From abandoned girlfriend to tycoon’s lover (Copy)

🕯️ Chapter 10 — Whispers, Warnings, and Wine

The next morning, as soon as I stepped into the building, I could feel it.

The shift.

Every assistant, designer, intern, and manager turned their heads when I passed. Some lowered their gazes out of respect. Others kept their eyes glued to me like I was a walking headline.

I didn’t blame them.

After all, I had turned a national wedding into a soap opera — and walked out of it with a company under my heel.

Rosa caught up to me as I approached my office.

“There’s… a lot going around this morning,” she whispered.

“Rumors?”

She nodded.

“Some say you planned it all,” she said carefully. “That you let Isabel have the wedding to make her look ridiculous. Others think you’re heartless. And some…”

“Some think I’m a genius,” I finished.

Rosa hesitated, then smiled.

“That too.”

I gave her a small nod and entered my office.

I had just sat down when my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I almost declined.

But something told me to pick up.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice, smooth, controlled.

“Miss Navarro. This is Doctor Azevedo from Altamira General. I’m calling about your sister, Isabel.”

I almost laughed.

“She’s not my sister.”

There was a pause.

“Nevertheless… she collapsed this morning. Her condition has worsened dramatically. She’s asking for you.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“Of course she is.”

“Miss Navarro, she might not last the week.”

Silence.

Then I said, “Tell her I’ll come. But only once.”

And I hung up.

Later that day, I stood in the hospital hallway again.

Everything smelled like bleach and old regrets.

Carmen was seated outside Isabel’s room, weeping dramatically.

The moment she saw me, her expression shifted.

“Now you show up? She’s dying, María!”

“I heard,” I replied coldly. “You should be happy. She got her dream.”

Carmen stood up, trembling with rage. “How dare you—”

Before she could lunge at me, the door opened. Antonio stepped out.

He looked exhausted. His face gaunt, his suit wrinkled. The golden boy was beginning to crack.

“María,” he said.

“Antonio,” I replied, like we were strangers.

“She wants to see you.”

I stepped past him and entered.

Isabel lay on the bed, her skin pale, her eyes sunken. She looked half like a corpse, half like a saint in a painting.

“María…” she croaked.

I stayed by the door.

She smiled weakly.

“I knew… you’d come…”

“What do you want?” I asked.

She coughed, then whispered, “I’m scared.”

I said nothing.

She looked at me with desperate eyes. “Do you think… people like us… go to heaven?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by people like us?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she reached for something on the side table — a small letter.

“I wrote this… for you…”

I didn’t take it.

“I’m not here to play your games, Isabel. If you want forgiveness, ask the mirror. Not me.”

Tears filled her eyes.

“You really… won’t forgive me?”

I stepped closer. Just a little.

“You never felt guilty. Not once. You were jealous. You were greedy. You wanted everything that was mine.”

I looked her in the eye.

“And you got it. So die with it.”

She flinched.

But before she could respond, the machines behind her beeped rapidly.

Doctors and nurses rushed in.

They pushed me aside.

“Out! Now!”

I stepped into the hallway, where Carmen and Antonio rushed to the door.

I didn’t wait for the outcome.

I walked out of that hospital for the last time.

That night, I was sitting on my balcony with a glass of wine when a message arrived.

Leonardo.

Dinner. Rooftop. 9PM. I’ll send a driver.

I didn’t reply.

At 8:55, I was in the car.

The rooftop restaurant was exclusive — a hidden gem above the city, overlooking the Altamira skyline. Golden lights glimmered like stars.

Leonardo stood waiting, dressed in a black suit, no tie. Clean. Effortless. Dangerously composed.

“You came,” he said, pulling out my chair.

“I was bored,” I replied.

He smiled. “I hope to change that.”

Dinner was quiet. Delicious. Elegant. No small talk.

Finally, over dessert, he spoke.

“I’ve been watching you.”

“That’s not creepy at all.”

“I’m not watching your body, María,” he said coolly. “I’m watching your moves. And I have an offer.”

I leaned forward. “I’m listening.”

He folded his hands. “CHEZ MARÍA is brilliant. But small. I can take you global. Fashion weeks in Paris, Milan, Tokyo. Distribution deals. Investment.”

I tilted my head. “And what do you get?”

“A front-row seat,” he replied. “And a partnership with the most dangerous woman in Altamira.”

I studied him.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t flirt.

Didn’t beg.

He offered respect.

Real, rare respect.

I raised my glass.

“To new empires,” I said.

We clinked.

He smiled. “May they rise from ashes.”

And I smiled back.

Because mine already had.