Then he assigned me the Queen’s project. He said it was my chance to shine. And shine I did. I poured my heart and soul into that project for 18 months. All my knowledge, all my creativity. I designed an integrated rainwater harvesting system, solar panels at optimized angles, cross-ventilation that reduces cooling costs by 40%. It was perfect. His voice cracked.
Two weeks before the final client presentation, Pizarro had me sign documents. He said they were administrative transfers, standard authorizations. I signed without reading. I trusted him. He betrayed me. A week later, the police came to my apartment. They said I had authorized fraudulent fund transfers. $300,000 diverted to shell accounts. My signature was on everything. Renata wiped away her tears in fury. Pizarro testified against me.
He said he discovered the fraud, that he confronted me, that I admitted it. Lies. All lies, but he had lawyers and evidence. I only had my word. He filed a criminal complaint six weeks ago, and a civil suit as well. My bank account was frozen. I lost my apartment because I couldn’t pay rent. The eviction process took a month.
I tried to get a job, but no one hires architects with pending criminal charges. Family, friends. I don’t have any family. And when you fall so quickly, you find out who really knew you. No one answered my calls. Sebastián felt rage burning in his chest, not just for Pizarro, but for the entire system that allowed this. “Three weeks on the street,” Renata continued.
“I learned where the shelters are, how to avoid violence, what trash has value. I learned that the world ignores you when you have no direction, that you disappear.” “Not anymore!” Renata looked at him. “In a week I’m leaving. I’m going back to being invisible. And if you don’t have to leave, I don’t accept charity. I don’t offer charity. I offer work.” The silence fell like a hammer.
What? Sebastian leaned forward. Pacific Construction. Needs a sustainability consultant. Your designs are worth millions. Your ideas on energy efficiency are years ahead of the competition. I have pending criminal charges. There’s no arrest warrant yet, just a complaint and investigation. Technically, you’re clean until proven otherwise.
Your reputation is my reputation. I decide what to do with it. Renata stood up and walked away. Why? Why would you risk everything for a stranger? Sebastián stood up too and followed her. Because Pizarro destroyed eight innocent people. Because the system is broken.
Because my daughter asked a question that embarrassed me to my very core. He stopped in front of her. And because when I look at your designs, I see genius. I’m not going to let that genius die searching for cans in the trash. People are going to talk. They’re going to say you’re helping me for other reasons. Let them talk. Your board of directors. I work for them. They don’t control me. Renata studied him, searching for deception. Sebastián held her gaze.
“This isn’t a bailout,” he said. “It’s an investment. You produce, I pay. Simple.” Nothing is simple. “No, but it’s fair.” Renata closed her eyes. Sebastián saw the internal struggle unfold on her face. “Two conditions,” he said finally, “tell me, first, you pay me a market wage. Not charity. Real work for real pay.” “Done.”
Second, if this blows up, if your reputation suffers, I’ll resign immediately without a fight. I don’t accept that condition. Then, I don’t accept the job. Their wills clashed. “Modification,” Sebastian said. “If my reputation suffers, we’ll decide together what to do. You don’t make unilateral decisions.” Renata considered this. She nodded slowly. She tried.
She extended her hand. Sebastian took it. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through his arm; he let go quickly, too quickly. “I want you in the office on Monday. We have a social housing project that urgently needs redesigning. Today is Wednesday, which gives you five days to prepare. Do you need clothes, materials?” “I need everything. I lost everything. Lorenza will help you with clothes.”
My assistant will get you a laptop, design software, whatever you need. Renata shook her head. Inc. This is crazy. You’ll probably regret it. I doubt it. In her office, Maritza Escobar was reading Sebastián Olmedo’s email for the board of directors for the fifth time. Subject: New hire, sustainability consulting.
Dear colleagues, I am pleased to inform you that I have hired Renata Salazar as a senior sustainability consultant on Monday. Ms. Salazar is an award-winning architect specializing in ecological design. Maritza clicked the mouse until her knuckles turned white. She knew that name. The entire industry knew that name.
The architect accused of fraud, the ruined woman, the one who had disappeared weeks ago. And Sebastián hired her. He searched on Google. He found a photo of Renata from a year ago. Young, beautiful, blonde, smiling—everything Marita wasn’t at 45. He dialed Sebastián’s number.
