Chapter 45
FORTY-FOUR
ENRICO FERRARA
From where I stood on the terrace, looking down at the garden, Valentina and Clara playing together felt like a scene stolen from a distant dream—an alternate life I didn’t fully belong to.
Clara’s laughter filled the air, bright and effortless, the kind of joy that used to be foreign to me. It was becoming more common now—showing up in my days like sunlight I hadn’t earned.
Valentina was smiling.
A real smile. Open. Unguarded in a way I rarely saw when I was near her. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she wore a light dress that moved with the breeze.
The simplicity of it hit me harder than any boardroom confrontation ever had.
Happiness and grief rose together in my chest—twin blades.
Because all I could think was how much time I’d lost.
How the first years of my daughter’s life—those irreplaceable moments—could never truly be recovered. Regret burned deep, sharp and constant, like a wound that refused to close.
A small cry snapped me out of my thoughts.
Clara had tripped mid-run and fallen onto the grass with a frightened, high sob.
Valentina dropped to her knees instantly, hands gentle and quick, murmuring soft reassurances. I didn’t think.
I was moving before my mind caught up.
I took the steps down two at a time, crossed the lawn with long strides, and knelt beside them, careful not to overwhelm, careful not to steal the moment from Valentina.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly.
Clara looked at me with watery eyes, breathing too fast, still startled.
“It hurt, Uncle Enrico,” she sniffled, holding up her knee—red and scraped.
Something tightened painfully inside my chest.
A protective instinct—deep, automatic—flared to life in me before I even understood it was there.
With a gentleness I didn’t know I had, I took her small knee carefully, checking for anything more serious, brushing dirt away with my fingertips.
“It doesn’t look too bad, princess,” I murmured.
Valentina watched every movement, surprise flickering across her face, but she didn’t pull Clara away. Clara watched me too, her sobs slowly easing as I stayed calm and steady.
“How about we put a really cool bandage on it?” I offered, lifting my eyes to Clara. “One of the fun ones.”
She nodded slowly, trusting me—timidly, cautiously.
And when I glanced at Valentina, she gave the smallest silent agreement.
In that moment, something moved through me that I’d never experienced before.
It felt like a dormant part of me had finally woken up—reminding me of the person I could have been.
The father I still had a chance to become.
When I helped Clara to her feet, my eyes met Valentina’s briefly.
There was something in that look—something deep and sharp and far beyond words.
And for one dangerous second I understood with brutal clarity:
Recovering the time I’d lost with my daughter wasn’t the only thing I wanted.
I shoved the thought away immediately, the guilt a hard slap.
I didn’t deserve more than what I was being allowed.
***
I had just finished in the mansion’s private gym—my heart still pounding from the workout, sweat cooling on my skin—when my phone buzzed on the counter.
I didn’t recognize the number.
For a moment I considered ignoring it.
Then something—instinct, maybe, or the unconscious desire to outrun my own thoughts—made me answer.
“Hello?”
A short, hesitant silence.
Then a voice I hadn’t expected to hear.
“Enrico? It’s me. Matteo.”
The surprise hit fast.
Matteo was my youngest brother, and the most distant one. Years ago, he’d taken control of his own life and reduced contact with Eloá to the bare minimum. He stayed just present enough that she couldn’t torment him into submission.
Matteo didn’t call.
Not like this.
“Matteo?” I asked cautiously. “Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened.” Another pause—uncomfortable. “Actually… I heard about you and Eloá.” His tone turned sharper. “I heard you finally opened your eyes and cut her off.”
A bitter smile tugged at my mouth as I wiped my face with a towel and walked out onto the balcony, the late afternoon breeze cooling my skin.
“Took me long enough, didn’t it?”
“Only a few years,” Matteo replied dryly—but there was something like empathy in it. “Are you okay?”
I exhaled, my gaze drifting to the garden below where I’d been just minutes ago with Valentina and Clara. Thinking of them brought me an unexpected sense of steadiness.
“I’m better than I thought I’d be,” I admitted. “Eloá didn’t take it well. Especially after I canceled Dreamland.”
Matteo let out a low whistle.
“You actually canceled it?” he said. “I saw the headlines but assumed it was spin.”
“It’s real,” I said. “And the board hated it.”
“I’m sure they did.”
“It cost me my CEO seat,” I added, voice steady. “Most of the board didn’t agree with my… new priorities. Eloá did everything she could to make it worse.”
A beat.
“And was it worth it?” Matteo asked.
Below us, Clara’s laughter floated up from the garden.
