Page 96 of Please, Forgive Me

There it was. Clear as day. I was the father.

No margin for error. Three separate labs confirming what I’d spent months denying to myself.

I. Was. The. Father.

The words echoed in my head like a punch to the gut. I felt my body sink into the chair, all the strength draining from me at once.

Shock rooted me in place.

“Well?”

“I’m the father.” My voice came out as barely a whisper, as if I was still trying to process the truth.

The weight of those words hit me full force. Alexandre didn’t smile. He just looked at me, serious, and nodded slowly.

“Congratulations. I always knew it was possible. Now the real question is—what are you going to do about it?”

My mind spun, struggling to find balance amid the chaos unraveling inside me. Memories flooded back—every time I’d treated Maria Gabriela with doubt, with disdain. And all at once, I felt like an idiot.

A complete, utter idiot.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll tell you what.” Alexandre stood, his gaze steady on mine. “No one knows better than you what you’ve done. Now it’s on you to fix it. There’s no running from this anymore. She’s out there holding your daughter.”

I kept my eyes on the paper, still trying to absorb the weight of it all.

“This isn’t about pride or business anymore,” Alexandre went on. “It’s about responsibility. It’s about being a father again. You can’t hide behind your office or your companies. This is your life now.”

He left the room without waiting for an answer.

And I stayed there—sitting, alone, with the truth.

I rose slowly, still staring at the documents in my hands.

I cared about Maria Gabriela, even if I’d never admit it. And now, I’d have to face not just my mistakes—but everything that came with them.

A child. A new life. A chance to start over.

But the question that haunted me was the one I couldn’t escape:

How the hell was I supposed to fix this?

CHAPTER 39

“Redemption is a long road, but every step is worth it…”

MARIA GABRIELA

I’d gone out for a walk with Clara, like I did most afternoons when the weather cooperated.

She loved the gentle motion of the stroller, and the simple act of walking calmed me—fresh air, quiet time to sort my thoughts.

The day was clear, the sun soft on Clara’s face as she slept.

As I neared the building, I spotted a familiar figure from a distance. My steps faltered. It was Diego, standing near the entrance, phone in hand, looking frustrated—like he was trying to call someone.

My chest gave a small jolt. I already knew he’d been trying to reach me before I even glanced down to the silent phone in my bag.