CHAPTER 44
“The mistakes of the past don’t define the future—it’s the lessons we learn that do…”
MARIA GAbrIELA
I was anxious to get back to work—but this time, for myself.
With the severance money from Amacel, I finally had the chance to pull an old dream off the shelf: start my own consulting firm for small business owners.
Helping other people bring their ideas to life had always fascinated me, and now felt like the right time. I had every detail mapped out, every step planned, and I was about to step into a new phase of my life—a phase where I was in control.
The last six months had been an emotional roller coaster, and Diego… Diego had surprised me.
The man who showed up when he was with Clara wasn’t the same man I’d known at work. He wasn’t the cold, hard-nosed boss anymore; he was a present father and, in some ways, someone I could almost trust.
In the beginning, I kept waiting for him to turn back into that irritating, provoking man I’d worked for—but it never happened. If anything, Diego had become thoughtful and careful, sticking to the schedule we’d set for his time with Clara.
He was always there when I needed something—whether it was a favor or just a simple conversation about nothing.
It was strange, but I caught myself wondering if this was the real Diego, the one who’d been hiding all along behind layers of arrogance and frost.
He gave me space. He never crossed my boundaries or tried to push me into conversations about us. That space gave me room to breathe, to think about the future without the weight of the past on every move I made.
Sometimes I’d watch him from a distance, taking care of our daughter, and I’d see a side of him I’d never imagined existed. He was patient with Clara, played with her so naturally it made me question if I’d ever really known him before.
And when he wasn’t around, I’d find myself replaying our recent talks—the kind words, the quiet ways he tried to make up for his mistakes.
Of course, there was still a part of me that burned with anger, that remembered every humiliation, every harsh word he’d thrown at me. But as the days passed, that anger started to fade, replaced by a growing curiosity about who Diego really was—and who he could become from here.
“You heading out already, honey?” my mom asked, tucking the blanket around Clara’s stroller.
“Yeah. Diego just got here,” I said, giving the mirror one last glance to make sure I was presentable.
Today was his son’s birthday, and Arthur had insisted that Clara and I come.
When I went down to the building’s entrance, I found Diego waiting by the car. He looked more relaxed than usual, a calm smile on his face that almost made me forget our messy past.
He opened the door for me and helped strap Clara into her seat with a gentleness I hadn’t expected.
Every small gesture felt like an attempt to show he’d changed—but at the same time, I couldn’t tell how much I could trust it.
The drive to the mansion was filled with light conversation. We talked about Clara—what she was learning—and even traded a few jokes, though the laughter didn’t come as easily as it once had.
There was a barrier there, something we both felt but neither of us wanted to name. It was like stepping into new territory, trying to navigate it without triggering the landmines of the past.
“I always like to say she’s got your eyes,” Diego said, watching Clara in the rearview mirror, the smile still playing on his lips.
“And your temper most of the time,” I shot back, half teasing, half serious. He smiled, and for a moment he almost made me forget the man he used to be.
When we reached the mansion, I couldn’t help but be impressed.
I’d always known Diego had money, but standing there at his home gave that reality a new dimension. The imposing facade, the immaculate gardens—everything exuded a quiet, striking elegance.
Diego got out and came around to my side, helping me lift Clara from the car. He looked more at ease here, as if being on his own turf let him drop his guard a little.
We walked together to the entrance, where a small birthday setup had been arranged. Colorful balloons decorated the doorway, and a smile spread across my face as I realized that, despite everything, Diego was a devoted father.
“It’s a small party—just family and a few close friends of Arthur’s,” he explained as he guided me inside. “I hope you feel comfortable.”
“It’s beautiful. I’m sure Arthur’s going to love it,” I said, taking in the warm atmosphere that, for a moment, made everything feel almost normal.
We stepped into the main room, where Arthur was surrounded by friends, running around a table piled with gifts and sweets. The moment he spotted us, he ran over, grinning from ear to ear.
“Gabi!” He threw his arms around me, then peered curiously at Clara in my arms. “She came!”
“She sure did, Arthur,” I said, smiling at him. “Clara came especially to see you.”
Arthur lit up, chattering excitedly about his plans for the party, and I felt myself relax a little more.
Diego watched from nearby, and every so often our eyes met—but without that heavy tension that had once been there.
“Thank you for coming. And for bringing our daughter,” he said quietly, his voice sincere.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, feeling a strange mix of emotions.
Diego exhaled, looking down for a moment before meeting my eyes again.
“I know I can’t erase the past, Maria Gabriela, but I want to be better—for you and for our daughter. I know I’ve got a lot to earn back, especially your trust, but I’m here. Whatever you need.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Are you in therapy?”
“Yes. And I’ve taken a few months off work.”
