Here's the translation:

**(AMANDA)**

The conversation that followed between Gavin and me was brief but precise. He said outright that, yes, Donovan had feelings for me, and that he wasn't just upset about being "left out" in recent weeks; he was also enraged that Gavin had confessed his feelings to me. Gavin also explained that he hadn’t told Donovan about that night, but knew he would have to soon.

I listened intently as he spoke, his eyes locked on mine. It was clear that he was quite sad and worried about how things were unfolding. What struck me the most at that moment was how relaxed he seemed about one thing: my nakedness. I was literally without any clothing, with only the water preventing my body from being fully revealed. Yet... there was no exaggerated reaction, no violent shame, or hesitation. Just a complicated conversation, without that being the complicating factor.

Then I began to feel cold. I told him this and that I wanted to get dressed.

"Of course. I'll wait for you in the kitchen; I prepared a snack for us."

After draining the bathtub and wrapping myself in a towel, I went to the bedroom and dressed in a red top and black shorts. I combed my hair back and let it dry naturally. Although I didn't want to admit it, it was very comfortable to be in this kind of... relationship with Gavin. Nothing had changed much in that aspect, but knowing about his feelings made me feel more at ease, more inclined than ever to listen to him and help him.

However, the information revealed by him during our bathroom conversation also left me distressed, although I forced myself not to show it. Donovan was also very important to me, and knowing that he was now bitter... it was impossible not to feel that it was my fault. I should have explained things earlier, I should have controlled myself better and avoided letting my emotions overflow. Maybe then I wouldn’t have cried, clung desperately to Gavin, and begged him to save me from that torment. Consequently, he would never have admitted anything... Or would he?

Knowing that Donovan was aware of it, that Gavin had already confessed what he felt, and thinking that I could have spoken up but didn’t due to my hesitation, was also destroying me inside. That day in the bedroom, I wanted him to take me, to hold me close, but at the same time, I couldn’t bear his touch without thrashing, screaming, or freezing in panic.

If Donovan had been beside me in bed two weeks ago, would things have been completely different?

Still lost in thought, I went to the kitchen. Gavin was making blueberry pancakes, a pretentious fruit that I never thought much of, but he loved. I smiled inwardly, grateful for the small break from the famous toast. I didn’t offer to help with the preparation, already anticipating the classic line: "You’re here to be taken care of, not to do housework. Now sit and wait for me to finish." So I settled into one of the chairs and played with my nails and the long curls cascading down my back.

“What would you like to drink, papaya juice or tangerine?” my host and personal chef asked as he added another pancake to the small stack that was already ready.

“Papaya, please.”

After turning off the stove, Gavin made a jug of juice in record time and brought everything to the dining table. After serving me, he made his own plate, and we began to eat. His face was still marked by sadness, and I imagined mine wasn’t exactly cheerful either. I would need to talk to Donovan about all of this, and it should be done in person. But how? Besides being constantly occupied with the company, his time was basically regulated by Gavin’s availability. It used to be common for him to make regular visits, but always with the blond around. There would be no way to clarify anything with Gavin right beside us, listening to every detail of the conversation. Or maybe there would be, but the consequences could be infinitely disastrous.

I didn’t need to dwell on this thought for long. Five minutes later, we heard our doorbell ring. Gavin and I looked at each other, and outside the door, Donovan’s unmistakable voice sounded:

“Gavin, it’s me. Open the door!”

. . . . . . . . . . .

(JAMES)

There were three hours left before my meeting with Alexandra at one of my favorite restaurants. I dressed casually yet elegantly and was now simply passing the time. Usually, I used to spend an entire day with her when I had free time, but now it was different. Our plan had started, and to the rest of the world, we were merely business partners and potential allies. Even if they saw us in a restaurant, they would only associate it with an important discussion about business dynamics; nothing more, nothing less.

I already knew the results would come as soon as we implemented our little network of false information; gossip that reached the right ears and brought down a pillar of Gavin Roy’s wretched little sandcastle. All we had to do now was weaken others and watch them fall as well.

Donovan would obviously not sit idly by. He hadn’t reached his position merely by appointment but by competence, action, and decision-making that placed him on the list of the most influential people of recent years. A man was only that, however, and no man alone, no matter how incredible and intelligent, could work miracles. He would just need to wait for the right moment to strike again, and I was sure he would yield to desperation.

The view outside, filled with tall buildings, fast cars, and people passing by, was inspiring. I lit a cigar and took a single glass of wine while organizing my thoughts. When the Urus hit a crisis and slowly began to decline, Altari would be on top. Jewel would be right behind, but we would do everything to avoid drawing attention or provoking suspicion from others. We had a plan for that, too. The details were more than settled, and if we managed to follow everything to the letter without deviations, within less than a year, we would have our success and our revenge.

The only part that was annoying me about all this was Alexandra’s massive insistence on wanting to know more about the random girl who appeared in the square with Donovan and Gavin. Although it might be interesting in some near future, her presence didn’t affect the steps we had ahead. I had thought and rethought everything; the idea was perfect and could only go wrong if our personal failures came into play. There was a correct timing to be respected, and that distraction could cost us dearly down the line.

The redhead responded, hesitantly, that I was right and it could cost us time and vital resources, but she didn’t assure me that she would let it go. I’m not a fool; I know she’s by my side because I have what she needs, and if she could find a better way to achieve her goal, she would discard me without a second thought. The advantage I had was simple yet effective: Alexandra liked to have her intimacies in peculiar ways, and it would be a scandal if one day, by "carelessness," that information leaked among all the employees of her company.

