14 - ADAM
The signing of the agreement with the Germans goes smoothly. Almost immediately, the numbers climb with significant improvements, propelling Devereaux-Stahlberg International forward. All our sectors are firing on all cylinders.
After the honeymoon in Germany—we combined business with pleasure—I find myself at the celebration of our resounding business success at my parents' mansion.
I see only happy faces until I run into Aunt Olivia and Uncle Omar, who ask me to talk to Olavo.
He didn't come. Idiot. He's nothing but an idiotic kid.
Even without one of my best friends here, I try to cheer up.
It's all for show—the happiness I envisioned months ago never arrived, never filled me.
I expected it to come at this moment, fooling myself into thinking I'd be fine.
Although the days with Laura haven't been entirely bad, I kept myself busy with work—couldn't avoid it anyway.
We were in a new phase and still without a president for the construction division.
I took on three roles. I watched countless tutorials on how to forget someone.
I practice daily mantras. Besides the gym, I attend yoga classes.
Now, everything's perfect and utterly tasteless.
I already knew Olavo had decided to prioritize a stranger, but I wasn't prepared for what would come from David.
After yet another board meeting pressuring me to appoint a new CEO—yes, that's how they put it, implying that despite the merger and the growth, this is still a family business where the Devereauxs call the shots—David enters my office, sits down, and begins.
“I did what I could, Adam. Olavo won't budge, and honestly, I don't think he should come back.”
“You don't think so, or you don't want him to?” I suspect there's something more behind this insistence on not returning and David's resistance.
My only remaining childhood friend fidgets with his long hair, ties it up again. The classic tic. He carefully recounts the disasters Olavo caused in the name of fun at the bachelor party they threw for me. I freeze.
Lara wasn't a hooker? Not that this detail would make a difference to my marriage, but…
She wasn't selling herself. At the very least, I would have saved her job if I'd known.
Maybe not—I was furious about all the craziness that had taken over my life.
My life… and hers? The week we spent together…
No, nothing justifies the lie about the family. My mind reels.
“There's more,” David says, hammering another nail into my coffin.
I stay silent, waiting. “At the risk of losing your friendship forever, like Olavo”—one hammer blow—“I need you to know…
First, I was coerced. Second, I had no choice but to agree.
They were prostitutes. Your parents don't know this, of course. Nothing about the bachelor party and all the chaos that unfolded. What they do know is that they noticed something very wrong with you. They realized you were about to call off the wedding, putting Devereaux at risk. The entire merger down the drain.” Pause.
The hammer in the air. “Adam… your father isn't sick.” Another hammer blow.
“My parents and our aunts and uncles called Olavo and me to a secret dinner. They set everything up. I'm sorry.”
“The numbers, the discrepancies?” I ask calmly.
“Fake. I falsified everything. I don't know how you didn't notice.”
“Simple—because I trust you.” I correct myself without losing my composure. “Trusted.” He's a marble statue facing another icy one. “Lara's medical report.”
I say it as a statement, though it should be a question, because I already know the answer. David takes a moment to speak.
“It was her family, but your parents verified it, of course. Fake.”
“And they presented it to me as real, including to the press.”
David lowers his head, brings his hand to his mouth, rubs.
“I didn't leak that part. Too cruel. Even though I thought they were prostitutes. Olavo hadn't told me the truth yet.”
I wanted to laugh. Punch the son of a bitch. Two shitty friends.
“However, it's good to know the Devereaux family can count on you completely. You stayed until the end. You're here. You accomplished what Olavo couldn't. Should I congratulate you?”
David keeps looking at me. I don't flinch.
“No.”
“Right. You can go to your office, David. Thanks for clearing things up.”
“We…”
“Go to your office. There's a lot of work to be done.”
The door closes, as does my solitary coffin. At least my parents' marriage has love. I know it does. They also have loyal friends, including their children. What have they condemned me to? What have I condemned myself to? It doesn't matter. Not anymore.
My parents gave me a bigger car, “for the family,” they said. I accepted. I've been accepting everything. As long as everyone's happy and business prospers. Wonderful, right?
Before I know it, I'm driving past her building.
Before I know it, I'm parked.
Before I know it, I'm in the elevator.
Before I know it, I'm talking with Bárbara, the neighbor who was traveling during the eleven days I spent there.
Now I know she and Olavo were in the Bahamas.
Olavo, that imbecile. The conversation flows easily.
She's a good woman. One I fired. She shows no resentment, no bitterness, only sadness.
She lost her friend in all this too. She confesses her feelings for my former childhood friend, former CEO, lifelong companion.
I realize I haven't seen him in months. She doesn't know where Lara is.
I advise her to reach out to Olavo, try to work things out—from what I understand, he's not with anyone.
