Camila
After putting on a show in front of everyone, I hoped Sebastian understood I wasn't playing around.
I left with my ego sky-high. Leticia was right there with me, as always — that woman wouldn't abandon me even if I jumped off a cliff. Back at her place, we threw a little party. Some of her friends came over to drink with us. Later, they invited me to go out, but I refused. I couldn't risk running into anyone connected to Sebastian — or Sebastian himself.
The next morning, I woke early. Leticia had rented a plain, nondescript car — I'd asked Afonso to find the most unremarkable one possible.
"How about a Beetle, Camila?" he joked.
"Absolutely not, Afonso! That would attract attention like a limousine." We both cracked up, and then he went to take care of it.
I got dressed — a gray hoodie pulled over my hair, ordinary glasses without a prescription. I didn't want to draw the attention of a single reporter. Sebastian was a well-known businessman, powerful, constantly in the news. Everything he did seemed to fascinate the entire city. Last night I'd challenged him in front of everyone — press, powerful businesspeople, friends and enemies. They'd be camped outside the registry office for sure.
We parked in a discreet spot and waited. When Sebastian arrived, he was swarmed by a battalion of reporters. Leticia and I couldn't stop laughing at his face — he looked like he'd swallowed a porcupine whole.
After he shook them off and climbed the steps into the registry office, I slipped in after him, disguised.
Nobody gave a second glance to a shapeless figure in a gray hoodie — impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman.
Inside, Sebastian was checking his watch impatiently. When I entered, he didn't even notice me at first. Then, after a few seconds, his gaze locked on.
"Camila?" he asked, incredulous. "I can't believe you showed up dressed like that."
"Keep your voice down, Sebastian. My head is killing me."
"You were drinking?" He was livid.
"Let's get to the point," I cut him off.
Our lawyers arrived, and the notary called us in. He asked if both parties were in agreement. Sebastian stared me down. I was terrified he'd say no.
"Yes. We've discussed it. We're in agreement."
He handed the papers to the lawyers. When Sebastian's attorney pointed out that I was renouncing everything — no house, no money, no car, nothing — I felt Sebastian's surprise.
"I don't agree. The house we lived in is yours, along with everything in it. I'll keep paying the bills and the staff, and I'll give you a monthly allowance of ten thousand reais for personal expenses."
"I don't need charity, Sebastian! I don't want anything from you or your family."
"Why so much pride? You wanted this marriage so badly — what for?"
"When did I want this marriage, Sebastian? When did I say I wanted to get married at seventeen because of someone else's scheme?"
He had nothing to say. Four years of suffering without being heard or believed. He'd never taken my word for it, even though all he'd had to do was pay someone to investigate and they'd have confirmed everything I'd been saying. He'd never bothered to expose my lying brother, who'd spent those years riding Sebastian's name for personal gain. And every time Marcelo caused a mess, it was me Sebastian took his rage out on. The only reason he never hit me was that his father, Osvaldo, and his grandfather, Manoel, had warned him: lay a hand on her, and he'd lose the presidency of the company. And of course, Sebastian would never give up being the great CEO of Medeiros Enterprises.
"Your pride is wounded — I get it. But I don't want you ending up with nothing. You know you can't count on Marcelo."
"God forbid I ever depend on either of you. I don't want anything, Sebastian. Stop pretending you care about me. And don't worry — I have no intention of ever seeing you again after today."
"Found somebody to support you, Camila? Think some rich old man is going to give you what you need?"
"Worried, Sebastian? Use your money to bankroll your porn star."
"Camila! Show some class! You know your useless brother will come begging for money the second he hears about the divorce."
"That's not my problem. If you want to give him money, go ahead. I'm leaving this city. The only reason I'm still here is because this divorce took so long."
We signed. He left without bothering to ask where I was going. I told him I didn't know yet, but that was a lie. I'd already bought a house in the interior of Goias — a small, charming town where I planned to be very happy.
I headed back to Leticia's house, making sure Sebastian was long gone before I got into the car. He was unbearably narcissistic. The fact that I was the one ending this marriage infuriated him. It was always about him.
Sebastian didn't know me. We'd lived in separate worlds under the same roof. When my brother had dragged me to the Medeiros family mansion, I'd thought it was just another extortion scheme — I was a minor, and if he'd gone to the press, it would've destroyed Sebastian's reputation. But Grandpa Manoel pulled Osvaldo aside. When they came back, they announced we'd be getting married. I nearly died. Sebastian was radiating hatred. I was terrified he'd hurt me, but nothing I said could change their minds.
After the wedding, when Sebastian treated me with open contempt, Grandpa Manoel sat me down for a talk. He offered me a chance to study.
"Listen, sweetheart. I wanted my grandson to marry you because I want him to have a family. You're a good girl — I could see the fear in your eyes. Your brother absolutely set that whole thing up. Camila, you're going to get an education. Forget about Sebastian. What do you want to be — professionally?"
"If I could be anything, I'd be a fashion designer. I want to be a great designer."
"Then it's settled. You're studying fashion design."
At first, I didn't have much faith in the plan. But when the university reopened after break, I started the program. I tried to tell Sebastian about it, but he showed zero interest, so I kept quiet.
I already knew how to sew — my mother had taught me. I'd been making my own clothes since I was thirteen.
By the first semester, I was designing pieces with a distinct personality. My friend Leticia loved them so much that I started making outfits for her — she wore them to events, on TV shows. I named the brand Bia Max. Once Leticia started promoting it, orders poured in faster than I could keep up. I got organized, rented a proper space, found seamstresses who'd known my mother, and we started working together. The brand grew. Because the clientele were wealthy and famous, the prices had to match — premium fabrics, flawless execution.
Today, Bia Max was a phenomenon. The brand dressed wealthy women across Latin America and North America, had already expanded into Europe, and was breaking into Asia. I was proud of what I'd built. Nobody knew who Bia Max was. The mystery had become its own sensation — everyone wanted to know who was behind the stunning designs worn by women around the world.
For now, I had no desire to reveal myself. I didn't feel safe. Sebastian assumed I was going to starve. He was going to lose his mind when he found out he'd been married for four years to a famous woman that nobody knew — including him.
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