CHAPTER 22
“Fear is love’s greatest enemy…”
DIEGO BITTENCOURT
I couldn’t even measure the anger ripping through me. My head was racing, pulsing with a mix of frustration and disbelief.
Pregnant?! And she said the baby was mine?!
It had to be a sick joke. Impossible—she had to be lying.
I shot up from my chair so fast I nearly knocked it over. I paced the office, blood boiling in my veins.
Maria Gabriela—the secretary I trusted with my life—was trying to play me. She had to be pregnant by someone else, and now she wanted to drop that bomb in my lap.
What did she want—secure a payday for another man’s kid?
Run a con, maybe.
I stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, staring at the city, but all I saw was a blur of lights and buildings.
“I’m pregnant, Diego. It’s yours.”
My fists clenched, rage surging again. How dare she? How could she say that, knowing I never wanted to go through that again?
After what happened with Arthur’s mother, I swore I’d never get emotionally involved.
Never again.
And now she was trying to trap me with this ridiculous story.
The door swung open and my brother, Alexandre, walked in with his usual breezy air.
“Narciso, you okay?” he asked, frowning when he took in my state. “I came to talk about the meeting with the new investors.”
I let out a short breath, still seething, but his presence yanked me out of the spiral for half a second. I raked a hand through my hair, trying to calm down. I needed to focus on work, but all I could think about was my last conversation with Maria Gabriela.
“Leave that for later,” I said, my voice harsher than I meant. “There’s something a hell of a lot more important.”
Alexandre stepped closer, arms crossed, studying me with that mix of curiosity and concern. He’d always known that beneath the cold facade I carried around, there was more going on than I showed. Right now, all I could feel was anger.
“What happened?” he asked, calm as ever—the kind of calm that only irritated me more when I was about to explode.
“She walked into my office today and said she’s pregnant.” The words tasted like poison. “And guess what? She says it’s mine.”
His face shifted, surprise flashing before he took a step back. His expression went serious fast; he scratched the back of his neck—the tell he always had when he was nervous.
“And do you believe her?” he asked, trying for neutral, though I saw the worry in his eyes.
“Of course I don’t, for fuck’s sake!” I snapped, my voice rising.
“I used a condom, Alexandre, and it was one time. There’s no way it’s mine.
She’s probably pregnant by someone else and now wants to pin it on me.
She wants me on the hook or… I don’t know—especially because I forced her to stay here another six months. But that’s not happening.”
His frown deepened, and for the first time I saw something in his eyes that pissed me off even more: doubt.
“Brother…” he began carefully, “are you sure? I mean, Maria Gabriela doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d pull something like that. And what if… I don’t know… something actually went wrong? These things happen, you know.”
I let out a bitter, humorless laugh.
“No, Alexandre,” I said, ice cold, folding my arms. “She’s trying to manipulate me. She knows how vulnerable I am about this. She wants to trap me—tie me to her and to this company. Or worse, make sure she never has to work again. I’m not falling for it.”
Alexandre drew a long breath, shoving his hands into his pockets. I could see how uncomfortable this made him. I couldn’t afford to be naive—not after everything I’d been through.
“You really think she’d do that? I know her—she’s loyal, dedicated, she’s worked for you for years. You really think she’d risk her job and her career to pull a stunt like this?”
“I made her stay at the company—maybe this is payback. What I do know is I’m not taking chances. She’s about to find out I’m not that easy to manipulate.”
He watched me for a beat, frustration flickering across his face.
“You need to think clearly,” he said firmly. “You can’t just dismiss what she said. What if it’s true? What if it really is your child?”
I shut my eyes for a second, refusing to let that thought in. I couldn’t. It wasn’t real.
“For fuck’s sake, I already told you—it’s not my kid,” I said, slow and flat.
“Think hard about your next move,” he warned. “Acting hotheaded is always the worst option—and you know that.”