That shocked me. He’d always bragged about never missing a single day at the office.
“I asked because I saw you going into an office the other day while I was out walking with Clara.”
“No problem asking.”
“Why… why didn’t you tell me? About therapy or the break from work? Did you feel uncomfortable?”
He thought for a moment, then gave a brief, weighty smile.
“I didn’t want to use it to impress you or make you see me differently.
I didn’t want it to feel like I was trying to manipulate you or win you over,” he said quietly.
“I needed it—for me. I had to work on myself, figure myself out, so I could be the best father Clara could have. To try to be a better person. That was what mattered most. It wasn’t about you or about us—it was about what I had to change inside me. ”
His words hit me in a way I hadn’t expected.
I’d watched Diego change over the last few months, but hearing it directly from him—seeing the honesty in his eyes—was different.
He wasn’t trying to win me with grand gestures or empty promises. He was just… being honest. And somehow, that was more powerful than anything else he could’ve done.
“You really are changing,” I murmured, more to myself than to him.
Diego ran a hand through his hair, as if searching for the right words.
“I know I can’t undo what I did, Maria Gabriela. I know I hurt you, and nothing I do now will change that. But I’m trying. I’m trying to be better—for Clara, for Arthur, and… for you too, if you ever let me.”
There was a raw honesty in his voice, something I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.
He was standing there, vulnerable, something I never imagined Diego Bittencourt could be. The man who’d always been so sure of himself, so convinced of his choices, was now admitting his mistakes and trying to fix them.
I took a deep breath, trying to process it all.
For months I’d held on to my anger and pain, protecting myself behind a wall of distrust and resentment. And now, faced with this new version of Diego, I felt confused—unsure whether to lower my guard or keep it up.
“It’s hard for me to believe this is really happening,” I said quietly, meeting his eyes. “But I can’t deny you’ve been trying. And Clara has the father she deserves.”
He nodded, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight, Maria Gabriela. But I’m willing to wait. I’ll do whatever it takes to show you I’ve really changed.”
“But I may not change what I want right now, Diego.”
“That’s okay. I’m the one who messed up, and I’ll take the consequences. But I’m not going to stop trying—until my last breath—to bring this family together.”
I studied him for a few seconds, trying to gauge the seriousness in his words.
Was the powerful Diego Bittencourt really prepared to do that? To try until his last breath?
It was something I never would’ve imagined hearing from him months ago, when all we did was needle and provoke each other.
“Looks like someone’s turned into a poet,” I teased, raising an eyebrow, a smile tugging at my lips. “Who would’ve thought Diego Bittencourt, the ruthless CEO, would be talking about ‘bringing a family together’?”
He chuckled—that low, rough laugh I hadn’t heard in a while.
“Maybe I’ve discovered a new talent. Or maybe it’s just desperation talking.”
“Desperation?” I feigned surprise. “Didn’t think ‘desperation’ was in your vocabulary.”
“It wasn’t—until I realized I was losing you,” he said, half teasing, half truth.
My heart gave a small, traitorous jump. As much as I wanted to keep my guard up, it was hard not to be affected by this lighter, more human side of him.
It felt almost like going back to the beginning, before things got messy, before the doubts and the fights.
“Well, maybe I got used to the sarcastic Diego—the Diego who always had a comeback for everything,” I said, crossing my arms, trying to keep my tone casual. “This new Diego is going to be more work, because I don’t know how to handle him yet.”
He gave me a crooked smile, tilting his head slightly.
“At least that hasn’t changed—I’m still going to be work.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
“And here I thought you were trying to improve.”
“I am. But I can’t change completely, can I?” He shrugged, still wearing that playful smile. “After all, who else is going to get under your skin the way I do?”
“No one,” I admitted, laughing a little more. “And honestly… I think I’m starting to miss it.”
“Who would’ve thought you’d miss being teased?”
“And who would’ve thought you’d admit that teasing me was, in some weird way, how you got close to me?”
“I’m admitting a lot of things these days,” he said, and for a moment the joking tone faded into something deeper. “And that’s just one of them.”
I held his gaze, and for a few seconds, we didn’t need words.
Something had shifted between us—something beyond the fights, the teasing, even the hurt.
A new dynamic, a new beginning, was forming. And for the first time in a long time, it didn’t scare me.
“All right, poet,” I said, breaking the silence and bringing the tone back to light. “Let’s see how far this new version of you can impress me.”
“Oh, you’re going to be impressed. Count on it.”
“And what do I get if you fail?”
“If I fail…” He paused, like he was actually thinking it over. “You get the satisfaction of knowing you were right all along.”
I smiled—a real smile, without sarcasm or walls.
“And if you win?”
“If I win…” He stepped a little closer, holding my gaze. “If I win, maybe it means we both do.”