Diego Bittencourt
I drove straight to my parents’ house without even thinking.
It was like my body knew where I needed to be before my mind caught up.
It had been a while since my last visit, and despite the chaos at work, I knew I had to see my father. Since the stroke, he’d been confined to a bed, unable to move or speak.
As soon as I parked in the driveway, I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the moment that always got to me. My mother opened the door almost the instant I rang the bell.
“Son!” she said with a smile, her eyes lighting up the way they always did when I showed up unannounced.
My mother was a strong woman. No matter what life had thrown at her, she kept her back straight. But there was a gentleness about her that never failed to calm me, even on my hardest days.
“Mom.” I stepped forward to kiss her cheek. “How are things here?”
She gave me that look only a mother can give—the one that says she knows there’s more going on than you’re ready to admit.
“The same as always,” she sighed softly. “Your father’s in the bedroom, resting. Do you want to see him?”
I nodded, but before heading down the hall we sat for a few minutes in the living room, catching up. She asked about Arthur, as always, wanting to know every detail—his last test at school, what he’d had for breakfast.
I answered as best I could, trying to sound more relaxed than I felt. But my mind kept drifting back to everything with Maria Gabriela, and it was hard to focus on anything else.
After a few minutes, I got up and walked the familiar hallway to my father’s room.
The steady beep of the heart monitor greeted me first, a low, rhythmic sound marking the time of a life now bound to medical routines. The air held that faint, unmistakable scent of antiseptic and overcleaned surfaces.
His bed was an adjustable hospital bed, rails on either side to keep him from moving or falling at night.
Beside it, the ventilator hummed, pushing air into his lungs with mechanical regularity. Oxygen tubes snaked up to his face, a thin lifeline connecting him to the world I knew but that now felt so distant.
In one corner, an infusion pump delivered medication at set intervals, its motor soft but present with every cycle—a reminder that even his comfort was machine-controlled.
Another device stood ready to feed nutrients directly into his stomach through a tube.
Each piece of equipment was a lifeline and a prison, tying him to the bed, the room, his condition.
Digital monitors lined the walls, recording every heartbeat, every breath. Numbers flashed on screens I barely understood but that the nurses read carefully each time they came in.
Everything in that room reminded me my father was no longer the man I once knew. He now depended on machines to keep going, each one both sustaining him and marking the growing distance between who he’d been and what remained.
I hated that room. But it was the only place where my father still existed.
I stood beside the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest in sync with the ventilator’s hum. Talking to him in that space full of machines was like speaking to someone just out of reach. Still, I always spoke.
“Hey, Dad,” I said softly, knowing he couldn’t answer but believing he heard me anyway.
I paused, my eyes falling to his hands resting motionless on the white sheet, then went on. Some days I stayed silent. Other days, like today, I needed to talk.
“Arthur’s doing great,” I began, a small smile tugging at my lips. “He’s growing so fast, you know? Every day he’s more like you—smart, stubborn, curious. He makes me think of how you were with us when we were kids. Always so present, even with all the work.”
I thought I saw the faintest flicker in his eyes, like he was trying to follow. Even without words, I felt like he understood.
“And the company… well, you know how it is. Always busy, always a challenge.” I smiled, but the fatigue leaked through my voice.
“But it’s under control, like always. Alexandre and I are on top of everything.
Amacel’s doing well, growing more every day.
I wish you could see it—wish you could be there with us. ”
There was a heaviness in the words, a longing for how things had been before the stroke, before everything changed. I wanted him there with me, like he always had been.
“Ah, Dad…” I sighed, and for a moment, Maria Gabriela’s face flashed through my mind. It was impossible to avoid. Even here, in this room, with my father lying still in front of me, she was always there.
“There’s something else,” I said, glancing away for a second.
“Maria Gabriela. You know, my secretary.” I smiled faintly, but there was more beneath it.
“She’s… indispensable to me. In the company, of course.
But not just there.” Saying it out loud—even to my father, who couldn’t respond—felt like an important step.
“I can’t let her go. She wants to leave, but I’ll make sure she stays.
She belongs to the company, Dad. And in some way…
she belongs to me. I don’t know how to explain it.
But I’m not letting her go that easily. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her. With me.”