It rang five times before she answered, “Yes, Maritza, I can see you. It’s urgent. I’m busy. It’s about the new hire. Silence. Then my office. 30 minutes.” Maritza hung up. She looked at herself in the mirror on her desk, lines around her eyes, brown hair with gray streaks that she dyed religiously, a body that fought every extra kilogram.
Five years in love with Sebastián Olmedo, five years waiting for him to notice she was more than just his girlfriend, to see that she understood him, that she supported him, that she could love him. Five years of hope slowly dying. And now this. She touched up her makeup, smoothed her tailored suit. When she arrived at Sebastián’s office, he was on the phone. She signaled for him to wait.
Maritza sat with her legs crossed. She practiced her professional smile. Sebastián ended the call. “Maritza, I know what you’re going to say. You’ve lost your mind.” The smile vanished. The rage she had held back for an hour exploded. “You hired a criminal, a woman accused of embezzlement. Do you have any idea of the damage to our reputation? She’s not a criminal until proven so. She has pending charges.”
Customers will flee, investors will flee. I’ve already made the decision. Then reconsider. No. Marita stood up, trembling. Why? Give me a reason that makes sense. Sebastián looked at her for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was cold. Because it’s the right decision for the company. Her designs are exceptional.
There are hundreds of exceptional architects without legal backgrounds, unlike her. What does she have that the others don’t? The question hung in the air. Maritza saw something cross Sebastián’s eyes, something that chilled her blood. Interest, protectiveness, something dangerously close to affection. Talent, Sebastián said. That’s all. But Maritza knew that look. She had seen it once, years before, when Sebastián was talking about his ex-wife before she left him.
“You made a mistake,” Maritza said, her voice trembling, “a huge mistake,” she blurted out before the tears fell. In the hallway, she leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths. She couldn’t lose him. Not like this, not over some homeless woman Sebastián had picked up off the street. She pulled out her phone, searched through her contacts, and found Ernesto Pizarro’s number. Her fingers hovered over the call button. This was crossing a line. She knew it.
But five years of unrequited love had twisted her heart. She pressed the call button for Maritza Escobar. Pizarro’s voice sounded surprised. “What a surprise! We need to talk,” she said about Renata Salazar. “I’m listening.” Maritza closed her eyes. Sebastián Olmedo just hired her. She starts Monday.
The silence on the other end was long. When Pizarro spoke, his voice dripped with satisfaction. Interesting. Very interesting. Thank you for the information, Maritza. Wait, I need something in return. What do you need? Help me destroy her. Remove her from his life. And why would I do that? Maritza swallowed. The truth came out in a whisper.
Because if I don’t, I’ll lose him forever. Pizarro’s laugh was soft, cruel. Unrequited love. I know that pain well. Very well, Maritza, let’s work together. What do you need me to do for now? Just observe. Report everything to me, especially if Renata makes any mistakes.
And believe me, he paused, everyone makes mistakes. Eventually, he hung up. Maritza waited for the phone to ring. She didn’t feel triumph, only emptiness. But the emptiness was familiar, and she was willing to live with it if it meant Sebastián would never look at another woman the way he had just looked at Renata Salazar.
The silence in the boardroom was louder than any shout. Renata kept her chin up as twelve pairs of eyes judged her. Sebastian had introduced her two minutes ago. No one had said a word since. “Any questions?” Sebastian asked, his voice dangerously calm. Maritza leaned forward, smiled, but her eyes were ice.
I have several, Miss Salazar. Is it true you have pending criminal charges? Renata felt everyone holding their breath. It’s true there’s a complaint. No formal charges have been filed yet. And I’m innocent. How convenient. All criminals say that, Maritza. Sebastian’s warning was clear. No, it’s fine. Renata looked directly at Maritza.
You’re right to ask. Ernesto Pizarro accused me of embezzlement after stealing my work. He forged my signature on fraudulent documents. The investigation will prove my innocence. And if it doesn’t? asked another board member, Ricardo Fuentes, 60 years old, with a stony face. Then I’ll resign immediately and face the consequences.
