No one.
I stepped away from the counter, inhaling deeply, forcing a calm smile back onto my face before walking over to Clara. She was watching me now in silence, her attentive eyes catching more than I wanted them to.
“Are you okay, Mommy?” she asked, her little voice small and worried.
I went to her and crouched down until we were eye level, cupping her delicate face in my hands.
“I’m okay, baby. Mommy’s just worried about some grown-up things.”
“Bad things?” she asked innocently.
I stroked her dark hair back.
“There aren’t any bad things that can scare us,” I told her softly. “Not as long as you’re with me. If you’re with me, I’m not afraid of anything.”
Clara smiled and hugged me tight. I held her against my chest, feeling her tiny heartbeat steady against mine, while my mind drifted—just for a second—back to a distant past. An altar. A cathedral. A man who had destroyed me without mercy.
Once, I had been weak. Vulnerable. Once, I had let someone break me completely.
Never again.
Never again would I allow anything to threaten my daughter, my life, or my dreams. I had learned how to be strong. Learned how to be a mother. Learned how to rise from ashes.
I stood slowly, inhaled, and pulled my thoughts back under control.
Facing a powerful multinational would be difficult, yes.
But it was nothing compared to what I had already survived.
THREE
ENRICO FERRARA
The silence in the conference room was almost tangible as I paced slowly around the massive oval table. Ten pairs of attentive eyes followed me, waiting for my assessment of the latest results from Ferrara Group’s international hospitality division.
I wasn’t satisfied.
Not even close.
“Do you genuinely believe these numbers are acceptable?” I asked in a low voice that was dangerously calm, stopping behind the chair reserved exclusively for me. My hand settled on the backrest with light pressure as I studied each face around the table—one by one.
“We achieved five percent growth, Mr. Ferrara. It’s within expectations…” Fernando Albuquerque, the director responsible for the hotel division, began.
I raised one eyebrow, cutting him off with a cold look.
“Within expectations?” My tone didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. “I expected at least double that, Fernando. Or was I not clear enough when we set our targets at the beginning of the quarter?”
Fernando swallowed hard, his gaze dropping.
“Perhaps… perhaps not as clear as I assumed, sir.”
A heavy silence settled for several seconds. My expression didn’t change, but the man in front of me visibly paled, realizing immediately what he’d just said.
“Let me be absolutely clear now, then,” I continued, precise and controlled. “I don’t accept average results. I don’t accept excuses. I don’t accept mediocrity. We are Ferrara—not some small-town inn. You have one month to turn these numbers around, or I will reevaluate who remains on my executive team.”
I watched the subtle reactions with practiced attention. Some lowered their eyes immediately. Others nodded almost imperceptibly. No one dared argue.
That was exactly how it should be.
