Chapter 30
Months later...
The dry click of my laptop ending the videoconference was the only sound in the room before complete silence settled over my office at Fazenda Falc?o headquarters.
On the other end of that dark screen, the president of one of the country’s largest logistics companies had just discovered, in the worst possible way, that the new owner of Falc?o Holding didn’t bluff.
He’d tried to overcharge for grain transport from the cooperatives we now financed, believing I’d turn a blind eye in exchange for political favors—just like Jurandir used to.
I didn’t raise my voice once during the ten-minute meeting.
I simply told him that our holding had purchased the majority of his company’s bank debts the previous morning, and that if freight prices for small producers didn’t drop by half by the end of the day, I’d call in the guarantees and leave him without a single truck in his fleet.
The most feared and lethal man in national agribusiness.
That’s how the financial magazines in S?o Paulo had been describing me for the past six months.
A cold-blooded billionaire predator who didn’t accept bribes, didn’t take hostages at the negotiating table, and crushed any local power broker who dared exploit Mato Grosso do Sul.
I wore the armor of corporate tyranny with pride, using the fear my name inspired to ensure our lands operated with brutal integrity.
But the truth that Faria Lima and the financial market didn’t know was that the corporate monster vanished the instant I walked through that office door.
I glanced at the Swiss watch on my wrist. Five o’clock sharp. My workday was over.
I turned off the monitors, loosened my dark silk tie and tossed it on the glass desk. I unbuttoned the top buttons of my dress shirt and walked toward the private wing of the main house.
The golden light of the Pantanal sunset flooded the wide, freshly painted corridors. The smell of fresh coffee and cornmeal cake drifted from the kitchen, replacing the old odor of cigars and whiskey that had once permeated these walls.
When I reached the entrance to the main living room, I stopped.
I pulled the watch from my wrist and left it on the entry sideboard. Then I took off my custom-made Italian shoes, pushing them into the corner, followed by my socks. The king of the Pantanal stepped onto the soft, plush carpet completely barefoot, leaving all authority outside that room.
In the center of the room, surrounded by colorful pillows and stuffed animals, was my entire world.
Davi, our son, six months old, sat on the carpet, babbling away in very serious conversation with a cloth horse. His hair was a perfect mix of dark strands and copper highlights, and his eyes—huge and curious—were an exact, disarming copy of his mother’s.
I knelt on the floor and crawled across the carpet toward him.
“What are we discussing today, your majesty?” I asked, softening my voice to a gentle, ridiculous tone that would give any member of my board of directors a heart attack from the sheer reality check.
The little one turned his round face toward me. A toothless, radiant smile spread across his face, and he let out a high-pitched squeal of joy, stretching his chubby arms in my direction.
My heart melted like butter on a hot pan. I dropped onto all fours on the carpet, lowering my head so he could grab my hair. I let out a guttural laugh as he pulled the light strands with surprising strength.
“Careful with him, son. He thinks he runs the state, but we know who really makes the rules in this house.”
Rosário’s voice, laden with warm, velvety humor, came from the doorway.
I turned my face, still lying on the carpet, and the air rushed from my lungs with the same intensity as the first time I saw her.
Rosário was leaning against the wooden frame.
She wore a light, floral dress, her red hair loose and her feet bare.
The veterinary clinic in S?o Paulo operated at full capacity under Fernanda’s direction—another woman sheltered by P.O.
Box 104—while Rosário managed the most complex cases and the new animal rescue foundation we’d set up on the ranch itself.
She was radiant, powerful, and the absolute owner of every inch of these lands.
“If your Swiss investors walk into this room right now, Jo?o Bento, the holding’s stock will plummet,” she joked, crossing her arms, her green eyes shining with adoration as she watched the scene.
“Let them sell the stock,” I replied, smiling broadly, sitting up on the carpet and pulling our son into my lap, kissing his chubby cheeks until I made him laugh again. “The financial market works for me. I work exclusively for you.”
Rosário laughed—a melody that was still my favorite sound in the universe—and walked over to us. She sat on the floor, settling gracefully beside me, and rested her head on my shoulder.
I wrapped my free arm around her waist, pulling her closer, kissing the top of her head with a devotion that only grew with each passing day.
The oppressive image of Jurandir Falc?o, the darkness of captivity, and the tears shed at the auction were just scars from a war we had won overwhelmingly.
I was the richest, most feared, and most relentless man in that state, but sitting on the floor of that room, with wrinkled clothes and a cleansed soul, I was the most submissive and surrendered creature ever to walk the Earth—and I had no intention of hiding it.
“I tightened the noose on the northern transport company today,” I murmured, resting my chin on her hair, watching our son try to bite his own foot. “The cooperative will have freight at cost until the end of the year. The region is clean.”
“You're a terrorist in a suit, Jo?o Bento,” Rosário replied, lifting her face to look at me, a proud smile playing on her lips. “My father would be raising a glass to every bankruptcy you bring down on those ranchers.”
“I promised I'd be your shield and your sword,” I reminded her, sliding my hand along her face, caressing her soft skin with my thumb. “The world out there bows to me. But I bow only to you. Forever.”
Rosário smiled, her gaze brimming with the same voracious passion that had united us amid the storm.
She leaned in and kissed me—slow, deep, and breathtaking—a silent promise that our empire of light had only just begun.
And as our son's small hands patted my chest, demanding attention, I knew that the crown of Fazenda Falc?o had never been my true prize.
My prize was being there, on my knees, surrendered to the love of the two women who had saved my life.