I never had to threaten to tell anyone, and I’m sure she was already aware of what her betrayal could bring. We were raised for this; to assess, probe, defend, and attack. The corporate world is cruel and slippery, and anyone weaker can succumb and be reduced to a mere pawn in a game more complicated than it really seemed.

And that was exactly what my father always wanted, to turn me into a weakling always beneath him, more useless than the sole of his shoe.

When we moved to Brazil, my deplorable and despicable father named Orlando Wiltan made it clear that this was the worst decision possible and that any failure the Altari would have from then on would be my fault. I just laughed and said that in the nursing home, the only thing he would think about was how many diapers he would soil daily.

That’s when the old man threw a ceramic vase at my head, almost blinding me in the process. I came out practically unscathed, though, with just a small scar on my temple and a strong desire to destroy the one responsible for it.

The old man was now in an unknown location, obviously afraid to face me since my status and power were on par with his. My notable actions had brought me several allies, and it would be madness if my place on the board were contested. My current right-hand man, Richard Alvarez, was one of my father’s victims, dismissed for just cause after twenty-five years of unwavering loyalty. What unites more than shared hatred? Richard was equipped with intelligence, shrewdness, and, above all, a strong desire to make Altari prosper through my hands and see Orlando fall into the mud.

All my enemies would fall. It wasn’t a threat but a prophecy.

I take another sip of wine. For a moment, I imagine savoring the blood of all those who opposed me. A sneer of scorn escapes my lips.

. . . . . . . . . .

(GAVIN)

Contrary to all my expectations, Donovan didn’t disappear as I thought he would. No, he showed up a few hours after our conflict, and he didn’t seem inclined to smooth things over or appeal to diplomacy. I swallowed hard and looked at Amanda. She looked at the door and then at me, appearing anxious and alarmed. When I made a move to get up to answer the door, she shook her head and went to answer Donovan herself.

As soon as she opened the door, I quickly absorbed the details. Donovan still had angry eyes instead of his usual neutral expression; he was wearing the same suit as at the tea house, meaning he hadn’t even gone home. This could mean anything, but I

didn’t have time to ask anything, and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I was paralyzed in place, paying attention to every movement he made.

I immediately noticed Donovan’s posture change when he looked at Amanda’s face: first surprise, then shame for being so nervous and sweaty, transitioning to gentleness and emotion for missing her. His voice was no longer trembling when he spoke to her:

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Amanda replied, timidly and perhaps with a bit of fear.

“Oh my God,” he murmured, completely ignoring me. “Are you scared of me? I’m sorry, Amanda... I’m really sorry.”

She shrugged, still speaking in a soft tone:

“You don’t need to apologize. Do you want to come in?” — she gestured with her arm. I noticed her legs were shaking. Damn. She was really nervous.

The Urus’ vice CEO finally looked at me. His expression was no longer filled with anger and accusation, but his eyes sent a message of firmness and total assertiveness. A silent challenge for me to try to stop him from whatever he was willing to do. I just maintained eye contact, sticking to strategic silence.

“No,” he replied, still staring at me, and his features changed again as he turned back to Amanda, as well as his tone of voice. “But I want to talk to you.”

Amanda’s reaction was the same as mine, a surprised silence followed by a brief gasp. Before she could respond, he continued:

“I won’t take much of your time. And... I need it to be somewhere else. Not here.”

She looked at me. I shrugged.

“Where to?” she asked him.

Donovan seemed pleased with the response. He was probably counting on a refusal, or even a possible resistance from me. I would never do that. All the decisions she made would be entirely hers, not influenced by me. What kind of man did he think I was? Some kind of emotional dictator? Amanda was a person and had the complete right to do whatever she wanted. And mainly: she didn’t owe me anything. I just wanted her to be happy and healthy. Didn’t Donovan understand that?

“I’ll decide on the way. And don’t worry. I saw you were having a snack, and if you’re still hungry, I’ll buy something for you to eat. Is that okay?”

She nodded timidly. Then she put on the black slippers propped up against the wall next to the door, the same ones I had bought for her when she was still hospitalized months ago. Amanda said goodbye to me with a sad smile and a lingering look, as if apologizing for leaving but letting me know that it was necessary for things to finally be resolved... at least temporarily. I gave her a reassuring smile, trying to tell her that I understood and that she could be at ease.

Donovan didn’t look back at me. Once Amanda was finally out of the apartment, he closed the door gently; there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he watched her.

I remained seated in the same place, some pancakes still on the plate. But I lost my appetite.

Donovan could be many things, but he wasn’t a scoundrel nor did he play with other people’s feelings. He was somewhat resentful and vengeful, but far from being an unscrupulous villain who would do anything to get what he wanted. He wouldn’t say things to Amanda that would deliberately push her away from me, nor would he manipulate her to have her company full-time.

If he were to confess his feelings to her, or rather, when he confessed, he would open his heart and say everything he felt and thought. He would finally let go of the filters and caution and release the dam that had surely taken hold of his heart. What Amanda would do in response, what she would say... that wasn’t my concern. After all, she had never lied to me, and from the beginning, I had known that her heart swayed towards him too. Amanda was free and master of herself and her actions. The care and dedication I had for her would never be used as blackmail, or I wouldn’t be called Gavin.

Sighing, I put the remaining pancakes in the fridge, drink the last sips of juice, and start washing the dishes. As I clean the used plates and cutlery, I feel my chest heavy with jealousy and anguish, but I try not to focus on it. It was obvious that someday things would reach this point, and we would need to go through it anyway to reach a final decision, a clear path to follow.

The selfish and petty part inside me desperately wanted Amanda to choose me.

Troubled, I tell that part that the choice isn’t ours to make, but rather the long and torturous wait.