“Yes,” I said, and it came out without hesitation. “More than you can imagine.” I exhaled. “I don’t think I lost anything. I gained.” Then, quieter: “I’m trying to get back what I missed.”
“You have a niece,” I added.
“I heard,” Matteo admitted. I let out a short, dry laugh.
“André has a big mouth.”
“Yeah,” Matteo said. “That’s why I never tell him anything about my life.”
I chuckled despite myself.
“How are you?” I asked—real curiosity behind it, something I couldn’t remember offering him in a long time.
“I’m… going,” Matteo said.
“Going where?” I frowned.
He exhaled like he was shrugging.
“When you don’t know where you’re headed, anywhere works.”
“Maybe you should figure it out.”
“I’m trying,” he said. “Have been for a while.” Then a long, thoughtful silence. “But I didn’t call to talk about me.” His voice shifted. “I want to know about you. When you’re not with… your family… what do you do now that you’re not the powerful CEO?”
Two words lit something inside me with a strange, uncontrollable satisfaction.
My family.
“Good question,” I said, clearing my throat when I realized I’d been silent too long.
“I’m trying to figure that out.” I watched the garden again.
“So far my time has been spent trying to undo the damage I did to Valentina and Clara.” My voice turned honest, stripped.
“I don’t know who I am outside of that yet. ”
The silence that followed was long—but not uncomfortable.
For the first time, it felt like real understanding existed between us.
“You know,” Matteo said finally, “when I walked away from Eloá… I didn’t know who I was for a while either.
” A soft exhale. “But I can tell you this—it gets better. Slowly you find out who you are without her shadow over you.” He paused.
“I still may not know where I’m going. But I know exactly where I refuse to go back to. ”
Emotion tightened my throat. I swallowed before answering.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “That actually means a lot coming from you.”
Matteo took a breath, still awkward in the way he always was, but he didn’t retreat.
“Don’t make this too sentimental,” he muttered. “I just wanted to say… I’m here. If you need to talk or whatever. I know what you’re dealing with.”
A small smile formed at the corner of my mouth—relief I didn’t expect.
“Thanks, Matteo. I’ll remember that.”
He hesitated, then let his tone lighten slightly.
“Better late than never, Enrico. Talk to you later.”
The call ended before I could reply.
But his last words stayed with me for hours.
Better late than never.
***
I signed the last of the documents and slid them across the desk toward André, who sat opposite me with an expression of disbelief.
He flipped through them quickly, then exhaled and shook his head.
“Honestly, Enrico… I still can’t believe you did this,” he said, looking up. “I never thought I’d see the day you voluntarily gave up the CEO position.”
I leaned back in my chair, and for the first time in years, a strange calm settled in my chest.
“Neither did I,” I admitted quietly, staring out the window. “But it had to be done. I spent my entire life chasing everyone else’s expectations.” I exhaled. “I think I’m done.”
André studied me.
“You don’t miss it?” he asked. “The influence. The power. The control?”
I considered the answer carefully.
“Of course I do,” I said. “But I’m starting to realize what I lost chasing those things was worth more than any of it.” My gaze went distant. “Power and influence aren’t what matter to me anymore. Maybe they never were.”
André smiled, satisfied.
“It’s good to hear you say that.”
I returned a faint smile, then looked away. André seemed to understand what was happening inside me, and the strange comfort of being understood was… unsettling, but real.
“You’re doing really well with Clara,” André added. “I didn’t expect you to adjust to being a father this fast.”
“It doesn’t feel fast,” I said, and a painful ache tightened my chest. “I lost four years, André. That doesn’t go away.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But you’re trying.”
Then his expression shifted.
“And Valentina?” he asked carefully. “How are things between you two?”
My pulse jumped at her name. Images flashed: quick looks, small moments, stolen seconds when I thought no one noticed.
“Complicated,” I said honestly. “She doesn’t trust me.” I swallowed. “And I can’t blame her. But I’m trying. Every day.”
André watched me for a second too long.
Then he asked the question I’d been avoiding in my own mind.
“And you, Enrico?” he said. “What do you feel for her now?”
I opened my mouth, ready to deny it—to dismiss it—
But the truth was too solid to ignore.
I exhaled.
“I wish I could go back,” I admitted quietly. “I wish I could recover not just the time with Clara…” My voice tightened. “But with Valentina too.” I swallowed. “I want her trust back. The affection we had before everything.” The words came out like confession. “I want what I lost with her.”
André nodded, a small smile forming.