From abandoned girlfriend to tycoon’s lover (Copy)

🌪️ Chapter 13 — Back Where It Burned

Three days after the São Paulo show, I returned to Altamira.

But not quietly.

The airport lounge had paparazzi waiting. Fans asking for photos. Fashion bloggers with microphones. Everyone wanted to see the woman who turned betrayal into a brand and heartbreak into haute couture.

I didn’t stop for any of them.

I had my driver open the door, slide in wearing black sunglasses and a beige trench coat, and give one command:

“Drive me to the Navarro estate.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

It was time.

The Navarro estate was the same.

Too big, too empty, too polished.

Fake flowers on the table. Imported rugs. That same cold energy in every corner. The place I used to call home but never really belonged.

The maid looked stunned when I arrived.

“Miss María… I didn’t know you were—”

“Where’s Mariano?”

“In the study, ma’am.”

Of course.

The same leather chair. The same whiskey glass. The same man who once chose another woman’s child over his own.

He looked up when I entered, clearly surprised — though he tried to mask it.

“María.”

“Father.”

We stared at each other for a long second.

He gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

I didn’t.

“You came back from São Paulo. I saw the coverage. The entire country’s talking.”

“I know.”

He took a sip of his drink.

“You looked… powerful.”

“I am.”

He nodded slowly.

“Is this a visit… or a warning?”

“Neither,” I said. “This is closure.”

He leaned back, eyes guarded.

“You know,” he muttered, “for a long time, I thought your mother cursed you. I blamed her. For the way you fought back. For your coldness. For your anger.”

I said nothing.

“But now I realize… she didn’t curse you. She prepared you.”

My heart didn’t flinch at the sound of her name. Not anymore.

“She taught me survival,” I said. “You taught me what not to become.”

He sighed, setting down the glass.

“So, what do you want, María?”

I reached into my handbag and pulled out the papers I’d been saving for this moment.

“The shares,” I said. “My mother’s original stake in the Navarro holdings. You promised.”

He scoffed. “I said I’d consider—”

“You promised. At Isabel’s wedding.”

He looked at me carefully.

Then picked up a pen.

Signed.

Stamped.

Slid them across the table.

“I always thought I’d leave everything to her,” he muttered. “But… she’s gone.”

“She was never everything. You just treated her like she was.”

He looked up at me with something almost like regret.

“I was cruel.”

“Yes.”

“I may not get forgiveness.”

“You won’t.”

He nodded again.

I picked up the signed documents, tucked them into my bag, and turned to leave.

“María,” he called softly.

I paused at the door.

“I don’t know if you’ll ever have a daughter… but if you do, I hope you treat her better than I treated you.”

I looked over my shoulder, meeting his eyes.

“If I ever have a daughter,” I said, “she’ll never need to earn my love. That’s the difference between you and me.”

Then I walked away.

Outside, the sky was clouding over.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

A storm was coming — poetic, maybe. But fitting.

Rosa called me as I got into the car.

“María. We just got a media request. A very aggressive one.”

“From?”

“Altamira Daily. And… Channel 3.”

Of course. The vultures always circled the highest towers.

“Schedule something public,” I said. “A statement. A sit-down. Make it big.”

She hesitated. “You want to go public again?”

“I want to control the narrative.”

“Got it.”

I ended the call.

The driver asked, “Where to now, ma’am?”

I looked out the window as the rain began to fall, smearing the glass like tears I no longer cried.

“Home,” I said.

Because now… I actually had one.

That night, Leonardo came to visit.

He didn’t call first. He never did.

He simply showed up — bottle of red wine in one hand, a sly smile in the other.

“You really are something,” he said as I opened the door.

“Is that a compliment or a threat?”

“Both.”

We sat on the balcony, lightning flashing in the distance.

“I saw the papers,” he said, sipping his wine. “You now own thirty percent of Navarro Holdings.”

“Legally. Publicly.”

He tilted his head. “You planning to take the rest?”

I smiled. “Only if they make the mistake of challenging me.”

He clinked his glass against mine.

“To control.”

“No,” I corrected. “To freedom.”

We drank in silence.

And for once, I didn’t feel like a woman who had lost everything.

I felt like a woman who had finally found what she was always meant to be.