Todos os capítulos de The Wrong Bernardi: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Dinner was not a big production. I was too tired to put together anything Mama would consider photo-worthy. On the table, there was arroz con pollo I had made quickly with leftover roast chicken, sliced avocado with lime and salt, yesterday’s maduros reheated, a little tomato salad, and a bowl of steamed broccoli sitting plainly in the center of the table like a defendant who already knew life was about to get difficult.Aiden climbed into his chair. He looked at his plate.Looked at the broccoli.Then his whole face changed.His lower lip pushed out a little. His black fringe fell into his eyes. His shoulders dropped, and he stared at the green vegetable like it was the villain from his nightmares.“Mami.” That tone.“What?” I was pouring water into a glass.“There’s a tree on my plate.”“That’s broccoli,” I said.“It’s a little tree.”“Good, then. Now eat your forest.”Aiden looked at me with those huge blue eyes that could usually bend the laws of physics, vendor contracts, and the

By 11:12 P.M, I had returned to being a woman who looked like she could not possibly be touched by any problem that wasn’t wearing expensive shoes.That was, of course, a lie.But thin black eyeliner, hair pulled neatly back, an ivory blazer falling perfectly over my shoulders, high-waisted black trousers, and small gold earrings were convincing enough to fool most of the world. The world was very easy to deceive with good tailoring. I knew that because I had built an entire career out of making rich people’s chaos look like an artistic decision.Cruz Atelier that afternoon smelled like coffee, fresh flowers, expensive printer ink, and panic that had been professionally labeled.In the main conference room, the Casa Valdierra moodboards covered the long table. Photos of old olive trees. Champagne linen swatches. Tile-protection samples. Service court floor plans. Screenshots of the carriage house. Citrus routes. Notes about the beach stairs that I had written in capital letters becaus

I lowered my fork to the plate. “A lot of women have son,” I answered. “It’s not the Discovery Channel.”“Four years old?”I picked up my glass of sparkling water.The glass was cold. Condensation clung to my fingers. A thin slice of lemon floated inside it peacefully, completely unaware that it had somehow joined an emergency family-secrets meeting.I drank.One sip.Two.Not rushing.I set the glass back on the table, right inside the small ring of water it had already made. “Children usually have ages, Rhysand. It’s one of their main features.”“Four.”“Good hearing. Would you like applause too?”He leaned in a little farther, just enough to make the space between us feel like something deliberately pulled taut by someone with too much patience and too little shame.“What happened after you ran from my suite?”The fork on my plate shifted on its own when my fingertip brushed it.A small sound.Soft.Kind of annoying.I looked toward the restroom, toward the short hallway with yello

I let one second pass.Then two.In my lap, the nail of my thumb pressed into the side of my index finger, neat and hidden beneath the white napkin.“Yeah,” I said. “One night. You’re supposed to have a good memory. Keep it there.”“That’s not an answer.”“Correct. It’s a closed door.”“I can wait outside it.”“You hear a building’s for sale and just buy the whole thing, don’t you?”“If I want it badly enough.”“You don’t get to buy your way into my life, Rhysand.”His smile faded slowly. “I’m not trying to buy your life.”“But you’re asking for my home address, household composition, minor dependents if applicable, my son’s birthday, and a complete timeline of what happened after I left your bed.” I counted each one on my fingers. “Very normal. Very relaxed. Practically a customer satisfaction survey.”“I didn’t send the household composition email.”“Your security team used the Bernadi name. That’s enough.”“They’ll stop.”“The request is already in my inbox, and my inbox has a long

He’d already had a bath.His hair was still a little damp, his thick fringe falling messily across his forehead. He wore a navy pajama set covered in tiny cars even though the sun hadn’t fully gone down yet, and one of his clogs was on properly while the other barely clung to his feet. Rhysand’s face, if he still believed dinosaur-shaped soap had feelings.He ran down two steps.“Walk.”He slowed down dramatically for exactly two steps, then started running again and crashed into my legs in a full-body hug.“Mami, look at my car!”“I see there’s a new vehicle on this property without zoning approval.”“It’s a sports car.” He grabbed my hand with both of his. “Come. Come. Hurry. But not too fast because Elmo said I’m not allowed to run.”Elma appeared in the doorway wearing loose shorts, an oversized green T-shirt, and her hair in a high ponytail.“Maya,” she said with a long sigh, “I just want to say upfront that this was not my idea.”Aiden looked back at her. “Elmo’s boring.”“I’m b