CEO's virgin wife

Melissa lived. A woman in her forties, owner of the land where she had two houses, her own, and the living room for rent. - I was fred today. But don't worry, I have an interview scheduled at the employment agency. I

just let you know in case I don't get a job soon - she took the money out of her wallet and handed it to her -

Here's this month's rent. The woman was tall, fat and very blonde, clearly of German origin. She smoked a lot,

which gave her a thick, masculine voice. Bags under her eyes, straight disheveled hair, big breasts sprawled

across her loose t-shirt. She had a sinister and aggressive appearance. And when she drank, she embodied

the devil in a bad mood. - If you can't fnd a job, let me know straight away. Until the end of the month the house is yours, after that get out and I'll move on to someone else. - She spat on the foor. That look was a

threat, as if she were saying to him: You're not going to live for free, young lady. - I'm sure I'll get a job soon. -

she said, all dignifed. It seems like it, but you don't know, Melissa considered, terrifed. She turned her back to

him and put the key in the lock, turning it to open the door. She could feel the other's gaze boring into the back

of her head. She took a deep breath, controlling herself when the devil's key didn't come out of the hole. Okay,

no need to embarrass yourself in front of the smoker. She calmed down and fnally pushed the door. And, with the dignity of a frightened girl, she stumbled on the carpet and almost fell. - Oops! - the woman laughed

loudly. Melissa closed the door in her face. *** She sat down on the loveseat and leaned back, bringing her hands to her temples to rub them. She felt all the pressure throbbing there. Six months of doing the same

thing. Waking up early, showering and getting dressed. Breakfast was made standing up in the kitchen and

then she took the bus to the city center. I was waiting for Marieta to arrive to open the bookstore. She turned

on the lights, turned on the air conditioning and computers. She put water and coffee powder in the coffee

maker and washed the sidewalk from the pee of dogs, beggars and partygoers. She served customers, argued, sold, didn't sell, noted in the system. Now none of that. No one prepared her to face life outside the

shelter. Just as life did not prepare her for the loss of her parents and the house on the farm where she lived.

She lost her private school friends and the routine of an existence surrounded by love and care. She never

mourned the loss of her parents, as she feared she would go crazy if she gave in to extreme pain and intense

longing. Over the years, she survived opportunistic diseases, strict monitors, harassment from other orphans

and loneliness. However, she didn't want to be adopted by another family, she still belonged to hers... even in

death. She had a sandwich and a Coke for dinner, washed the dishes, took ten steps and entered her room.

She threw herself on the bed, her legs hurt from spending eight hours on her feet, her back burned. She had a

shitty job that paid little, but it was still all she had. She cried with her face buried in the pillow. She felt lost,

insecure and miserable. She ended up sleeping. 3 Melissa left the agency with a referral for two job.

vacancies. She chose to go to the frst one, which was right there in the center. A dental clinic recruited a

receptionist for six hours of work, the salary was horrible, but it was enough to pay the rent and other bills. As

she turned the corner of the indicated address, she had a legitimate vision of hell. More than ffty unemployed

women lining up to be selected for the vacancy. And how did she know that they all wanted the same job?

Well, they had the same facial expression of despair as she did. Furthermore, the agency's recruiter said it

was a highly sought after position. In other words, in musical chairs, there would be one chair for ffty asses to

try to sit on. Still, she stood at the back of the line. The most depressing conversation that existed was among unemployed people. Melissa took the headphones out of the huge cloth bag she had slung over her shoulder.

But until she found them, she was forced to listen to what they said in line. She learned that they pay the minimum wage without benefts. Unemployment hit the entire country. Whoever has a job can hold him back,

because things are difcult. My cousin hasn't worked for two years. Look, there must be a hundred people in

this line here, right? Well, most of it is to fll space on the sidewalk. They told me that they will hire those who

have the most experience with spreadsheets. English, notion of English, I also heard. Music started playing on

the headphones, and Melissa separated herself from the conversations. Two hours later, she left the interview

with the impression that they would not call her for the second phase of selection. The HR girl at the clinic

asked: - How do you see yourself in fve years? - Older. Huh, what answer did she want? She had another

route, a second option, although she felt that in the end she would be left with no option at all. The position.

