Page 35 of Resolute

I place a kiss on her head, ready to carry her to her room.

“Can I sleep with you tonight, Mummy?” she asks. Her eyelids flutter, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say no to this angel.

“Of course. Good night,mi amor.”

Once Ava is sound asleep, I leave my room and fire up the computer in my living room. I haven’t had a free moment to look into the name Owen Clarke left for Mr. Godoy.

But something about it doesn’t sit well with me.

I start a simple Google search with the name “Gustavo Durán” and add “Colombia”, since that’s where I’m from and where I think I’ve heard the name before.

A dozen articles come up, with titles like, “A philanthropist and Entrepreneur Helping the Cacao Farmers in Santander.”

This piques my interest. I remember Owen mentioned wanting Mr. Godoy to expand his portfolio to include chocolate along with the wine.

I think it’s a brilliant idea. If Mr. Godoy had the manpower, he could expand Hacienda Carmen into a one-stop destination for delicacies. The farm-to-table concept is big at the moment, and adding chocolate to the portfolio would be a hit.

I read the entire article, and I’m impressed by Mr. Durán’s business model and his credentials. He has successful partnerships in Mexico, Panama, and Peru. It’s only understandable that he wants to expand his business. Chile’s economy is dynamic and growing rapidly.

But why would a man with so much power need a middle man to speak with Mr. Godoy? Why not contact him directly?

I create a document with all the facts I’ve found and a couple of ideas I want to share about Mr. Godoy—just in case he decides to add this venture to his portfolio.

Before going to bed, I decide to bake a batch of cookies. I want to make a good impression tomorrow, and as my mom used to say, there’s no better way to a man’s heart than through the stomach.

Of course, I’m not doing this because I think Vicente Godoy is hot as sin, or because, lately, every time I use my pink dildo, it’s him I imagine pulling my hair as he enters me from behind.

No. I’m doing this because if I want a better life for me and Ava, I need to keep this job.

I’m up and moving before my alarm goes off. Ugh. I needed my beauty sleep today more than ever. I haven’t been this excited since I was preparing everything ready for Ava’s arrival before she was born.

I left the cookies cooling last night and prepared the icing as well, so all I have to do this morning is pipe the icing and decorate them. I hope they dry by the time I head out.

Ava is back to her little, happy self this morning, and I raise a silent thank you prayer to heaven above. I hate that there’s only so much I can do to keep my baby comfortable during her treatments.

“Do we have time for pancakes, Mummy?” Ava asks as she joins me in the kitchen.

My heart bursts with pride every time I see her getting ready all by herself. She started showing signs of independence around her fourth birthday.

I remember her asking, “What can I do as a four-year-old that I couldn’t at three?”

I bit my lip hard not to laugh—there she was turning four but thinking like a teenager.

“I’m sorry, baby. We have to hurry today. I made you porridge and cut some fruit for you, but I promise we’ll make chocolate chip pancakes this weekend,” I say, rushing around.

She immediately perks up and sits down to eat. What did I ever do to deserve this angel?

After doing my makeup and looking in the mirror for far too long, I check the cookies one last time. Luck must be on my side because they turned out perfect. I can’t wait for Mr. Godoy to try them.

I make it to the office in record time. After leaving my bag and the cookies on my desk, I head to the kitchen to brew some coffee and boil water for tea. Since it’s Mr. Godoy’s first day back, I feel like I have to cover all my bases—coffee, cookies, tea.

What if he asks for amate? No, I don’t think Chileans drinkmate.At least, I hope he doesn’t, because I didn’t bring any.

I’m staring at the coffee maker while it brews, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee takes me back to the days I would help my mom make breakfast. I remember I felt so grown up serving coffee to the adults, especially since I wasn’t allowed to have any until I turned sixteen.

“Your boss is here,” Samantha, the receptionist says as she enters the kitchen.

I jump, startled.

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