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Ava nods as if the explanation makes sense.
I set a plate in front of her, and she dives into her food. After bringing plates for Mrs. Evans and myself, along with coffee and orange juice, I sit down, and the three of us eat in comfortable silence.
“By the way, dear,” Mrs. Evans says, breaking the silence. “I let Mr. Godoy know you’ll be starting this Monday.”
My eyes widen in surprise. When Mrs. Evans brought up the possibility of me taking her place as an assistant, I thought she was joking. Then I looked up the Godoy Group—a powerful investment firm in Chile. Its next head, Vicente Godoy, lives here in London.
Why? I have no clue. The most logical thing to me would be for him to live near their assets. But who am I to judge? I may have a business degree, but I also bake cookies for a living and clean offices to make ends meet.
That’s how I met Mrs. Evans—our angel next door. She truly cares about Ava and me, helping in ways I never expected. She’s watched Ava at night while I work, stepped in when I needed support, and now… she’s trying to change my life.
“Are you sure, Mrs. Evans?” I ask, hesitant.
Working full-time will be a major adjustment. Baking from home has given me the flexibility to be with Ava, and even though school started last September, this job means I’ll need after-school care.
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Evans says with a kind smile, patting my hand. “I’ll pick up sweet Ava after school. That would still give me plenty of time to rest in the mornings and care for her in the afternoons.”
“Please, Mummy! Please! Mrs. Evans will take real good care of me. Pretty, please.” Ava puts her hands together like she’s praying. Her gorgeous, big blue eyes shine and her bottom lip quivers. There's no way I can say no.
This job will definitely be better financially, and with Ava’s medical condition, I cannot afford to say no to money. When Ava was two years old, we discovered she suffers from thalassemia—a chronic blood disorder where her body doesn’t produce enough hemoglobin. She needs constant blood transfusions and chelation therapy twice a year to remove the iron excess from her body. The disease is treatable, but experimental therapy is costly.
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my girl.
I release a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.” I know I can handle this, but I’m terrified.
“Yay. Mummy gets the big job,” Ava cheers, and the room explodes with laughter.
Despite my nerves, my heart flutters with excitement for this next chapter in my life.
“Okay, let’s finish eating because Mummy needs to buy some clothes for her new job,” I say.
Good thing I have some savings for emergencies. I can’t show up at the Godoy Group wearing jeans and trainers.
As Ava hugs Mrs. Evans, I glance at the clock. I didn’t have the guts to call Mr. Godoy back. The thought of spending the weekend stressing about how our lives are about to change feels overwhelming. Instead, I decide to savor the next two days with my daughter.
I remind myself of my mantra:anything and everything for Ava. That’s all I need to keep going.
Chapter 3
Vicente Godoy
After taking a shower, I take my time dressing, thinking how to approach my father about this ridiculous idea of me going to Chile and getting married. I’m thirty-five years old, for Christ’s sake, and he comes into my home, acting like I'm still a teenager living under his roof.
I know I’m a privileged bastard. Without my parents' wealth, I wouldn’t be where I am today. But dammit, this feeling of being at my father’s mercy—when I’ve worked my arse off to multiplymy family’s fortune—is suffocating. Somehow my father is the only person in the world who can make me feel powerless.
But I’m not ready to make a decision yet. Letting the vineyard go to a complete stranger doesn’t sit well with me, but neither does the thought of getting married. I haven’t had a girlfriend in years. The older I get, the grumpier and more selective I’ve become about the women I date.
And what is this talk of spending six weeks in Italy? Do Gabo and Isa know about this? Or are they getting ambushed, too?
Without giving it a second thought, I decide to call my brother.
“Gabo, hey. Do you have a moment?”
“Good morning, Vic. How are you? Iwashaving a great morning until you decided to rudely interrupt,” my brother replies in a mocking tone, letting out an exasperated breath.
“I’m sorry. It’s just… Mother and Father are here, and the first thing he says is that I need to go to Chile while they’re visiting you and Isa—and that I have to get bloody married.” I blurt it all out in one breath, a rush of relief washing over me as I finally vent everything that’s been bugging me since breakfast.
“Woah, hold on,” Gabo says, and I hear muffled sounds on his end. I’m sure Isabella is asking what’s going on.