was that of a nanny on a farm. The last time she lived on a farm was on her parents' farm. That's why she didn't feel comfortable going back to the same kind of life, now, without them. Furthermore, she had lived in

the urban region for ten years. The idea was to continue living in the small house behind the angry woman,

enroll in a pre-university course and go through the days one after the other. Maybe she would fnd friends at

her new job and, who knows, a boyfriend. She learned too soon that life was a house of cards that we built

with great care, only to suddenly have the wind blow stronger and destroy everything. She decided to go home

and wait to hear back from the clinic recruiter. If he didn't contact her, he would return to the agency the following week. She would only have to deal with a dilemma of conscience, as she had a job referral in hand

and was snubbing it. Just before crossing the street, he saw the rental company talking to a couple and pointing in the direction of the small house at the back of the lot. The devil intended to evict her! The right

thing to do was not to clash with her. She then decided not to return home at that moment. But as she didn't

have the money to spend time having lunch somewhere, she came to the conclusion that the best thing to do

was look at that vacancy for a babysitter. She had some money thrown in her purse. She gathered all the

banknotes plus a bunch of coins and, discouraged, discovered that she was poorer than the day before. And

what's worse, she had little money in her purse to use for bus tickets to go to the address of the babysitting.

position, on a secondary road parallel to the federal highway, and then to return to the center. What was once

a dilemma of conscience turned into an obsession. Fear always drove her forward. A shelter worker had toldher that she was a survivor, a warrior. One day Melissa wanted to consider herself more than that. She wanted

to become a winner. And, success, for her, was living without fear of everything suddenly exploding in her head. The thing about giving a thumbs up to ask for a

window and saw a lady with long, gray hair in the driver's seat and, in the passenger seat, a fat young man who looked over twenty years old, his eyes were small and slanted like those of an Oriental, his smile was kind

and childlike. . - Where do you need to go? - the driver asked after turning down the radio volume. - Rancho

and Haras Ferrari. ― that's what she said after reading the envelope from the employment agency. - Climb in

the back and I'll take you, girl. - the woman gave a thumbs-up sign. - Thank you very much! The lady is very

kind. The vehicle's bed was full of caged chickens. Melissa went up and sat on the foor. The vehicle took off

and almost knocked her out. It was then that she noticed the dumpster door open, pulled it up and locked it.

The chickens made noise, tried to get around in the cramped space, climbed on top of each other, fought and made up, or so it seemed. One of them approached the wire mesh of the cage, stuck its head out and shook

itself. - I feel like letting you go. - Melissa said to the chicken. The others seemed to get excited, fapped

their wings and then calmed down. - But I can't leave them on the road, they would certainly be run over - he

looked at them critically - I heard about the case of a lame chicken, which tried to fy, thinking it would have

speed when crossing the street. Do you want to know what happened? ― the birds turned their backs on them

― I wasn't going to tell them anyway. - She shrugged. Half an hour later, the driver slowed down in front of the

imposing masonry guardhouse a few meters away from the arched gate. When the pickup stopped, Melissa

got out and said goodbye to the chickens. She went to the driver's window and thanked him. - Are you sure this is the address? - Yes, girl, it's Sante's farm. - Thank you very much for the ride! - she smiled and then

pointed to the dumpster - I hope they don't eat the chickens. The driver frowned while forcing a smile.

Therefore, she made a strange face. Then she took off, kicking up red dust behind her. She turned to the

guardhouse that fanked the gate and saw that there was no line of unemployed people. In fact, there was

only one cowboy listening to the radio. Fear returned with a vengeance, drying your throat, shaking your legs,

racing your heart, perspiring in your hands and carefully removing the flter of common sense from the perfect

ft of your brain. In short, nervous and anxious, she became a strange person. 4 Murilo walked next to the

1.50m tall Quarter Horse, with a small head, long mane and tail. The proud bearing of a champion. The animal

was worth a high grade. He had won several titles in national and international races, in addition to providing

the best genetic material, sperm, to the market. He was a horse that loved to run, more than that, he seemed.

to live to win. And won. The farmer had purchased him as a foal at the same auction he would participate in in

the coming weeks in order to sell one of his competition horses. - Good afternoon, boss. Sante nodded and

concentrated on admiring the animal's brown fur. He stroked her neck and behind her ears. The horse shook

his head, appearing to enjoy the affection and didn't leave his side even when the rider, who had ridden him

during the awkward race, took him away. The coach was a stocky and agile fellow, with a prominent belly and

a broad swimmer's back. He didn't look in his early sixties, his smoker's voice betrayed him as someone who

didn't follow the Healthy Living Manual. - I heard that you are going to sell Spartacus. - It's our product, isn't

it? It has to be sold. - Sante commented, turning the corner of his mouth into a bitter grimace. - But we were

working on it to win the competitions. - That guy has already given his all, now he's going to retire from the

track and become the legitimate stud that he is. - Well, you're the one who knows. I think this sale is a bit.

