He believed he had defeated me. But in truth, that was the moment I began to win.
A few days later, on a deserted road near Barcelona, after a phone call informed him that the sale had been legally blocked by my lawyer, Alberto shoved me out of the car as he hurled his final words at me:
“Nobody loves you!”
The dust raised by his tires still hung in the air when I pulled my phone from my bag. I already had the Weiss number dialed.
“Mr. Alexander? I am Clara. The time has come. I need your help.”
He didn’t ask for explanations. He simply requested my location. Less than an hour later, a black limousine appeared on that empty road.
The chauffeur stepped out, opened the door, and gestured for me to enter. Inside, the air smelled of hardwood and leather. Across from me sat Alejandro Gutiérrez, a man with silver hair and piercing eyes.
“Your grandmother always said you were much stronger than you looked,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
I gave a bitter smile.
“Strong? Now I feel shattered.”
“No, Clara. What you feel is the beginning of your rebirth.”