The consequences would include prison, Maritza said. Sebastián is asking us to risk this company’s reputation for someone who could be in jail in six months. I’m asking you to trust my judgment, Sebastián replied, as you have for eight years. Eight years in which you never hired criminals. I’m not a criminal. Renata’s voice came out louder than intended.
She took a deep breath. She controlled her temper. But I understand your concern. I propose this. Give me a month, a single project. If I don’t meet expectations, I’ll leave without severance pay. And regarding the reputational damage, Maritza insisted, I myself will issue a statement taking full responsibility. Sebastián and the company will be completely exonerated.
Sebastián looked at her in surprise. They hadn’t discussed this. Ricardo Fuentes drummed his fingers on the table. One month. One project. Do you have something specific in mind, Sebastián? The social housing development in Puente Alto. We’ve been stuck for three months. The current design doesn’t meet energy efficiency regulations without exceeding the budget. That project is dead, another member said. We canceled it last week.
Renata will revive it. Silence returned. Then Ricardo spoke. Very well, a month. But Maritza is right about one thing. If this blows up, you’ll get burned, Sebastián. Politically, professionally. I know. It’s worth it. Sebastián looked at Renata. She held his gaze, inwardly praying that he wouldn’t let her down. Yes, he said. It’s worth it. The meeting ended. The members left murmuring.
Maritza was the last to leave, giving Renata a look that promised war. When they were gone, Renata slumped into a chair. “My God, you did well. They hate me. They fear you. It’s different.” Sebastián turned around. “Thank you for standing up for us.” “Don’t thank me. Just keep your promise.” Renata nodded. Sebastián left, leaving her alone in the boardroom.
Through the glass, she watched the city spread out. Santiago shimmered in the January sun. Summer was in full swing, dry heat, clear skies. Two months ago, she’d been scavenging for food in the garbage. Now she had a chance to rebuild everything. She couldn’t fail. The scandal broke on Wednesday. Renata was in her new office when Sebastián walked in with a newspaper.
“Get ready,” she said, throwing it onto her desk. The headline screamed. “CEO of Pacífico construction company hires architect accused of fraud.” Renata read it quickly. The article speculated about a personal relationship between her and Sebastián. It mentioned that she lived in his house. It cited anonymous sources questioning Sebastián’s judgment. “Maritza,” Renata said. “Without a doubt.”
This is exactly what she feared. Sebastian sat on the edge of his desk. “Are you leaving? Do you want me to leave? I asked you first.” Renata studied his face. She saw determination, something deeper too, something that both frightened and excited her. She didn’t say, “I’m not leaving. I’m going to finish this project and shut everyone up.” Sebastian smiled.
A genuine, warm smile. That’s what she’d hoped for. The following days were hellish. Renata immersed herself in the Puente Alto project. She reviewed every plan, every specification, every budget. The problem was obvious. The original design treated energy efficiency as an add-on, not as a fundamental principle. It needed a complete redesign. She worked 18 hours a day.
Sebastián brought coffee at 10 p.m., finding her surrounded by blueprints. “You should rest,” he said. “I have three and a half weeks,” she replied. “Rest is a luxury, Renata. I have to prove to you, to the board, to everyone who read that article that it was worth it. You don’t have to prove anything to me.” She looked up. Exhaustion marked her face, but her eyes burned with determination.
“I have to, because if I fail, I won’t just destroy myself, I’ll destroy you.” Sebastian knelt beside her chair. “Look at me.” She obeyed. You’ve already won. Do you understand? The day you refused to accept handouts, the day you demanded a fair wage, the day you stood up to that board, you’ve already won. Pretty words don’t pay the bills. No, but talent does.
And you have talent to spare. Their faces were inches apart. Renata felt his breath. She saw his eyes drop to her lips. The moment stretched out. Intense, dangerous. The door opened. “Sebastián, I need you to sign.” Maritza froze. Her eyes darted between them. Sebastián standing next to Renata, too close. “Sorry,” Maritza said, her voice icy. “Am I interrupting?” “You’re not interrupting anything.”
Sebastian walked away quickly. “What do you need? It can wait.” He left. The door slammed shut. Renata let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “This can’t happen,” she said. “What?” “This is what almost happened, Sebastian. They already think there’s something between us. If there really is, there isn’t.” The words trailed off.