hasty, but I'm just the coach. ― he laughed his quick, hoarse laugh. - I understand you, coach. - Sante

sympathized, taking a cigarette out of his wallet. After lighting it and inhaling, he added - Soon we will have

more resources to expand the number of stalls for renting to other horse owners and renovate the saddle

house and the barn where we store feed and hay. -Money from the bank, boss? He noticed the other's tone of

regret. - Not this time. - He simply replied, clenching his jaw. Sante Ferrari was a pragmatic and competitive

man. Perhaps such characteristics were a kind of genetic inheritance. What he would never know. He wasn't a

guy to cling to the past, investigate his origins, dwell on what he left behind. He was abandoned by his parents

as a child and adopted by a couple who wanted a hobby for their idle days, as their biological children lived in

another city. He was clothed and fed, supported and cared for in a plastic bubble. He studied at home, had no

friends, lived as a recluse. As soon as he turned 16, he left a note for the old people and hit the road. He worked on several farms until he had the money to buy his piece of land. He bought a Quarter Horse, then

another and another. When he saw it, he had a stud of racehorses. And Rancho and Haras Ferrari was flled

with money. Until he got married and, two years later, got divorced. Your ex-wife's lawyer was smarter than.

your own lawyer. Sante lost ffty percent of the farm. Fearing that he would have to share it with a partner, as

his ex-wife would sell her share, he took out a loan to have full control of the land. And that's how Sante

started to go bankrupt. He wasn't completely bankrupt yet, but it wasn't long before that happened. In the middle of the process, he met a woman in a bar. They talked little, drank a lot. There was sadness in her eyes

and a bit of need. So he knew it would be easy to discard her when her interest ended. At the time he felt.

anesthetized. For so many years he worked, fought, practically lived for that farm and then had to buy it back

for himself. He had never been in debt and now he was on the verge of bankruptcy. He got the woman at the

bar, whose name was Valéria, pregnant. He didn't even know her last name and managed the feat of having a

daughter with her. He considered a DNA test when the child was born. Brenda, however, showed straight away

who her father was. The idea then was to give good alimony and keep them apart. Unexpected fatherhood.

didn't appeal to him. Brenda came into the world strong and healthy, weighing nine pounds, her hair was a red

fuzz, and her skin was pink. As soon as the baby was born, Valéria's blood pressure rose to the point where

she suffered a seizure. Diagnosed with eclampsia, she couldn't resist and died without meeting her own

daughter. The news of her death was given to him, who was the only person in the maternity corridor. The frst

thought was to give the baby up for adoption. Plans to become a solo father were out of the question. He ended a marriage because he dedicated himself to work, he was driven by it, his entire life focused on the farm. He knew he was making a mistake by leaving his wife in second place, he justifed it by reinforcing the

idea that people abandoned people, but a man's work was his essence and for that reason it was solid and permanent. But then he thought about what his daughter's life would be like, perhaps worse than his. He was

abandoned by his parents and now he would repeat their same attitude? He therefore registered the child in his name, legally assuming him. And, from then on, Brenda became part of the Ferrari family,

grandmother and she neglected her own work, which was supervising the cook and the maid. 5 – I gathered.

information about the North American investor with whom I intend to do business. That's what Leonardo Albuquerque said, as he entered the farm ofce, took off his worn cowboy hat and extended his large, dark

hand. Sante greeted his friend and sat down again in the chair behind the reclaimed wood table, as rustic as

the rest of the place's decor. Unplastered brick walls, a counter with a coffee maker, steel fling cabinets (I

didn't trust the operating system that crashed with each update), thick carpets, light curtains and no

decorations, sobriety and masculinity in each piece bought for its usefulness and not for aesthetic reasons.

The other farmer, who was once a police chief for the city of Sacramento, sat on the leather sofa and crossed.

his legs. - I imagine you're going to tell me that the millionaire son of a bitch has given up on the business or is dirtier than chicken coops, right? -Sante stepped forward. - He's still in the running, but I'll warn you: he's a

complicated guy to deal with. He mixes personal and professional life. He made his fortune this way, forming

personal relationships with business partners and then proposing partnerships. - Summarize the shit, please.

- Sante was dry and direct, leaning back in the chair. - His situation as a single father may make him back

off from the proposal to invest in the Ferrari stud farm. Not so much because he is a father, far from it, but

because he is single. -Leonardo pursed his mouth with regret. - This is absurd. - He commented, quietly,

exasperated. - He already backed out of a million-dollar deal because he discovered that his future partner

was about to get divorced. Another time, he didn't even attend a decisive meeting when he learned through

social media that the farmer in question was a known womanizer. For him, family and business mix, like in the

mafa. - the former deputy gave him a small smile. - The problem is that this investor could change my life.

