“I hate saying it, Enrico,” he said, “but there’s only one move left that flips this overnight.”
I shut my eyes.
I could see it like a headline already.
Like a knife.
“A public marriage to Valentina,” I said, low and bitter.
André didn’t deny it.
He didn’t have to.
“People can hate you,” he said. “They can hate Dreamland. But if you marry her, the revenge narrative collapses. It becomes reconciliation. It becomes family.” He paused. “It becomes stability.”
It also became humiliation.
A concession I never imagined making.
But Dreamland wasn’t just a project anymore.
It was the company’s future.
My seat.
My leverage inside my own family.
And if Eloá decided I was weak, she would cut me loose like she cut everything else.
My phone vibrated again.
A call I didn’t want.
A call I couldn’t ignore.
Eloá Ferrara.
I answered.
“Nonna.”
Her voice was ice.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she snapped. “The board is questioning whether you’re fit to lead. If this isn’t contained immediately, they will remove you. And I will not stop them.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“I’m handling it,” I said.
“You have hours,” she replied. “Not days.”
The line went dead.
I stood there for a moment, breathing through anger like it was poison.
Then I looked at André.
He didn’t look triumphant.
