Bougth love

Hanna slammed the folder onto Sergio's desk. The sound was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence of the office. He didn't even have to open it; from the look on her face and the color of the paper, he knew exactly what she had discovered.

"Is it true?" Hanna asked. Her voice wasn't poetic; it was trembling and laced with fury. "Did your family have something to do with what happened to my father? Is that why you're with me? Out of guilt?"

Sergio remained silent for a second, staring at his own company's name on the documents. He rubbed his face with his hands-a gesture of exhaustion he never showed in front of anyone.

"Hanna, look at me," he said, taking a step toward her, though she immediately backed away. "I didn't want you to find out like this. I swear to you, on whatever you want."

"Oh, really? And when were you planning to tell me? Or was the plan to make sure I never found out?"

"I was going to tell you eventually, but I was waiting for a moment when you wouldn't tell me to go to hell the second I opened my mouth." Sergio let out a heavy sigh and forced himself to look her in the eye. "Look, you know I'm not the kind of man who goes around asking for forgiveness. I'm not good at it, I'm not used to it, and it costs me the world... but I am sorry. I apologize."

Hanna let out a bitter laugh.

"You apologize? Sergio, my father is dead because of decisions made by your last name."

"I know, and I can't change my family's past," he replied, his voice sharp but honest. "I was wrong not to tell you sooner. I was a coward because I was afraid of losing you. But don't ask me not to feel what I feel for you, because that part is real, even if everything else is a disaster."

Hanna fell silent, looking at the man she thought she knew, while the weight of the truth filled every corner of the office.

Hanna turned to leave, but Sergio quickly rounded the desk and stood in front of the door. He didn't touch her, but his presence blocked her path.

"Hanna, wait. Don't go like this," he pleaded, his tone not one of command, but of desperation. "Give me one more minute."

"For what, Sergio? So you can make up another excuse?"

Sergio shook his head and leaned against the door, letting out his held breath.

"Look, I know 'us' isn't perfect. I know living together hasn't been the best, that we clash all the time, and that sometimes it feels like we can't even stand each other," he said, staring at her. "But, truly, I didn't want to make you suffer with this. That's why I kept quiet."

Hanna crossed her arms, clenching her fists so he wouldn't see her hands shaking.

"So, according to you, you were protecting me?" she asked sarcastically.

"I don't know if I was protecting you, but I was definitely buying time," he confessed with total honesty. "I knew this would destroy you, and I didn't want to be the one to deal the blow. I was wrong, I admit it. But I didn't do it out of malice. It's up to you whether you believe me or not-I can't control that-but it's the only truth I have right now."

Silence filled the office again, but it was different this time. Sergio was no longer the cold guy who was always in control; he looked tired of carrying that secret.

Hanna looked at him for a long moment. The pain was still there, but Sergio's sincerity had left her stunned.

Hanna stared at a fixed point on the wall, processing his words. The air in the office felt thick, as if the walls were closing in on her. Finally, she let out a long sigh and slumped her shoulders-a sign that she no longer had the strength to keep screaming.

"Fine, Sergio," she said in a low voice, barely looking at him. "I accept your apology."

Sergio took a step toward her, feeling a momentary sense of relief, but the coldness in Hanna's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"But it doesn't mean everything is okay," she continued. "I need to get out of here. I feel sick-I truly feel sick. I can't keep looking at these logos and this office knowing what I know."

Sergio looked at her with concern. Hanna's face was pale, and her hands were still shaking slightly. For a moment, he wanted to offer to drive her, but he knew she needed distance from him.

"I understand," he replied, clearing the way to the door. "Go home. Rest. We'll talk tomorrow if you want, or whenever you're ready."

Hanna didn't answer. She grabbed her bag, walked past him without touching him, and hurried out of the office. Sergio stood there, in the middle of his silent luxury office, watching the door close. For the first time in his life, the success and money surrounding him meant absolutely nothing.

Hanna arrived home feeling her chest tighten. As she walked in, the silence of the place-the home she shared with the man whose family took her father away-became unbearable. She locked herself in her room, sat on the edge of the bed, and finally let the tears fall.

Hanna lay down on the bed without even taking off her shoes. The silence of the house felt different now; it wasn't a peaceful silence, but one that reminded her of everything she had discovered.

She looked at herself in the vanity mirror, her eyes red and her makeup slightly smeared. She stared at her reflection for a long time, as if she didn't recognize herself, and finally spoke in a whisper, only to herself:

"I never imagined I'd have to go through this..." she said, her own voice sounding strange and foreign.

She ran her hands over her face, trying to organize her thoughts.

"Of all the people in the world, it had to be him. It had to be his name," she continued murmuring. "I thought my life was finally finding a path-that this thing with Sergio, as difficult as it is, would work. But this... this is too much."

She hugged herself, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. She couldn't stop thinking about her father and, at the same time, about the look on Sergio's face when he asked for forgiveness. She felt betrayed by fate.

"How am I supposed to keep living in this house?" she asked herself, closing her eyes tight. "How am I supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow without seeing my father's death in his eyes?"

She had no answers. She only knew that the Hanna who walked into that office hours ago no longer existed. She stayed there, lying down, waiting for sleep to come so she could stop thinking, though she knew the following morning would be even harder.

Hanna woke up before the sun rose. She stared at the ceiling, listening to the silence of the house, and inevitably her mind returned to the office. She began to replay every word, every gesture, and above all, the look on Sergio's face when he apologized.

Sitting in the kitchen with a hot cup of coffee between her hands, Hanna began to analyze things more calmly. She realized that Sergio wasn't such a bad man, at least not in the way she had thought.

"It's a mask," she told herself in a low voice.

She remembered how he always maintained that rigid posture, that tone of voice that allowed no room for doubt, and his habit of controlling everything. Before, she saw it as pure arrogance, but now she understood that his hard character was just a defense. Sergio used his coldness as a shield to keep anyone from seeing how he truly felt, to ensure his feelings didn't make him vulnerable to others.

Accepting his apology yesterday had been an impulse born of exhaustion, but today, processing it better, Hanna felt that Sergio was truly suffering because of that secret. It didn't justify his family's silence, nor what happened to her father, but she was starting to understand that Sergio was also, in his own way, a prisoner of his own last name.

She wondered if she would ever get to know the man behind all that armor, or if the weight of the past would always be an impassable wall between them.

Just then, she heard Sergio's footsteps coming down the stairs. Her heart skipped a beat.

Hanna shook her head, giving herself a mental slap to snap out of it. She set her coffee cup down on the table with too much force, annoyed with herself for having a moment of weakness.

"What is wrong with me?" she whispered, feeling angry at her own thoughts. "How can I feel compassion for someone so cold and heartless?"

She stood up and began pacing the kitchen. She felt stupid for trying to justify him. She couldn't forget the reality: Sergio was the man who, in a way, had bought her life by taking advantage of the circumstances. His last name was synonymous with the tragedy that destroyed her family, and no "sincere" apology was going to change that.

"He's a manipulator," she told herself, trying to be convinced. "He only told me that so I wouldn't hate him, to keep me under control. I can't fall for his game."