I knew my father would’ve told me to fight for what mattered. And as much as I tried to ignore it, Maria Gabriela had become important to me in a way I was still trying to understand.
I stayed there a few more minutes, talking about other things—about the company, about life, about how time seemed to run faster every day.
But inside, my mind stayed fixed on that decision, on the insistent, tangled feeling that Maria Gabriela was far more than just an employee to me. And that scared me.
When I finally stood to leave, I reached for my father’s hand, squeezing it lightly. Even without words, he was still my anchor. He always had been.
“I’ll fix this, Dad,” I said before stepping out of the room, knowing that promise wasn’t just about the company—it was about my whole life.
I left the bedroom.
The air in there always felt heavier, denser.
And yet, talking to him—even without an answer—brought me a strange calm.
He’d always been my greatest adviser, the man who taught me everything about business and how to control my emotions—skills that had become essential for surviving the ruthless world I lived in.
Almost the moment I stepped out, I heard the front door open. My brother, Alexandre, walked into our parents’ house, wearing his usual look of mild surprise at finding me there. We both popped in unannounced, but it was rare we crossed paths on these visits.
“You’re here?” he said, one eyebrow arched, his tone half-joking but edged with seriousness. “That’s a surprise.”
“Decided to come see Dad.”
Alexandre and I had always been close, but there was a quiet competitiveness between us that had kept us sharp all these years. He was my best friend, but also the only one who could really challenge me.
We walked together into the living room and sank onto the old sofa from our childhood. On the surface, it looked like any ordinary afternoon, but we both knew our conversations were rarely small talk.
And I knew that sooner or later I’d end up bringing up what had been weighing on me lately: Maria Gabriela.
“Something happen at work?” he asked, studying me with that sharp gaze of his.
Alexandre had always been good at reading people—especially me. He picked up on the small shifts, even when I tried to mask them.
I sighed, crossing my arms, knowing he’d find out sooner or later anyway.
“Maria Gabriela wants to quit,” I blurted out, bracing for his reaction.
Alexandre’s brow furrowed, genuine surprise flashing across his face.
“She what?!” He leaned forward, his tone now serious. “You’re kidding.”
“No. She told me she’s leaving at the end of the month,” I said, keeping my gaze steady. “But I made her an offer.”
Alexandre gave me that measured look he always did when he was piecing something together.
“What kind of offer?” he asked, curiosity laced with skepticism.
“I’m keeping her on for six more months,” I said flatly. “During that time, nothing changes. I’m going to prove to her that her place is with me—that she belongs at Amacel.”
Alexandre slowly shook his head, his eyes scanning my face, already knowing what he wanted to say.
“You’re planning to make her life hell for those six months?” he asked bluntly.
“Only if she gives me a reason,” I replied with a confident smile. “Knowing Maria Gabriela, I don’t think that’ll happen. I’ll be the same man with her. Nothing will change.”
He arched a brow, clearly unconvinced by my simplicity.
“And why would nothing change?” he asked, his tone sharper now. “You’re talking about keeping someone in a job against her will. It’s not going to be as simple as you think.”
“Because I’m going to show her where she belongs,” I said with the same firmness I used in any business negotiation. “With me.”
“That sounds way too possessive,” he shot back, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.
“Yes,” I admitted without hesitation. “I am possessive. And she’s mine.”
Alexandre studied me for a moment, his expression serious, almost paternal—like he was trying to warn me about something I couldn’t see.
“You’re talking like she’s already accepted your six-month deal.”
I smiled, though I knew my confidence might come off as arrogance.
“She will,” I said firmly. “Maria Gabriela doesn’t have options.”
He shook his head, skepticism written all over his face.
“You really think this is going to work? That forcing her to stay will make her see things your way?” he asked, giving me that look I knew so well.
“It’s not about forcing,” I corrected, folding my arms. “It’s about making her realize there’s nowhere else to run. Six months is more than enough for her to change her mind.”
Alexandre exhaled, shaking his head again but dropping the subject. He knew that once I’d set my mind on something, there was little chance of changing it.
“Just… be careful,” he said quietly. “Sometimes the control we think we have can turn against us.”
I knew he was right. But deep down, I wasn’t worried. Maria Gabriela was mine, and one way or another, I’d make sure she stayed exactly where I wanted her.