- Sante sighed, impatiently. - Contracting debts that will only be paid through third-party resources makes a person old. But I'm just warning you... I don't know if he's that radical. - Where there are rumors... - There

could also be a tremendous lie. - added the friend - If you were still married instead of having impregnated a

foreigner without a handkerchief or document, you wouldn't have to worry about anything. Sante rubbed his

stubbled jaws in a manner all his own. - This story cannot reach the American's ears. - People have already

forgotten, even more so after you took the little girl as your daughter. - Yes, the daughter I had with the

stranger - he sighed deeply, exhaling smoke through his nose - I really need John Smith's investment. -

Then you can't pee outside the potty. – joked the other. - Does he already know about Brenda's existence? -

Yes, you did some research, didn't you? ― he shrugged, resignedly ― And he asked me how long you've been married. Sante got to his feet, pissed off. - Idiot, what does he have to do with my life? He's going to inject.

money into the stud farm and get paid very well for it. What does it matter if I have a daughter without a wife

or if I hire whores to fuck? - Let's say he's a bit eccentric. - I know. - the farmer clamped his mouth tightly -

The point, Leonardo, is that if I don't raise good money soon, I'll lose more than half of my horses. I will have to

sell them at a bargain price, the prestige of Haras Ferrari will go down the drain and, soon, my animals will

receive indecent purchase offers. I will lose credibility and fall into disgrace! Devil! - Look, at least you're

warned about what you're going to fnd ahead, it won't be a surprise if he starts poking around asking

questions about you, sort of raising your profle. Sante watched the plain disappear from view. A whole life

dedicated to those lands. Nothing was inherited, given with a kiss. He had commercial acumen and a

vocation as a farmer, although he was unaware of his own origins. He knew, however, that he was different

from his parents. The proof was that he did not abandon the child who had half his DNA. He didn't lack desire.

Over the months, he avoided getting close, he didn't want to get attached to someone who had entered his life

unexpectedly. He didn't care about losing people along the way. He didn't care about being rejected by his

parents. He didn't care about having a daughter without the slightest desire to be a father. All he really wanted

was to keep his farm, his horses, the reason for his existence which, however empty and lonely, belonged only

to him. - I need money urgently, but I also need time to solve this problem. - I suggest you invite him to

dinner in a neutral place, away from his snooping eyes, and surround him with his adorable personality. Sante

turned to Leonardo with the expression of few friends. - Yeah, that's it, so nice. - the ex-delegate mocked,

laughing. - Despite the childish teasing, you gave me an idea. - Oh, I'm touched to be of service to you. - I'm

going to convince you to think like an investor and not like a rule-making millionaire. I will take the fnancial

reports, show the fgures and divert attention from my personal life. - Wow, I should have thought of that.

before. - What happened now? - He's over sixty, has lived in Brazil for years, is married to a Brazilian and

understands Portuguese, that is, he knows everything about this type of Brazilian cowboy trickery, you know?

Don't try to distract the foreigner, he's already caught all our tricks. - He winked. - Fuck it, I need this

investment and I'm going to get it. - Look, if nothing works out, start singing that song, you know? The one

that became unforgettable with Milionário & José Rico, the "Estrada da Vida". I'm sure he'll sing along and

they'll soon be great friends. – mocked the other. - You must really annoy the criminals in Sacramento, right?

The other farmer stood up, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and with a sarcastic smile,

admitted: - Well, that's what they teach us at the Police Academy, friend. 6 The stone road lined with fg trees,

the colorful birds in the highest branches, the fowers dotting the sunburned feld resembling a yellowish-

green carpet. The cloudless blue sky clouding the bucolic landscape. This whole set moved Melissa, as it took

her to the past when everyone was together without thinking that death would repel unity and life. Returning

to the feld was like touching a wound that has not yet healed. Maybe never healed. As she advanced along

the way, nervousness about the interview was replaced by a sense of recognition, or rather having ever lived

that scene. She had the impression of already knowing the place. White with blue -painted windows, the

colonial style house had a front porch with ceramic foor and mounting equipment hanging on the wall. The

old back -to -back bank fanked by the wide leaf plant of a wavy Guaimbê. The pivoting doors of solid wood

were open, so Melissa managed to see the small entrance hall and, on the wall, the hat rack in the shape of

horseshoes attached to the rosewood piece. A black cowboy hat, a well-worn type, hung from the highest

horseshoe. When she saw the cowboy hat she had déjà vu and the image of it on the head of a cowboy.

whose face she didn't remember, left her disconcerted. - Hello! She was startled when she heard the female

voice behind her. Immersed in her daydreams trying to assimilate what was happening to her, she didn't notice

the arrival of the lady with a baby in her arms. "Ah... Hi... Hello." She stumbled over her words. - Did you come.

to sell something? I hope not, the boss doesn't support street vendors. He kicks everyone away, the crowd claps when this happens. - And the street vendors? he teased her. - I think you're the First. Let's see what he

will do. - the lady winked at her, complicit. Melissa liked the woman and relaxed. - Actually, I came for the

babysitting position - she took the agency envelope out of her bag and handed it to him - Here's the guide

for the interview. - Melissa Martins... Your name is familiar