Chapter Diego Bittencourt
DIEGO BITTENCOURT
“What is it? How long are you planning to just stand there staring at me, Alexandre?” I asked, impatient, tossing the papers onto the desk.
For a few seconds, my brother didn’t say a word—he just looked at me in that way only he could, a mix of patience and judgment.
“You know what you did today wasn’t right.” He finally broke the silence, his tone calm but firm. “Talking to Maria Gabriela like that… that’s not how a man acts.”
I rolled my eyes and turned toward the window. I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture—especially not about her.
“You don’t understand the situation,” I muttered without looking at him. “She brought this on herself when she lied to me.”
Alexandre didn’t move, but his posture stayed tense. I, on the other hand, could feel the fire rising in my chest again every time the memory of what Maria Gabriela had said came back to me.
“What if the baby really is yours?” Alexandre pressed, ignoring my attempt to change the subject.
“And even if it’s not, she could still be pregnant.
Treating a woman like that—especially with that uncertainty—” He shook his head, clearly disappointed.
“You think that’s going to make anything better? ”
“And what do you want me to do?” I shot back, my voice louder than I intended. “Pretend nothing happened? Pretend everything’s fine? Because it’s not! She says she’s pregnant, but there’s no way that child’s mine. I made sure to take every precaution, Alexandre!”
He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer. There wasn’t anger in his eyes—just that damn calm patience of his, the kind that irritated me more than any argument ever could.
“Listen. I’m not saying you should act like nothing happened. But maybe stop for a second and think. You might’ve been careful, but nothing’s one hundred percent guaranteed. And if it’s true? How are you going to deal with that later?”
I knew Alexandre was trying to talk sense into me, but the anger was still too strong—burning in me like embers that refused to die.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice dropping as the weight on my shoulders started to sink in.
“Then take it easy, Diego.” His tone softened, his gaze steady. “She might’ve crossed a line, but you’re not dealing with a number on a spreadsheet. You’re dealing with a person.” He paused, letting that sink in. “All of this is going to have consequences—and I’m not just talking about work.”
I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair before finally turning to face him.
Part of me had felt that tightness in my chest ever since the words left my mouth earlier, when I lashed out at Maria Gabriela.
The anger, the jealousy—they were eating me alive. I had no idea how to control any of it.
“I’ll think about it,” I said at last, though my voice was still thick with frustration.
“Good.” Alexandre nodded, and for a moment, the tension in the room eased. “I know your head’s a mess right now, but sometimes letting your guard down does more good than staying in defense mode all the time. And you know I’ll always be here to back you up—even when you don’t ask.”
He gave me a quick pat on the back before walking out of the room.
I dropped into my chair and leaned back, closing my eyes for a few seconds.
Alexandre was right.
And I hated admitting it.