When The Obstinate Billionaire Meets The Lovely Orphan

Jonathan Campos

The cold handcuffs rubbed against my wrists, leaving them red and irritated. I am taken out of the police car and directed to the chief’s office. He was a young man and seemed to know my father well.

”Jonathan Campos?” He looked at me, intrigued.

“Yes,” I said, but I couldn’t see the man’s eyes.

“Your father won’t like it one bit when he finds out you’re here”.

I looked at the deputy and opened my mouth to say something related to my dad, but he got up and said,

“You’re entitled to a call.” I turned my face back, and he was standing with the door open, waiting for me to leave. "Call Marcelo and let him know you’re here”.

”Aren’t you going to interrogate me?”

“Certainly,” I got up and approached him. “You have the right to a lawyer, and you should be aware that anything you say can be used against you”.

He came around behind me and took the handcuffs off. I sighed in relief. He led the way, so I could make the call, and as I walked there, I thought how lucky I was to have stopped at the police station where the sheriff was my dad’s friend. The impression I had was that he was somehow trying to favor me.

I stopped in front of the counter and looked at the phone in front of me. My blood froze. In a few minutes, I would be getting the biggest lecture of my life.

“What are you waiting for, kid?” There was a police officer in front of me with an expression of few friends “if you wait just one more second, you won’t be able to call”.

I swallowed hard and picked up the device. I dialed the number and waited for him to answer. It was already two o’clock in the morning. He called once, twice, three times, and on the seventh call a voice on the other end almost made me lose the courage to go through with it.

“Hi dad” I closed my eyes while throwing the bomb “I was arrested”.

“He was arrested.” Maybe I went too fast. "What have you done this time, Jonathan?”

”When you get here, I’ll explain." My voice was calm, but inside there was chaos. “I’m in the city’s 35 PD”.

There was silence on the other end of the line and I know what that meant: Marcelo had his eyes closed, and his fists clenched, trying not to lose control.

“Whatever it is, just know that you’re pretty fucked up with me”.

And he hung up. The police officer took me back to the sheriff’s office, but it was now empty. I stayed there, sitting in the half light of an one lamp, without handcuffs. I had time to think about the events of the last few hours and the consequences that would soon follow. Furthermore, I had performed that act so many times and nothing like it had ever happened. Every time I got in the car to race, I made sure of myself. And come out victorious. I never thought that I would arrest someone or put someone’s life at risk. Until now.

The door opening dispelled all my thoughts and the figure of my father standing right behind me brought out other fears. Marcelo sat next to me, silent, but the look he gave me was like an entire book thrown into my head. The delegate sat across from us. My judgment would begin there.

“They arrested Jonathan for drunk driving” Marcelo passed his hand over his face “and for being run over”.

“Did you hit someone?” His voice rose.

“He called emergency services himself and stayed at the crime scene until the police arrived”.

“It was the bare minimum.” He fidgeted in his chair. I knew my father well, and I knew he was holding back from making things worse. "Were there any deaths?”

“No, but the man is in serious condition in the hospital”.

“Mercy” he lowered his head, passing his hands over his forehead, drying the sweat “and now? Will Jonathan get arrested?”

“He can answer freely, after he pays the bill”.

I watched Marcelo get up and walk around the room a few times.

“You deserve to be locked up”. He stopped beside me and pointed his finger at me. His eyes bugged out with every word pronounced “he deserves to stay here, so, who knows, stop being an irresponsible brat”.

“Calm down, Marcelo,” the police chief said. “Jonathan is a non-repeat offender. Post bail and hire a lawyer”.

Marcelo knew exactly what I was doing on the streets of Curitiba at that time. He knew about the races I participated in, and that’s why he imposed a punishment on me not to drive his cars for a year. But I was a fearless and strong-willed guy.

“We can get on with the process, then”.

The sheriff led my father out of the room, and they decided to pay the bail. A lawyer was called and when we finally left the police station, it was already light. I kept silent the whole time, thought, and the only thing that kept me dark was the fact that the man hit by the car could die at any moment.

“I will prosecute him for a culpable crime and could face a sentence of two to four years in prison,” the lawyer was saying, “but we can revert that sentence to community service.

Marcelo listened to everything in silence, thought. He said goodbye to the lawyer and after the man left; he turned his attention to me.

“He took my car without my permission. It damaged the BMW. You almost killed someone” your breathing was heavy “lucky for you, I didn’t mention in there the other crime you commit doing cracks”.

“I didn’t mean to run that man over,” I said at last.

“Of course there wasn’t,” it was ironic, “you participate in a race, drunk, with the intention of having fun. When are you going to become a man, Jonathan?”

I did not answer.

“Since justice certainly won’t punish you, I certainly will.” He walked around to the car and got in. I went in right away “starting today, if you want to eat, you’ll have to work. No car, no stewardship”.

“Do you swear?” I mocked, even though I knew I shouldn’t do that.

“There will be a time to get home and a time to leave,” he continued, “otherwise, you’ll sleep on the street. You will pay your own expenses starting today”.

“It would be more advantageous to be arrested,” he said, and he started the car.

“Certainly yes,” he said, “prison would be more pleasant”.

Marcelo was the most important and richest businessman in the city of Curitiba. I was from an influential family known throughout the State of Parana. I would plaster my face in all the newspapers that same day as the delinquent son of the great business executive Marcelo Campo. I knew how ashamed he felt about that. But surely hardly anyone knows what it’s like to be the son of a successful business executive. Father absence, principles not taught. I don’t remember any case, in my childhood, where my father took me to play soccer, or for a family outing. I grew up without having him by my side, and certainly, even if I denied it, I did all that to get his attention. Marcelo was always busy, increasing his fortune, while I grew up without reins. It was filling the void with cars, expensive gifts, and a simple life. Now an adult, maybe he realized that it was too late to fix the mistake of his absence.

My mother was heartbroken when she heard the news. Possibly, she was the only one who cared about me. They forbid me to leave the city and had to attend the city forum a few times. I was judged by the jury and sentenced to pay a one-year sentence with basic food baskets and community services in an orphanage.

For a few moments, I wanted to be arrested to submit to those things. I was twenty-five years old and had never worked. I woke up at six in the morning every day, took a crowded bus to go to my father’s company, and spent eight hours a day redoing reports. Furthermore, I returned home and spent more than an hour on a crowded bus. I had time to go in and out of the house, and I was getting tired of that life. Now I would have to work in an orphanage.

“He’s going to go to the orphanage at eight, and he’s going to stay there until one in the afternoon,” my father would tell me. “The rest of the day, he’ll go to the company”.

“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?”

“Do you think I’m exaggerating?” he was still furious. "It paralyzed the man you hit and will never be able to go out to work and support his family. And do you think it’s overkill?”

“I told you it wasn’t intentional”.

“And I’ve already told you that I’m not going to discuss this with you again until you learn the value of life”.

I did not say anything. I was too tired to argue with my father.

“Tomorrow you start working at the orphanage”.

“The sentence came out today, Father”.

“So what?” his words were bitter. “Comply with the court order”.

He left and left me feeling like I was living in hell.