“Is Tessa’s family rich?” Diana asked.
— Absolutely. And Garrett’s business is failing. He’s been embezzling money, hiding losses. Her family is about to invest a million reais based on false projections. If we don’t say anything, they’ll lose everything.
Rebeca shook her head slowly.
So this isn’t about revenge. It’s about protecting them.
— Partly. But mostly, it’s about the truth. Garrett has been lying to everyone. To you, to Tessa, to her family, to his associates. Someone needs to stop him.
Who else knows about the evidence?
— Marcos Caldeira. Garrett’s partner. He was the one who documented everything. He wants to help. He feels guilty for not speaking up during his divorce.
— I remember Marcos. He always seemed nice, though uncomfortable around Garrett sometimes.
He was. He is. He wants to fix things.
They talked for hours, made plans, revised plans. When Diana left, it was already past midnight.
Juliano got up to leave as well.
“Stay,” Rebecca said softly.
He looked at her.
– He is sure?
No. But it stays that way anyway.
He stayed.
They lay down on her small bed, without touching each other, just being together.
“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” Rebecca said in the darkness.
— And the cafeteria?
— Yes.
— You rushed in, hair all over the place, bag slipping off your shoulder. You ordered a large, black coffee, no sugar. The barista said something and you laughed. A real laugh. Not polite, genuine. And I thought: “Yeah, I want to meet this person. The person who laughs like that.”
— So I spilled coffee all over your laptop.
— Best spilled coffee of my life.
She turned to face him.
Why me? You could have anyone. Models, actresses, CEOs. Why a broke single mother in a coffee shop?
Because you’re real. Because when I talk to you, I’m not Juliano Ashford, the tech mogul. I’m just Juliano. Just me. And you like me anyway.
I like you. That’s the problem.
— How is that a problem?
Because liking you means trusting you. And trusting you means risking everything. And I don’t know if I could survive being broken again.
He turned to face her.
So don’t think about forever. Just think about now. This moment. Are you okay now?
— Yes.
That’s enough then. We’ll worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes.
She kissed him. Softly, gently, full of fear and hope and promise.
As they fell asleep, she dreamed of weddings, of cream-colored invitations, of entering a hall full of people who expected her to be small, and entering tall instead.
I have a choice. Take the evidence to court and drag him through hell, or show up at that wedding and let him see what he threw away. Both seem like justice. Neither seems sufficient.
—
Part 3: The Truth Emerges
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