Renata told herself that what she felt was relief, not disappointment. Good, because I won’t be that woman who uses a man to escape poverty, the one everyone thinks I am. Sebastián looked at her for a long time. No one who knows you would think that. No one knows me. They only see what they want to see. He left without another word. Renata went back to her drawings, but the lines were blurring.
She told herself she was a liar. A liar, because she had felt something from the first moment Sebastián offered her chocolate through his daughter, from the moment he defended her at the meeting, from every night he brought her coffee and they stayed talking until dawn, but feeling wasn’t an option, not for her. Three weeks later, Renata presented her design. The boardroom was packed.
Board of directors, architecture team, engineers, and specialized press. Sebastián had warned her: this would be either a media circus, a triumph, or a public execution. Renata opened her presentation. The original design failed because it treated sustainability as cosmetic. My proposal makes it structural. She projected the first plan. Murmurs filled the room. North-south orientation. Optimizes passive heating.
Reduces heating costs by 35%. Next step: double-pane windows with low-emissivity glass, larger initial investment. Payback in 18 months. Next step: rainwater harvesting system integrated into foundations. Reduces municipal water consumption by 40%. Continued. Every element, every decision backed by numbers, not abstract theory. Real economics.
When it ended, the silence was absolute. Ricardo Fuentes spoke first. Total budget 3% higher than the original, but operating savings of 20% annually, payback in 5 years. It meets all regulations, exceeds them. This project would qualify for Lead Gold certification. Ricardo looked at Sebastián, then at Renata. Miss Salazar, this is exceptional.
The journalist from El Mercurio raised his hand. “One question: Is this design similar to Ernesto Pizarro’s project for the Queen?” The room tensed. Renata felt all eyes on her. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Because I designed that project as well. Pizarro stole my work. This design proves I can replicate and surpass what I created before.” “Do you have evidence of the theft?” “I have digital files with timestamps.”
I have emails. I have testimonies from former colleagues, and when the prosecutor finishes his investigation, I will have justice. Sebastián intervened. This conference is about the Puente Alto project, not about past litigation, but the damage was done, or the healing depended on tomorrow’s headline. Later, when everyone had left, Sebastián found Renata on the 20th-floor terrace.
She watched the city sprawl toward the mountains. “Did you do it?” he asked. “Not yet. Tomorrow the newspapers will decide if I was brilliant or arrogant. You were brilliant.” Renata turned. The afternoon sun illuminated her hair. In two months she had gained weight. Her face was no longer gaunt. She wore a navy blue pantsuit—professional, powerful.
Sebastián could barely remember the woman in Arapos searching through trash. Almost. Sebastián. Me. His phone rang. Ernesto Pizarro. Renata paled at the sight of it. Don’t answer. But Sebastián answered. He put it on speakerphone. Olmedo. Sebastián. Pizarro’s voice was like oil. I saw today’s presentation. Impressive. What do you want, Ernesto? To warn you, Renata Salazar is a toxic problem.
It will destroy your reputation. My reputation is my business, and your daughter is your business too, putting criminals under her roof. Sebastian gripped the phone. Careful, Ernesto. No, careful. You destroyed Renata once. I can do it again. And this time I’ll take you with you. Try it. Oh, I will. In fact, I’ve already started.
The call ended. Renata was trembling. “I warned you, I told you this would happen. That he’d threaten. He can’t touch you here. Are you sure? Because Pizarro always wins, he always gets his hands on her purse. Renata, wait. I need air, I need to think.” She left before he could stop her. Sebastián called Álvaro Pinto. “I need you to keep an eye on Ernesto Pizarro. Every move, every call. If he sneezes, I want to know.”
Did something happen? He just declared war. And you, Sebastián looked toward where Renata had disappeared. I agreed a long time ago. I just didn’t know until now. That night in his private office, Ernesto Pizarro poured whiskey into a cut glass. His lawyer, Felipe Torres, awaited instructions. I need information on Sebastián Olmedo. Finances, business, personal life, everything.
