CHAPTER 13
“The truth may hurt, but lies eat away at the soul…”
DIEGO BITTENCOURT
I’d had a quick meeting with a few investors that morning, but now my mind was somewhere else. Something I’d been stewing over since we got back from the trip: Maria Gabriela.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said, and, to be honest, it was getting under my skin.
I wasn’t the kind of man who let personal issues interfere with work, but with her everything felt different.
And this idea of hers—resigning at the end of the month—that simply wasn’t going to happen.
I got up from my chair and walked to the big window of my office, staring out at the skyline that usually reminded me of everything I’d built. But right then, all I could hear was her voice saying she wanted to leave.
I picked up the phone and dialed her extension.
“Come to my office. Now.” My voice came out firm, leaving no room for negotiation.
Minutes later, the door opened. She stepped in, her expression composed, trying to project professionalism, but I caught the discomfort flickering in her eyes. I watched her a moment longer through the reflection in the glass.
She knew this conversation was inevitable.
“I’m here,” she said, closing the door behind her and standing in front of my desk.
I turned, arms crossed, letting my gaze rest on her for a beat. There was a stubborn set to her posture—something that only irritated me more—because I knew this wasn’t just about work. There was something else behind her decision, and I needed to know what it was.
“I want to know if you really plan to leave the company at the end of the month,” I said. “And this time, no excuses. No dodging.”
She took a slow breath before answering, her eyes flicking away for a heartbeat before meeting mine. She knew she was about to say something I didn’t want to hear.
“Yes, Diego,” she said, her voice steady but heavy. “I’m resigning at the end of the month. It’s already decided.”
Something inside me snapped.
It wasn’t just the decision to leave. It was the idea that she thought she could walk away from everything we’d built without consequence. That she thought leaving was that simple.
I’d shaped her—professionally, personally. She was where she was because I’d brought her here.
I stepped closer to the desk, eyes locked on hers. I wasn’t going to accept this. I couldn’t.
“Let me be clear: I’m not accepting your resignation.” My voice dropped, cold and low, the kind of firmness that made her look away for a second.
Her brow furrowed in surprise.
“What do you mean, you’re not accepting it?” she asked, trying to sound confident, but I saw the hesitation in her stance.
I held her gaze, letting her see that this wasn’t a game.
“You belong to me,” I said, each word laced with conviction. “I made you. Everything you are professionally, every success you’ve achieved so far, is because I gave you that chance. I’m not going to let you throw it all away over some foolish idea of walking out.”
She drew in a breath, opening her mouth to respond, but I cut her off.
“And if you really decide to leave, Maria Gabriela…” my tone sharpened, edged with threat, “I’ll make sure you don’t get another job at any company that matters in this city—or anywhere. You won’t go to a competitor. You won’t go anywhere that isn’t under my command. Am I clear?”
She stared at me, shock and anger flickering across her face. My words had hit their mark, but at the same time, I saw defiance rising in her eyes. She wasn’t someone who backed down easily. Part of me admired that. But right now, I needed her to understand she had no choice.
“Diego, is that a threat?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly but still carrying that spark of challenge.
I moved closer, stopping right in front of her, my palms flat on the edge of the desk.
“Call it whatever you want,” I said evenly, my voice heavy with resolve. “But I’m not letting you go. And I’ll make sure you understand that—one way or another. You decide how.”
She stayed silent, her eyes locked on mine as if trying to gauge just how far I’d go.
I knew she was weighing her options, measuring my words. And deep down, I knew she’d realize that, in the end, there was no way out.
After all, I was Diego Bittencourt. And I never let what’s mine slip away.