina turned back to me immediately, eyes wide.
Her entire body tensed, pure instinct taking over.
“What do you mean, involves Clara? What is she planning to do?”
I took a deep breath, hating being the one to say it.
“She plans to publicly announce—at a charity event in S?o Paulo—that she’s filing for full custody of Clara.
She intends to accuse us of being emotionally unstable and a risk to our daughter.
And to support that narrative, she’s going to paint you as someone who’s been emotionally manipulating me since I returned to Tiradentes. ”
Valentina froze, her face draining of color as fear and understanding set in.
“Is she insane?” she exclaimed, voice shaking. “She can’t do that!”
“She doesn’t care about facts,” I said quietly. “She cares about control. About destroying our reputation and shaping public opinion before we even get a chance to defend ourselves.”
She started pacing, breathing hard as she tried to process it all.
“So what do we do?” she demanded. “I won’t let her threaten the stability we’ve just started to rebuild for Clara!”
Her desperation hit me like a blow.
I stood and approached carefully, resting a hand lightly on her arm.
“That won’t happen. I won’t let it. André found out in time. We can stop her before she even gets the chance.”
She looked at me, guarded but hopeful.
“Her plan depends on us not being at the event,” I explained. “She’ll use our absence as proof of negligence. So we need to go together. We need to appear united. Show everyone we’re a solid family.”
She stepped back, shaking her head.
“Enrico, I can’t. We can barely look at each other without everything turning into chaos. How are we supposed to pretend to be a solid couple in public?”
I exhaled slowly.
“I know how hard this is. I wouldn’t ask if there were another way. But this is for Clara. The only way to protect her is for us to stand together—just for this event. If we show up, Eloá loses all credibility.”
She stood still, breathing heavily, torn by the conflict inside her.
“Please, Valentina,” I said softly. “You don’t have to forgive me or trust me right now.
I hate asking anything else of you. But help me face this.
Just for one night. Let’s be the family Clara deserves.
Let me show the world that you and our daughter are everything to me—and that nothing Eloá does will take you away from me again. ”
I waited, my heart pounding.
Finally, she lifted her gaze. I saw the decision forming, despite the turmoil.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” she said. “But don’t get things twisted.” She paused, firm. “This is not a yes for us. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to move forward with you. I’m doing this for my daughter.”
I nodded.
“I understand. And I’m grateful.”
She watched me for a few seconds, calmer now, though still cautious. Then she looked away, toward the garden, before facing me again with something new in her eyes.
“I’ve spent the last few hours thinking about all this,” she said slowly. “And I’ve decided that if this is going to work, we need rules.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Rules?” I asked, unable to suppress a faint, ironic smile. “You really think rules are the solution?”
She narrowed her eyes at my tone.
“Yes. Rules. Because I don’t intend for what happened last night to happen again. And I think we both agree repeating that would only make things worse.”
I sighed. No, I didn’t agree—but I kept that to myself.
“Alright. I’m listening.”
She crossed her arms, adopting a more confident, almost professional stance.
“Rule one: physical contact limited to what’s strictly necessary. No unnecessary touching.”
I nodded.
“Understood.”
“Rule two: personal conversations kept to a minimum. Anything about the past or delicate matters happens only with the therapist—or when Clara isn’t around.”
“That’s reasonable,” I said, reluctantly.
She hesitated before continuing.
“Rule three—and the most important one: we do not enter each other’s bedrooms. Ever.”
I fought a smile.
“Separate rooms. Got it.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t test me, Enrico. I’m serious.”
I raised my hands defensively, smiling despite myself.
“I’ll try my best.”
She sighed, then locked eyes with me.
“New rule,” she said. “You’re not allowed to look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like… like—never mind. Just don’t.”
I laughed.
“I have no idea what you mean, but I’ll try.”
Her gaze drifted to my mouth. Her breathing hitched. Heat spread through me as I watched her eyes trace my body.
Suddenly, she snapped back to herself.
“You also can’t walk around the house without a shirt,” she blurted, cheeks flushed.
“What?”
“And you can’t wear that cologne you always use.”
I tilted my head, wetting my upper lip. Her eyes followed the movement.
“My cologne?” I asked. “You’re banning my cologne?”
“I am. And you can’t stare at me for more than five seconds.”
“Anything else?”
“And stop smiling. And no provocative laughing.”
I laughed out loud.
“Could you define provocative laughing?”
“Enrico,” she growled.
“So basically, I can’t exist in the same universe as you.”
“Take this seriously!”
I nodded solemnly.
“No shirt. No cologne. No looking. No smiling. No laughing.”
She sighed.
“And you? Any rules you want to add?”
A dry laugh escaped me.
“Valentina, you could wear a burqa, avoid me completely, say nothing—and I’d still want you exactly the same,” I said quietly. “There’s no rule in this world that would make me want you less.”
She froze, cheeks burning, eyes dropping.
Finally, she looked back up.
“Then I’m adding one more rule,” she said firmly. “You’re not allowed to say things like that.”