We’re looking for something specific. Weak points, everyone has them. Find yours. And Renata Salazar. Pizarro smiled. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Renata, it’s easy. I already destroyed her once. I know exactly where to strike. What do you want me to do? Hire private investigators. The best.
I need evidence that he’s doing something illegal. Industrial espionage, conflict of interest, anything. And if he’s not doing anything illegal—Pizarro takes a long sip—then we’ll make it look like he is. Felipe frowned. That’s risky. If they find out we fabricated evidence, they won’t find out. I’m very good at this. Or have you already forgotten the previous seven times?
Renata is different. She has protection now. Olmedo has resources. Everyone has a price. Felipe. Olmedo too. I just need to find it. Pizarro walked to the window. His office overlooked the queen’s project. The sustainable housing units shimmered under the nighttime lights. The project that had made him famous. The project Renata designed. She had been special.
More talented than the others. That’s why it hurt more when he had to destroy her, and now she was coming back. Stronger, protected, unacceptable. Is there anything else? Felipe asked. Maritza Escobar called. She wants to meet. The CFO of Pacífico. Yes, she says she has valuable information. Pizarro smiled. Interesting, very interesting. Schedule the meeting. When Felipe left, Pizarro made one more call.
Yes, a male voice answered. I need surveillance. Sebastián Olmedo and Renata Salazar. Photos, videos, conversations, if possible. Are you looking for something specific? Romance, infidelity, anything that proves an inappropriate relationship between boss and employee.
And if there’s nothing there, then create it—Photoshop, video editing, whatever it takes. But I need it to look real. Understood? This will cost. Money isn’t the issue, just get results. Ernesto Pizarro hung up. He had built an empire on the ruins of young architects. Eight in total. They had all tried to fight, they had all lost.
Renata Salazar would be the ninth, and this time she would take Sebastián Olmedo with her, because Pizarro had learned long ago that power wasn’t about creating, it was about destroying those who threatened your creation. And Renata, with her brilliant talent and unwavering sense of justice, was the greatest threat he had ever faced, but she would also be the most satisfying to destroy.
She took another sip of whiskey. The war had begun, and Pizarro never lost a war. The audience rose to their feet. Thunderous applause filled the space as Renata held the trophy with trembling hands, the national award for innovation in sustainable architecture. Again, but this time it was different. This time she wasn’t a hungry student with dreams, she was a scarred survivor.
“Thank you,” she said into the microphone, waiting for the noise to die down. “This award recognizes the Puente Alto project, but the truth is more complex.” She looked for Sebastián in the front row. He was looking at her with something that made her heart stumble. Three months ago, he had been scavenging for food in the garbage. He had lost everything: his career, his home, his dignity.
A man and his daughter gave me back the possibility of existing again. Her voice broke slightly. Sebastián Olmedo didn’t rescue me. He gave me the tools to rescue myself. That’s the real prize tonight. More applause. Sebastián smiled, but his eyes shone suspiciously. Later, at the reception, journalists surrounded them. It’s true that he lives at Mr. Olmedo’s house.
“I have an apartment on his property,” Renata corrected. “It’s a temporary arrangement while I resolve my legal situation.” Speaking of which, what’s the status of the charges? Sebastián interjected. “The prosecutor has reviewed forensic evidence. The inconsistencies in the signatures are obvious. We expect him to drop the charges within a month.” And their personal relationship—Renata felt a heat rise in her neck. “Professional.”
Purely professional. The journalist grinned like a shark smelling blood. So he denies a romance between you two. There’s nothing to deny because there’s nothing, Sebastián said curtly. Next question. In the car on the way back, the silence was thick. “Sorry,” Renata finally said. I shouldn’t have mentioned you in the speech. It only gave him more ammunition.
Don’t apologize. You told the truth. The truth makes them speculate. Sebastián glanced at her sideways. Do you care what they speculate? Renata opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn’t know how to answer without lying, because it did matter, because every time someone hinted at a romance, part of her wished it were true. And that was dangerous.
