Chapter 17
I should have been used to meetings like this. Spacious rooms, leather chairs, men in tailored suits speaking carefully, as if every syllable were a chess move. But this time, the knot in my throat wasn't just from the formal setting or the pressure of politics. It was because of him.
The party president, a man with a calculating gaze and a deep voice, sat across from me, his hands folded on the table. Beside him, advisors exchanged knowing looks, as if they already knew what was coming.
“Glória, we need to talk about Fernando.”
My body tensed, but I kept my expression neutral.
“What happened?”
He leaned slightly forward, his voice heavy with anticipation.
“He's polling strong. Stronger than we expected. He has charisma, presence… and his grief draws sympathy.”
My breath caught for a second.
“His grief?”
The president nodded, as if discussing a campaign asset rather than real pain.
“Women adore him. They want to protect him, want to see him start over. But we need to start building that narrative.”
My stomach turned.
“And what exactly does that mean?”
He exchanged a glance with one of the advisors before continuing:
“We want him to do an interview about his grief. Something sincere but controlled. Nothing too exploitative—just enough to humanize him even more.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
I knew how much Fernando hated this kind of exposure. He'd always been private, especially when it came to the woman he'd lost. For him, this wasn't just political strategy. It was a wound.
I crossed my arms, trying to contain my discomfort.
“He won't accept.”
“That's why we need you to convince him.”
Those words hit me like a punch.
Me.
They knew I was the only person who might get him to change his mind. And they'd use that without a shred of shame.
Before I could respond, I heard a noise at the door. My heart stopped for a second when I saw Fernando there, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes locked on me.
He'd heard everything.
The silence stretched for a few seconds that felt like an eternity.
“I'm not going to do this,” he said, his voice low but firm.
The president sighed, as if he'd already expected that reaction.
“Fernando…”
“No.”
His eyes were hard, leaving no room for negotiation. But I knew him too well. That wasn't just pride. It was pain.
My chest tightened.
“The choice is yours,” the president said, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “But think about it.”
Fernando didn't respond. He just gave me one last look before leaving the room.
I stayed where I was, a bitter taste in my mouth.
“You need to convince him, Glória.”
Those words settled like a weight on my shoulders.
I knew it was the best thing for his career.
But God, I wanted so badly for him not to have to go through this.
I spent the rest of the day trying to sort through my thoughts. The meeting had ended hours ago, but the president's words kept echoing in my head.
Fernando was pulling away. I could feel it. But at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to cut the invisible thread that kept us connected.
When I finally got a moment alone in my office, I let out a tired sigh and closed my eyes for a moment.
“Are you busy?”
My breath caught.
I looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his expression serious.
“Never for you,” I replied, my voice softer than it should have been.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, but kept his distance.
“So you're going to do this? You're going to try to convince me to talk about something I don't want to?”
I wanted to lie. I wanted to say no.
But lying to him was impossible.
“It's the best thing for your career, Fernando.”
He let out a bitter laugh.
“My career. Of course.”
I stood up, walking toward him, even knowing it was dangerous to be so close.
“I don't want to hurt you.”
He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated.
“But you're going to do it anyway, aren't you?”
The pain in his voice hit me harder than I expected.
“Do you trust me?” I asked.
He hesitated for a second.
“I trust you. But that doesn't mean I like what's happening.”
I understood. God, how I understood.
All I wanted was to stay by his side. But at the same time, I knew the world wouldn't let us have that.
“Think about it. That's all I'm asking.”
He stared at me for a long moment before finally letting out a defeated sigh.
“See you later, Glória.”
And he left.
The silence he left behind was unbearable.
I had done what was right.
But for the first time, doing the right thing hurt more than I could bear.
The day had already dragged on too long when I was called back to the party president's office. I knew it wouldn't be to discuss anything else—it was still about Fernando. Everything revolved around him now.
I took a deep breath before going in. My exhaustion wasn't physical—it was emotional. A weariness that seemed to build up in my chest, making everything feel heavier.
The president sat behind his massive dark wood desk, tablet in hand. Beside him, an advisor leafed through documents, as if this were just another routine decision.
“Glória, have a seat.”
I obeyed without a word.
He turned the tablet toward me, revealing a list of names with photos.
“I want you to choose one of these women to become a regular presence at party events.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“We need a face to represent the feminist wing of our base—someone charismatic enough to draw attention, but who also knows how to play it smart.”
I leaned in for a better look at the list. Women from all different backgrounds: lawyers, activists, academics, young political leaders. Some I knew by sight, others only by name.
“And why me?”
The president smiled—a smile that offered no comfort, only strategy.
“Because you understand the game, Glória. And because you're close to the governor.”
I crossed my arms.
“This is about creating a narrative for him, isn't it?”
The president didn't deny it.
“A strong female figure by his side can reinforce the image of a progressive government—something we need to lock in support from young voters.”
A bitter taste filled my mouth.
“So that's it? A symbol?”
He shrugged.
“A symbol can be very powerful.”
Anger swelled inside me.
I knew how politics worked, but watching the pieces being moved like this made me want to scream.
And the worst part?
I knew he was right.
Fernando needed this. Even if he hated to admit it.
Even if I hated being part of this manipulation.
I swallowed my frustration and looked at the names on the screen again.
If I had to choose someone, at least I'd make a choice that mattered.
I slid my finger across the screen, studying each woman.
And then I tapped a name.
“Her.”
The president looked at the photo and smiled, satisfied.
“Excellent choice.”
I stood up, feeling a weight in my chest.
“Anything else?”
He studied me for a moment before shaking his head.
“Not for today.”
I nodded and left the room.
The office was nearly empty at that hour. Most of the staff had already gone, but I still had work to do.
And more than anything, I had a man to convince.
Or perhaps, a man to lose.