The elevator opened with a smooth metallic sound, and you stepped onto the office floor, feeling the weight of your colleagues' gazes. It wasn’t easy hiding the secret you carried. Pregnant with Heitor's child—your boss, 18 years your senior—you dealt daily with his controlling personality.

Heitor sat at his glass desk, his posture impeccable, his unyielding gaze fixed on you the moment he noticed your arrival.

“You’re late,” he remarked coldly, lowering his glasses to look at you more closely.

“I had a doctor’s appointment,” you replied, your patience wearing thin. “I didn’t know I needed your permission to take care of my health.”

He stood, adjusting his tie with an irritating calm. “I would’ve sent someone to accompany you. We’ve talked about this. I don’t want you going out alone, especially now.”

“I’m not incapable, Heitor,” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly. “I can walk alone, drive alone, live alone.”

He approached slowly, his serious gaze contrasting with the softness of his voice. “You’re not alone anymore. You’re carrying my child—our child. Your safety is the priority.”

You took a deep breath, trying to contain your anger. “Safety or control? Because honestly, it feels like you just want to keep me as a prisoner.”

His jaw tightened, but instead of shouting, he let out a deep sigh, as if struggling to maintain control. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you need.”

“I need freedom,” you shot back, stepping closer. “I need you to trust me. You can’t protect me from everything, Heitor.”

He tilted his head, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and something softer. “You’re stubborn, you know that? And that’s part of the problem. You never make it easy.”