Chapter 62
SIXTY-TWO
VALENTINA FERRARA
I stared at the impressive scale model spread across Enrico’s desk, struck by the richness of its details. Everything looked so real that it was easy to imagine people walking through it, voices and laughter filling the space that would soon become the Clara Ferrara Institute.
“Here,” Enrico began to explain, his voice low and energized as he carefully pointed to the central structure, “this will be the main building. A space dedicated to culture and education—exhibitions, workshops, community courses.”
I couldn’t resist the urge to gently touch the miniature. A smile appeared on my lips before I could stop it.
Construction would begin very soon. The first meeting with the restorer was scheduled for the next day to finalize the remaining details.
The institute’s headquarters would be the first building to benefit from the project, and Enrico was determined to make sure everything was perfect from the very beginning.
The restorer he had hired was an international reference. Marcos Albuquerque had restored historic buildings all over the world. I still couldn’t quite believe how much money and effort Enrico was investing in the ICF.
I knew he’d been working on something over the past few months, ever since stepping down as president of Ferrada Corp, but not for a single second had it crossed my mind that it could be something for Tiradentes.
Something for me.
“This is incredible, Enrico,” I murmured, enchanted, my eyes still roaming over the model. “And what’s this here?” I asked, pointing to a smaller building beside it.
“A multifunctional auditorium,” he answered immediately, stepping closer. I felt his physical presence intensely, but I didn’t move away. “For events, lectures, performances. Maybe something special for that dance school next door,” he added with a subtle smile that made me laugh softly.
“You really thought of everything. It’s unbelievable… How long did you spend planning something like this?”
Enrico fell silent for a moment. When I looked back at him, he was serious, his deep eyes fixed on mine with a sincerity that made me hold my breath.
“To be honest, I started planning all of this the day after I found out about my grandmother’s lies,” he admitted gently, keeping his gaze locked on mine.
I swallowed hard, absorbing the weight of that confession.
“I knew I had to try to repair everything I destroyed. You weren’t the only one I hurt, Valentina. ”
A wave of emotion rose in my throat. I quickly looked away, my chest tightening under the impact of his words.
“The last five years were hard. Pain, longing, regret…” His voice faltered slightly, forcing him to pause before continuing. “I completely lost myself along the way. I let other people choose my life for me. And that’s not the man I want Clara to know in the future.”
I froze, emotions colliding inside me in a tangled, overwhelming mix. His honesty was almost painful. The urge to touch him, to hold him, to offer comfort was nearly irresistible—but I fought it, reminding myself how dangerous it still was to lower my defenses completely.
I took a deep breath, discreetly clearing my throat to regain control, and quickly pointed to another section of the model, forcing my voice into a practical, neutral tone.
“And this building here—what exactly is it?” I asked, desperately trying to steer the conversation back to something safer, less emotionally charged.
From the brief glint of amusement in Enrico’s eyes, I could tell he’d noticed my strategic retreat. Still, he respected it, calmly resuming his explanation of the project with patience.
The conversation continued—lighter, safer—but we both knew that brief emotional moment had been a clear revelation.
And as frightened as I was by that realization, a small part of me felt stronger, steadier, because of his courage in sharing it with me.
***
I left the bank distracted, checking a few documents as I walked along the sidewalk. The morning was quiet in Tiradentes—the kind of day that made the town feel even more welcoming under the soft sunlight.
The street was mostly empty, the calm pace typical of mornings in a small town. Then suddenly, the rear door of a luxury car parked just ahead opened, forcing me to stop.
I frowned, confused, until a familiar, sweet and unpleasant voice echoed from inside the vehicle.
“Get in, Valentina.”
My body reacted before my mind fully processed what was happening. Eloá Ferrara was there, impeccably dressed, staring at me with a cold, cutting smile.
My stomach tightened, an old, familiar sense of unease crashing back over me. Eloá wasn’t just Enrico’s grandmother. She was, quite literally, the woman responsible for destroying my life in the past.
It had been many years since I’d last seen her, but I had the distinct feeling she couldn’t say the same about me.
“No, thank you,” I replied, struggling to keep my composure as my heart raced. “I have nothing to say to you.”
Eloá’s smile widened slightly, her eyes locked on mine, radiating a calm that was chilling.
