The Magnate's Redemption

Prologue

Oliver Ferraz

I take a deep breath, and once again yesterday’s memories hit me like a bolt of lightning.

I still can’t believe everything that happened.

How could I not have noticed Andréa was cheating on me?

If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.

I draw another deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself.

We were together for practically fourteen years, and I thought we’d get married, just like our parents wanted.

But apparently, fate has other plans—especially after what I witnessed.

Marriage is out of the question now.Make a fool of me? Never again.

My mind drifts back to yesterday. As I replay each detail, I realize the memories are anything but pleasant. I feel like an idiot for believing so deeply in Andréa, for believing in our love—if it was even real love. After all, people who really love each other don’t lie.

The day before:

I looked at my hands as I opened the little box again—the one with the gorgeous ring I’d bought for my fiancée.

I admired it one more time. She already had a ring, but I wanted to impress her, wanted to mark the day I’d officially ask her to marry me—a day everyone had been waiting for, our family and friends.I walked through my apartment and headed straight for the door.

I was nervous, though I couldn’t quite figure out why—I’m usually a calm guy.

Maybe it was the weight of the moment: a major step in our relationship.

“Let’s do this, Oliver. It’s time,” I said to myself as I walked out and shut the door behind me.

I walked to the elevator and pressed the button.

Andréa had no idea I was on my way. I wanted to surprise her.I got in the car, started it up, and drove through the streets of New York, the cool breeze flowing through the window.

I’ve always loved this city. These years here taught me a lot, but I was ready to go back and take over the company from my father—he was long overdue for retirement.

I arrived at the building where my fiancée lived.

We had separate places, but we were always together.

Soon that would change: we’d be married, happy.

The thought made me smile. I called the elevator, rode up to her floor, and punched in the door code.

Everything seemed normal. I closed the door behind me and headed straight for the bedroom.

But something made me stop. I heard voices.

“Baby, Oliver’s not coming here—we agreed to meet up later. So come on, make me come with that delicious mouth of yours.”

My body went cold.

“You’re so hot… Now I get why you come looking for me. That loser doesn’t look like he can handle all of this.”

“Stop talking and suck me already.”

The voice. I knew it. It was that bastard Alex—our charismatic friend, our buddy since we’d moved here.

How could I have been such an idiot?

It felt like a knife to the chest. Him of all people—someone I’d trusted blindly. And her… How did that slut have the nerve? I’d always given her everything. I never expected anything like this.

My stomach churned. I could have left without demanding an explanation. But no. I needed to face them, see their faces.

I threw the door open.

Andréa jumped. Alex, so focused on his “work,” didn’t even notice at first. I decided to ruin his fun with a touch of irony.

I started clapping.

“Congratulations to the happy couple! I have to say, I expected more from you, Andréa. Alex of all people? This loser? What else should I expect from you two?”

She stared at me, startled, her voice shaking:

“O-Oliver… what are you doing here?” she stammered, eyes wide, staring at me in the doorway.

Alex, the “best friend,” lifted his head, startled and speechless.

“I came here so we could finally set our wedding date,” I said, glancing at the little box in my hand.

“It was supposed to be a surprise. But the only one surprised was me—the cuckold. I see you’re pretty busy fucking our ‘best friend.’” I made air quotes with my fingers.

“Sorry to interrupt your wonderful blowjob.”

I turned to leave. She came after me, wrapped in a sheet, begging me to wait. I decided to hear whatever lame excuse she had.

“Oliver, sweetheart, it’s not what you think. Let’s talk—I’ll just get dressed and we can go somewhere,” she said, shameless as ever.

All I felt was disgust. Revulsion. All that love evaporated in seconds.

“Sorry, Andréa, but there’s no explanation for this.

I wasn’t even going to put myself through this scene.

But I decided to humiliate myself, open that door, and make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

I wonder how you had the nerve to throw years of being together in the trash.

People who love each other don’t hurt each other.

And you sure did a great job of hurting me.

You always knew I never forgive betrayal.

You got what you wanted: you destroyed everything we had, including our wedding. ”

Tears streamed down her face, but they didn’t move me anymore.

“But we’re going to get married, Oliver. You can’t throw away all those years together over something trivial. We’ll be back in Brazil soon. What are we going to tell our parents?” she sobbed.

“I’m going to tell the whole truth. And you should do the same. Our wedding is canceled. I won’t marry a slut who doesn’t respect me. You made your choice, Andréa.”

“Don’t insult me! Alex and I slipped up, and that’s it. You never pay attention to me—all you think about is your damn degree!” she shouted, turning the tables.

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, I’m focused. I’m going to take over my father’s company. You know that. If you can’t keep it together, don’t blame me. Goodbye, Andréa. Don’t contact me again.”

I left, slamming the door.

I called the elevator, went down, and got in my car.

I sped through the streets of New York until I found the first bar I could.

I needed a drink. Fury consumed me, along with the disappointment of having given my whole life to someone like Andréa.

Our relationship had always been harmonious—until that day.

I walked into the bar and sat in the first available seat at the counter.

The bartender gave me a strange look, like he already knew everything that had happened.

And I just vented to him—a complete stranger.

He served me the first of many glasses of whiskey.

By the time I was downing my fourth, that amber liquid mixing with the tears I was fighting to hold back, he said:

“Anyone I can call to pick you up?” I shook my head. “Then leave your keys here. Tomorrow, when you’re feeling better, come get your car.”

“Am I that bad?” I asked.

“Not yet, but I know you will be.”

“I trusted her. I gave her all my love, only to be betrayed in the end.”

“It must be hard, my friend. Take this moment for yourself. Drink, cry… but tomorrow, hold your head up and move on with your life. She doesn’t deserve all this pain you’re going through!” I looked at him again and gave a bitter smile as he poured me another glass.

By the sixth—or seventh—I’d lost count. I couldn’t remember anything after that.

And I have no idea how I got home.

I woke up the next day with a headache, took a cold shower, and made myself some strong coffee. I needed to tell my parents, but not today. They adored Andréa. They’d be disappointed when they found out. So was I. But life goes on.

As for Andréa, I didn’t even want to hear her name. I blocked everything. And I decided to leave that very week.

I won’t lie: it hurt. But it would pass.

And so a new Oliver Ferraz was born.From now on, women would only get sex from me. I would use them, just as they had used me.

I just didn’t expect that along the way, I would meet Alice—someone with a captivating sweetness and an intensity simmering just beneath the surface, capable of showing me what true love really is.