They arrived home after 11. Lorenza was waiting for them with a worried expression. Luciana had a nightmare. She didn’t want to go to sleep until Renata returned. Renata ran upstairs. She found Luciana sitting on her bed hugging a stuffed rabbit. “Hey, sweetie, what happened? I dreamt you were leaving. Like Mom.” Renata sat on the bed, hugging her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Do you promise?” The question was a trap. Renata couldn’t promise that. Her situation was temporary. Eventually, she would have to leave, but looking into those frightened eyes, she lied. “I promise.” Sebastián appeared in the doorway. He saw his daughter curled up against Renata, finally relaxing. Something changed in his expression, something deep and terrifying. When Luciana fell asleep, they went out into the hallway.
“This isn’t healthy,” Sebastian whispered. “She’s getting too close.” “I know.” “So what are we going to do?” “I don’t know.” They looked at each other. The distance between them was less than a meter. Sebastian raised his hand, brushing Renata’s hair. “Renata.” “No.” She moved away. “We can’t.” “You know we can’t?” “Why not?” “Because when this is over, when I leave, it will be harder for everyone.”
And what if I don’t want you to leave? The words hung in the air. Renata felt tears sting. Sebastian, please, don’t make this any harder than it already is. He went to his apartment, locked the door, leaned against it, tears streaming down his face. He was falling in love, and this was the worst thing that could happen.
Two weeks later, Maritza met with Ernesto Pizarro at a discreet café in Providencia. “I have what you need,” she said, sliding a USB drive across the table. Pizarro plugged it into his laptop. His eyes lit up as he reviewed files. Renata leaking confidential information, bank transfers to external accounts. “This is perfect.”
“It’s not real,” Maritza admitted. “I had to fabricate some things. How? I hired the IT assistant. I paid him to plant emails on the server. They’re from two months ago, but the metadata is fake.” Pizarro closed his laptop. “Does anyone else know? No one. The assistant quit yesterday. He moved to Argentina. He won’t talk. And the bank transfers.”
Shell accounts created last month. Small amounts. 50,000 in total. Enough to look like corporate espionage without being obvious. Pizarro studied Marita carefully. “Why are you doing this? What do you gain? I already told you. I want Renata out of his life. And then, do you think Sebastián will even look at you? That he’ll love you?” Maritza gripped her coffee cup. “Maybe not, but at least he won’t love her. Unrequited love.” Pizarro chuckled softly.
It’s poison, isn’t it? It eats you up inside until you’d do anything to stop it. You speak from experience, more than you’d admit. Fine, Marita, I’ll use this, but understand, once I start, there’s no turning back. Renata will fall, and probably Sebastián too. I understand. Are you sure? Five years working for him.
“Will you destroy that, Marita?” She thought of five years of silent love, of hope slowly dying, of seeing Sebastián devoted to his daughter, to his company, to everything except her, and now, Renata, young, beautiful, talented, everything Maritza wasn’t. “I’m sure,” she said. Pizarro extended his hand. “Then we’re partners.” Maritza shook it, sealing their fate.
The bomb exploded on a Tuesday morning. Sebastián was in a meeting when his assistant interrupted, pale-faced. “Don Sebastián, the board demands an emergency meeting.” Now, about what they didn’t say, but Ricardo Fuentes was furious. Sebastián found the boardroom full, all the members present. Renata was noticeably absent. Maritza was standing, laptop connected to the projector.
“What is this?” Sebastián asked. Ricardo spoke, his voice trembling with rage. “Maritza discovered something, something you should have seen months ago. Show me.” Maritza projected Renata’s first email to an external address. It contained details of a confidential offer for a project in Las Condes. Next email: unpublished technical design specifications. Next: internal budgets. 12 emails in total.
All from Renata’s account. All leaking corporate information. Sebastián felt the ground shift beneath his feet. “There’s more,” Maritza said. She projected bank statements. “Transfers from external accounts to Renata’s personal account. $50,000 in two months. This is impossible,” Sebastián said. “Renata wouldn’t do it; the evidence isn’t enough,” Ricardo interrupted.
Email from her account, money in her name. What more do you need? This is fabricated, it has to be. I hired an independent forensic firm, Maritza said. They verified the metadata. The emails are real, sent from our server two months ago. Sebastián looked at the dates, February and March, when Renata was working on confidential projects. Who was she selling information to? he asked.
