CHAPTER 12
“The truth has the power to destroy—but also to set you free…”
DIEGO BITTENCOURT
I drew in a deep breath as the jet cut through the clouds, the steady hum of the engines a backdrop to the storm in my head.
For the first time in a long while, I couldn’t focus on anything but Maria Gabriela and the conversation we’d had.
Was she really considering quitting? The thought was absurd. It couldn’t be true.
Maria Gabriela had been essential to Amacel’s success, and part of me refused to believe she was ready to walk away.
I’d given her everything.
She knew how much the company had grown with her help, how much she meant to the business. But more than that… I trusted her in a way I’d never trusted anyone.
I turned to the window, watching the city crawl closer beneath us, but my thoughts stayed tangled.
She couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t allow it.
Not after everything we’d built together—professionally and… personally, even if she didn’t want to admit it. I had never let anyone get as close to me as I had let Maria Gabriela.
Only my son’s mother, and I regretted that bitterly.
Even with my mind screaming to fix this now, I knew pushing her wasn’t the answer. Control was necessary. As much as I wanted to confront her, I decided to wait. We’d talk tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I’d put everything on the table.
By the time we landed in Florianópolis, it was late. The weight of the trip, the meetings, and everything that had happened in the last few days clung to both of us.
I glanced at Maria Gabriela as we stepped off the jet, signaling one of my drivers. A gesture she knew well.
“I asked the driver to take you straight home,” I said, keeping my tone clipped. She looked at me briefly, as if searching for what might come next, but I kept my expression unreadable. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
There was a firmness in my words she would recognize.
It wasn’t a suggestion—it was an order dressed as courtesy. I wanted her to understand this wasn’t resolved, that tomorrow I’d demand answers.
But resignation?
That was off the table.
I wasn’t the kind of man who let something that important slip away without a fight.
She gave a slight nod, but I caught the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Whatever it was, she wasn’t ready to tell me. Still, I was determined to find out, to dig into what was really going through her head—and to make damn sure this ridiculous idea of quitting vanished for good.
As she slid into the car, I stayed there, watching until it disappeared down the runway.
My focus sharpened, my mind locked on a single outcome.
I got into my own car right after, still turning over how I’d handle the conversation tomorrow. Losing Maria Gabriela wasn’t an option.
I was Diego Bittencourt. Nothing slipped from my control.
If she truly thought about leaving, then I’d do whatever it took to make her change her mind. Even if it meant playing every card I had.
Tomorrow, she’d learn firsthand—I wasn’t letting her walk away.