“Oh, my dear, we do,” she said venomously. “And I have no intention of discussing personal matters on the street, where anyone might overhear. It will only take a few minutes. Surely you’re not afraid of a brief conversation with me, are you?”
I hesitated, unsettled by the way she’d chosen her words. Eloá had always been a master manipulator—I knew that. But I also sensed she wouldn’t leave without saying what she wanted.
And in a way, I needed to know exactly what she was planning this time.
Enrico’s grandmother had been quiet for far too long. Ever since that charity event, she hadn’t made a single move toward us.
“You have five minutes,” I said coldly, climbing into the car and sitting on the opposite side of the seat.
The door closed behind me, sealing us off completely from the outside world. The car was saturated with her expensive, suffocating perfume, instantly dragging up memories I would have preferred to forget.
Eloá leaned back against the leather, her assessing gaze slowly sweeping over me.
“It’s good to see you again, Valentina,” she remarked with irony, as if making an enormous effort just to say it.
“I can’t say the same,” I replied flatly.
She let out a dramatic sigh, studying me for a few seconds before continuing in a smooth, carefully controlled voice.
“I won’t waste your time with unnecessary conversation. I came to warn you about my grandson.” She paused, her sharp eyes fixed on me, waiting for a reaction. “Do you truly believe Enrico has changed, Valentina? Do you really think you can trust him again?”
I swallowed hard, fighting to contain the surge of anger threatening to consume me.
“Be direct, Eloá. If you have something to say about Enrico, say it. I don’t have the patience for your games today.”
Her cold smile deepened, the dangerous glint in her eyes making it clear this conversation was far from over.
“Very well. Direct, then,” she said softly. “Let’s talk about who Enrico really is. About everything you still—naively—don’t know about him.”
I met Eloá Ferrara’s icy, calculating stare head-on.
“If you came all this way just to repeat the same old speech, I’m sorry to tell you that you wasted your time.”
She raised a thin, elegant eyebrow and let out a small, disdainful laugh.
“Oh, my dear, that’s exactly where you’re wrong.
I’m doing you a favor, actually. You should be thanking me.
After all, you only know the version of my grandson he’s chosen to present now—because it’s convenient.
But believe me, it never lasts. It never has.
” She paused deliberately, leaning slightly closer.
“Do you really think this marriage—this ‘fairy tale’ you’ve put together for the press and society—will hold once Enrico has everything he wants again? ”
“And what exactly do you think he wants, Eloá?” I asked, feeling my blood begin to boil.
She smiled venomously, her expression almost predatory.
“The same things he’s always wanted, Valentina. Power. Control. You and your daughter are merely useful tools to him right now. Believe me—I know my grandson better than anyone. I raised him. I know exactly how his mind works.”
Anger surged through me, but I forced myself to remain composed, knowing that was exactly what Eloá wanted—to destabilize me.
“The Enrico you know, Eloá, is the Enrico you created,” I said firmly, meeting her gaze with resolve.
“A man who lived for years under your manipulation and lies. The Enrico I know now is different. He’s a man who recognizes his mistakes, who’s trying to be better—for me and for Clara.
Something you’re incapable of understanding. ”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, irritation flashing across her face, but she quickly regained her cold composure.
“You’re na?ve, Valentina. You always have been.
Do you really think a man like him changes?
” she pressed. “What if I told you he never loved you? That he always knew exactly who you were and chose to believe me because it was more convenient? Do you really believe your love has that much power over someone like Enrico?”
Her words stabbed deep, reopening old wounds I’d been struggling to close. For a brief moment, my breathing faltered—but I regained control quickly, holding my posture steady.
“You destroyed my life once with your lies, Eloá,” I said calmly. “I won’t allow you to do it again. I’m no longer the frightened, lost girl whose life you manipulated five years ago. I know exactly who you are—and what you’re trying to do.”
Eloá smiled condescendingly, shaking her head.
“Oh no, dear. I didn’t destroy your life. You did that yourself by choosing a man like my grandson. And you’ll do it again if you keep insisting on this fantasy.”
And then I saw it—clearly.
Eloá was desperate.
That unexpected visit wasn’t an act of control, but the final move of a woman who was about to lose everything.