Chapter 2
1192 Words
I barely slept.
Even with blackout curtains drawn and silence all around me, my head wouldn’t shut up. Too many thoughts. Too many things left unsaid.
Mostly his voice.
“You never lost yourself.”
Easy for him to say. He never had to be molded into someone else just to make everyone around him comfortable.
I stood by the window, barefoot, watching the city light up as the sun broke through the skyline. From up here, everything looked calm. Controlled.
But I knew better.
Control is just the illusion people with power like to sell to those who never had it.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
BLAIRE LOPEZ
You alive? You looked iconic last night. Like someone who’s about to set the boardroom on fire. Love that for you.
I smiled, just a little. Blaire always got it.
Survived. Slightly more dramatic than necessary. Might torch a legacy today. Coffee first.
I tossed the phone aside and took a deep breath. I already knew what today would bring.
Meetings. Messages. Legal teams are acting politely. And probably Rafael.
Let them come. I wasn’t in the mood to play nice.
—
By midmorning, I was in the study my grandfather’s old office. It still smelled faintly like old books and control. They’d tried to renovate it. Sleek furniture, minimalist design. But the air here always felt heavy.
I sat behind the desk, flipping through a few old documents. Most of them didn’t matter. But I liked being in this seat. The one they tried to keep me away from.
Another knock.
“Ma’am, Mr. Sarmiento is here.”
Of course he is.
“Let him in.”
Rafael walked in like he’d never left. Calm, straight posture, not even a hint of hesitation. He was always good at walking into rooms like he owned them.
He didn’t sit until I looked up.
“You stayed,” he said, settling across from me.
“I live here,” I replied, not bothering to hide my sarcasm.
“I thought you’d disappear again.”
I leaned back in the chair. “You thought wrong.”
There was a pause. The kind where he was deciding whether to push further or not.
“I’m here to talk about options,” he finally said.
“Of course you are.”
He placed a folder on the desk. Slim. Neat. Just like him.
This version of the deal removes you from any board responsibilities. You keep your shares, no public involvement. It’s clean. Quiet. No strings.”
“So I vanish, but you get to say I approved it?”
“It protects you,” he said. “And it keeps things moving.”
I didn’t touch the folder.
“I’m not interested in being protected.”
“You’ve made that clear,” he replied, watching me carefully. “But you are still part of this, whether you like it or not.”
“Only because they need my name.”
“And because you haven’t walked away.”
I held his gaze. “You think, just because I’m still here, I’ve agreed to anything?”
“I think if you wanted to walk away,” he said, “you wouldn’t be sitting in that chair.”
That shut me up for a second. Because maybe, on some level, he was right.
I didn’t answer. I just looked down and realized I had opened the folder without thinking.
I didn’t even realize I’d opened the folder until I saw my name printed on the first page.
Clean font. Clean terms. Clean erasure.
No board seats. No press statements. No voice.
Just a signature. Just the illusion of choice.
I looked up at Rafael. “You think this is what I want?”
“I don’t think you want anything they’re offering,” he said. “But I think you’re tired.”
He said it so casually, but it landed harder than he probably meant it to.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
Tired didn’t even begin to cover it.
Tired of being talked about like I wasn’t in the room.
Tired of watching people make decisions for me, in my name.
Tired of looking like I belonged in a world that never made space for who I was.
But I didn’t need him to say it out loud.
“You’re mistaking quiet for surrender,” I said, closing the folder.
“I’m not. I’m just offering you an easier way out.”
“And you think I want out?”
He didn’t answer. Which told me everything.
I stood from my chair and walked over to the window. From here, you can see the whole estate— the gardens, the pool, the wide driveway where we used to sneak out in his car when everything still felt possible.
“Do you remember the last time we were in this room?” I asked.
He didn’t say anything right away.
Then, quietly, “Yeah. I do.”
It had been the night before our engagement announcement. Everyone else had left. We stayed up late. No suits. No cameras. Just us and a stupid takeout box on this desk.
“I told you I wasn’t ready,” I said, still watching the world outside. And you said it didn’t matter. That we’d figure it out.”
“I meant it,” he said.
“I know.”
And maybe that was what made everything worse.
Because part of me wanted to believe him. Maybe we could figure it out. That maybe love, or something like that, would be enough to survive the machine we were both born into.
But I left anyway.
And I never looked back.
Until now.
I turned around to face him. “What do you want from me, Rafael?”
He didn’t blink. “Truth?”
“Always.”
“I want this deal to go through. I want our families to stop bleeding each other out over a legacy neither of us wrote. And yeah—I want you to sign. But I don’t want to force you. I’m not them.”
“No,” I said, walking back toward the desk. “You’re not.”
He waited.
I picked up the folder again. Then, calmly, I tore the first page down the middle.
Rafael didn’t flinch. But I saw the shift in his eyes.
“I’ll sign,” I said, dropping the torn paper on the desk. But not on something written for me. If they want my name, they’ll deal with my terms.”
“And what are those?”
“You’ll find out when I’m ready to write them.”
We stood there, locked in something neither of us could name. Respect? Frustration? A little of both.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.
“I always did,” I replied. “You just weren’t paying attention.”
And this time, I walked out first.
Not because I was angry.
But because I finally understood what it meant to hold power—
Not just to have a seat at the table…
But to decide which table even mattered.
- Writer