“He’s getting married in November,” I say. “His parents haven’t backed down on that, because my mother is going full steam ahead with new preparations.” I venture to touch her hand. “Don’t make the same mistake that...”
The apartment door opens, and I see the brunette from the club—the one who fainted at my wedding—come in. Suddenly, Bront? pads delicately across the floor, curling around my legs. I pet the little cat, and she jumps into my lap. I smile at her.
“I think I’m finally seeing that Adam from the club, the guy Lara fell in love with,” I hear Bárbara say. “He loves Lara, Pri. He was telling me that.”
“If you really love Lara, you should divorce Laura and prove what you’re saying with actions, even if you don’t end up together.
Because until then, all I see is the opposite.
” Priscila is surgical. “You and your little friends love to say we ruined your lives, that we only cause problems. Oh, poor you, right?! Guess what, buddy—who’s the one out on the street, looking for a job? ”
“Priscila!”
“He needs to face the harsh reality, Barbs! There’s no point in playing the victim while he keeps living the easy life with his little wife and his unshakeable tower scraping his perfect sky.”
I think Lara would never abandon the cat, yet she left her with people she still trusts, somehow. She’s definitely far away and doesn’t want to be found.
“It’s okay, Bárbara. I appreciate the honesty, Priscila. What’s done is done.”
I hand the cat to Bárbara and leave, but not before making sure she gets her job back.
In short, my life becomes automatic.
For two years I’ve been jumping from meeting to meeting, business trips, piling on responsibilities, dinners with my parents, quick fucks with my wife.
Laura. Why did their damn names have to be so similar?
If it weren’t for the U, the dark hair, the blue eyes, the thin body...
Lara. She would be Lara. I take another pill.
The door to my office opens. I think it’s David, but he doesn’t barge in like that anymore, much less at my house.
Yes, I still keep my bachelor pad, where I can breathe a little.
The mansion with Laura is—sweet if you get it right—sweet...
Candy...—in the same gated community as her in-laws.
We bought one for my in-laws too. We’ve already gotten some complaints from the HOA. They were notified. We paid some fines.
Nicolas or Natanael enters. At first, it’s always hard to tell them apart.
Laura says one has a more prominent jaw, the other has his hair like this or that—I never know.
The moonlight makes him look even paler.
He’s wearing a dark suit, classic black shoes, white shirt half-unbuttoned, loose tie.
His walk to my desk is nonchalant. No, I have no idea who it is.
“How did you—?” Nobody knows I still keep this house.
“I have my tricks, brother-in-law.” The deep voice tells me I won’t like this visit, this invasion.
It’s Nicolas. “Word reached me that someone hasn’t been making an effort to expand the family.
” He rests his foot on the chair in front of my desk, elbow on his thigh, leaning toward me.
I wait. I won’t argue with him until there’s no alternative.
“If you tell me you’re gay, fine, but then you shouldn’t have married a woman.
A very hot one, by the way.” Is he really talking about his own sister like that?
What Lara told me about the family flashes through my mind. Impossible.
Nicolas starts pacing around the room in light, circular movements, leaving my mind in a whirlwind. He stops in front of the tall window. We’re on the second floor of my townhouse. Is he calculating the height?
“Have you ever tried jumping to see what it would be like?” He asks casually, as if it were really a joke. “That friend of yours... Olavo”—he pronounces the name with unmistakable menace—“he looks like someone who would try something like that.”
The moment I move a millimeter to stand up, he turns, pulling a revolver on me.
I stop. I step back. I don’t know anything about guns—knowing they kill is enough to keep me still as he calmly brings it closer and closer.
I feel the cold metal against my forehead.
I raise my eyes to Nicolas. I hold firm.
“Hurt my sister and I guarantee this beauty here or one of her little friends will do a fine job on you.”
“Which one?” I manage to speak as calmly as my breathing allows.
“Both of them, son of a bitch.” He presses the barrel against my head.
I understand—he knows about Lara too. How? Did she tell him? He leaves the same way he came in. Without anyone noticing.
I can’t report my brother-in-law, but I put the house up for sale. I’m starting to believe Lara’s version of what the family was like during her adolescence. I lost the one I should have helped, loved. All that’s left for me is to make sure Laura stays away from whatever her brother is involved in.
As I promised my wife, every year we go on a honeymoon to a different country. She chooses. I accept.
The first year, Germany—she couldn’t choose that one; it was mandatory for both of us. The second, Canada—she loved the cities we visited. The third, Australia.
We’re adjusting to the time zone in Sydney with some relaxed outings to start, all planned by Laura.
She used to be kind of obsessed with fun until she started joining me for yoga classes.
Now she also does pilates. It’s been good for the somewhat unruly spirit that runs in her family—a family I’ve been keeping my distance from.
Since the incident, I'd hired a top-notch security firm to discreetly protect my parents, uncles, and, why not, friends. That's how I knew Olavo and David were safe.