Maritza paused dramatically. The receiving accounts are registered under shell companies, but we traced the true ownership. She projected the final document, Ernesto Pizarro. The silence was absolute. Renata is spying for the man who destroyed her, Maritza continued. Why? Perhaps revenge. Perhaps he offered to drop the criminal charges. No
It doesn’t matter, the result is the same. She betrayed us. No. Sebastián shook his head. I know Renata. You don’t know her. Ricardo leaned forward. You actually found her on the street three months ago. You don’t know anything about her except what she told you. I hired investigators. I checked everything. You checked her past, not her present. Marita closed her laptop. Sebastián, I know this hurts, but we have fiduciary responsibilities.
Three big lost bids against Pizarro in the last month. Now we know why. I need to talk to Renata. You need to fire her,” Ricardo said immediately and file criminal charges. “I’m not going to… Then you’ll face a vote of no confidence.” Ricardo looked around the table.
Who supports the motion to remove Sebastián Olmedo as CEO if he doesn’t fire Renata Salazar within 48 hours? Eleven hands went up. Only Sebastián didn’t vote. “48 hours,” Ricardo said. “Either she goes, or you go. Decide.” The meeting ended. Sebastián was left alone in the room. Maritza returned, closing the door behind her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but her eyes were dry. “I know this is difficult. How did you find the emails?” Routine audit. The system flagged them as suspicious. When you were planning to tell me, I wanted to be sure first. I didn’t want to accuse her without solid evidence.” Sebastián studied her. Something in his expression, something victorious, poorly concealed. “Are you enjoying this?” “Forgive me, five years, Maritza, five years working together.”
I thought you were a friend. I am your friend, that’s why I’m showing you the truth. Or because you’re jealous. Marita paled. That’s it, that’s ridiculous. It is. I’ve seen the way you look at Renata, the way you talk about her. This isn’t about protecting the company, it’s personal.
Everything becomes personal when the CEO loses objectivity over a pretty woman he rescued. Get out of my office, Sebastian. Now Marita has left. Sebastian slumped into a chair. 48 hours, two days to decide between his career and his conscience, between his company and the woman—the woman he loved. Was that it, love? His phone rang. Renata Sebastian. Lorenza called. She said there was an emergency meeting. What happened? I need you to come home now. I’m at a construction site.
Can you wait? No. The tone silenced Renata. I’m coming. An hour later, Sebastián showed her everything. Emails, transfers, evidence. Renata stared at him with growing disbelief. This is impossible. I didn’t send those emails; they’re from your account. Someone used my account. I’m being framed. The forensics experts say they’re real.
So, the forensic experts are either wrong or bribed. Renata stood up, pacing in circles. Think, Sebastián, why would I work for Pizarro? He destroyed me. Why would I help him? Maritza suggests revenge. Or that she offered to drop the charges and you believe her instead of me. I don’t know what to believe. Evidence is evidence. Look at me, look me in the eyes and tell me if you think I’m capable of betraying you. Sebastián looked at her.
She saw anger, pain, despair. She saw no guilt. No, she finally said. I don’t think you did it. Then, I have 48 hours to fire you. Either the board removes me or Renata froze. No, Renata, you’re not going to lose everything because of me. I won’t allow it. It’s not your decision. Of course it’s my decision. I resign now.
Problem solved. You won’t quit. We’ll fight this. We’ll find out who planted that evidence. In 48 hours. That’s impossible. Then I’ll take more time and you’ll lose your company. I don’t care about the company. The shout echoed. Renata stepped back in surprise. Sebastian took a deep breath, regaining his composure.
I’ve built Pacific Construction for 10 years. I know its worth, and it’s worth less than my integrity. It’s worth less than doing the right thing. It’s worth less than you. Tears streamed down Renata’s face. Don’t say that, please. Don’t say that. Why not? Because it makes everything harder. It’s hard enough as it is. Let’s at least be honest. They stared at each other across the space.
Years of loneliness, pain, survival between them. “I’m leaving,” Renata finally said. “Tomorrow I’ll write a letter of resignation taking full responsibility. I’ll say I lied to you, that I cheated, whatever it takes to protect you.” No. Yes. And you won’t stop me because you know what’s right. The right thing to do is fight. The right thing to do is for Luciana not to lose her father.
