Page 41 of Strength in Submission
"Thank you. I love what I do here."
"It shows. Which is why I'd like to offer you a promotion. Senior Digital Marketing Manager, with a team of your own and a substantial salary increase."
The offer should make me ecstatic, but all I can think about is the conversation I need to have with him. The secret I've been carrying for over a year.
"That's... that's incredible. Thank you."
"You seem hesitant. Is there something else on your mind?"
This is it. The moment I've been both dreading and hoping for.
"Actually, there is something I need to tell you. Something personal."
Victorio's eyebrows rise slightly. "Of course. What is it?"
I take a deep breath, all my carefully rehearsed words evaporating. "I need to ask you about someone you might have known. About twenty-five years ago. In northern Florida."
His expression shifts, becoming more guarded. "Go on."
"Elena Martinez. She was a journalism student at the University of Florida. She was... she was a beautiful. Latina. She interviewed you for a piece she was writing about up-and-coming journalists."
The color drains from Victorio's face. "Elena," he whispers. "How do you know Elena?"
"Because she's my mother."
The words hang in the air between us like a bomb waiting to explode. Victorio stares at me, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide with shock.
"Your mother," he repeats slowly.
"She never told you about me. She made that choice, and I respect it. But I needed you to know. I needed to know."
He's quiet for so long I start to worry he's having some kind of medical episode. Finally, he speaks.
"You're twenty-four?"
"I'll be twenty-five on Friday."
"Elena." He says my mother's name like a prayer. "I haven't spoken that name in... God, in decades. How is she?"
My throat tightens. "She passed away three years ago. Cancer."
The news hits him hard, like he wasn't expecting it. He sinks back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"She spoke about you," I say softly. "Not often, but when she did, it was with fondness. She said you were brilliant, passionate about your work. She said she knew you weren't the settling down type, so she never told you."
"She was right," he admits. "Back then, all I cared about was chasing the next story, making a name for myself. I was selfish. Reckless." He looks at me again, really looks at me. "But if I had known..."
"What? Would you have stayed? Given up your dreams?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably not, if I'm being honest. But I would have wanted to be part of your life somehow."
We sit in silence, the weight of years of missed opportunities settling between us.
"Why now?" he asks. "Why tell me this now?"
"Because I almost lost the chance. Because I learned recently that life is too short to live with regrets. And because..." I pause, thinking of Santiago, of how he's taught me to be brave. "Because I deserved to know who my father was."
The word 'father' seems to break something in him. His eyes fill with tears, and for a moment, the powerful CEO facade crumbles, revealing a middle-aged man confronting the biggest surprise of his life.