She needs you more than she needs me. The mention of her daughter hit like a ton of bricks. She needs you too. She’ll survive. Kids are resilient. You should know that better than anyone. You lost your parents. You survived. Renata closed her eyes. I survived. But the scars never heal. Exactly. And I’m not going to give those scars to my daughter willingly.
So, what do you suggest? That you destroy your life so I can stay? I suggest we find another option. There is no other option. The door opened. Lorena came in. Worried face. Sorry to interrupt, but Luciana heard you shouting. She’s crying in her room. Renata felt her heart break. I’ll go to her. No, said Sebastián. I’ll go.
You take the night, think, but don’t make any decisions until we talk tomorrow. She went upstairs. Renata stayed in the study, surrounded by false evidence and impossible decisions. In her room, Luciana sobbed in her father’s arms. Renata is leaving. I don’t know, my love, but she promised. She promised she would stay. Sometimes promises are broken.
Not because we want to, but because there’s no choice. Like Mom. Mom didn’t have a choice either. Sebastián didn’t know how to respond. His ex-wife had chosen her career over family. She’d had every choice in the world, but Luciana didn’t need to know that. Some people leave, she said carefully, and it hurts, but the people who truly love us find a way to stay. Renata loves us. I think so.
“Do you love her?” The question stopped him in his tracks. Luciana looked at him with swollen but piercing eyes. Honesty, he had taught his daughter. Always honesty. “Yes,” she said, “I think so. Then don’t let her go, Daddy. Please, fight for her like you fight for me.” “I’m trying, sweetheart. I’m trying.” He laid her down. When she finally fell asleep, he went downstairs. Renata was gone.
A note on the desk. I need to think. Don’t look for me tonight, please. R. Sebastián crumpled the paper. He called Álvaro Pinto. 48 hours to prove that evidence is false. Can you do it? I can try, but Sebastián, if it’s well fabricated, then find it, because I’m not going to lose it without a fight. He hung up.
He looked at his empty house, his sleeping daughter, his life hanging by a thread. Two days. Everything would be decided in two days. And Sebastián Olmedo, the man who built an empire with cold calculation, finally understood what it meant to risk everything. For love, for justice, for the only woman who had managed to break down his walls. He prayed to a god he barely believed in, that two days would be enough.
Sebastián didn’t sleep all night, sitting in his office staring at numbers that no longer meant anything. Ten years building Pacífico Construction from a small startup to a company valued at 50,000,000 employees, 25 active projects—all at risk because of a woman he’d known for three months. Three months. It felt like a lifetime.
His phone showed 4:47 a.m., three hours before the ultimatum expired. Forty-eight hours of frantic investigation by Álvaro Pinto, calls to forensic experts, metadata analysis. Everything confirmed the same thing. The evidence seemed real, incredibly real. But Sebastián knew Renata. He had seen her rise from the ashes, witnessed her fierce integrity, her refusal to accept charity, her pride that not even the streets could break.
That woman wouldn’t betray anyone, but how could they prove it in three hours? He called Álvaro again. Nothing solid. The investigator’s voice sounded exhausted. The emails definitely came from the Pacífico server, but there’s something strange about the access patterns. What? Renata always logs in from her office or personal laptop, but these emails were sent from the IT terminal in the basement at 2 a.m.
Renata worked those hours. I checked security logs. She never entered the building after 8 p.m. Sebastián straightened up. Then someone else used her account. Possible. But I need more time to trace who had access to that terminal. We don’t have more time. I know. I’m sorry, Sebastián. I did what I could. She hung up. Sebastián rubbed his face. Three options.
One, fire Renata. Save your company. Break your daughter’s heart. Betray your principles. Two, refuse to fire her, lose the vote of confidence, be removed as SEO, probably lose the company anyway. Three, resign voluntarily. Hand the company over to a successor who would protect Renata.
None of the options were good; they all hurt. He heard footsteps in the hallway. Lorenza appeared, surprised to find him awake. Don Sebastián was here all night. He couldn’t sleep. Nobody can handle this mess. Lorenza hesitated. Can I say something? Go ahead. I didn’t trust Renata. At first, I thought she was opportunistic, someone taking advantage of her kindness.
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