Episode 3

Maximo

A week passes, a damn week where my life seems to go to shit, my grandfather, who owns this company, passes away, and his damn lawyer comes to read me the will, and if I thought everything would be in order, it turns out it's not.

"Maximo, what a joy to see you despite the circumstances, sorry for your loss," he speaks with falseness. When my grandfather was in charge, he charged him significant fees for simple cases, but when I took over the presidency, everything changed, and his services were no longer required. In simple terms, the golden goose ran out of eggs.

"Cut the bullshit and get to the point; I don't have all the time in the world like you," I glare at him.

"This is the will; your grandfather said you must get married," I nod, our conversations always ended like this. "If you want to keep the company and its presidency, you must marry before your twenty-sixth birthday."

"What?!"

"Very clear, it says so here. If you want, you can check it for yourself. Personally, I told him it was crazy to do something like this, but you know how he was."

"I'll be twenty-six in a damn month, what am I supposed to do?" I walk frustrated from one side to another.

"Find a spouse by any means necessary. It's not up to me."

"I'll give you a million to cancel this," he denies. "Two million," he denies. "Ten million, damn it, but fix it."

"Even if you offered a hundred million, I couldn't do anything. Your grandfather planned everything too well, and even if I wanted to, I can't cancel this. I'll take my leave. If you need anything or have any doubts, Maximo, let me know."

"Thank you."

I punch my desk, drink a glass of whiskey, and sit down to think about how to get out of this. Get married at twenty-five? I'm still too young, and any woman would want to be with me and enrich herself, but then they would ask for love and more things that I couldn't give, exactly why I am alone.

I ask my secretary to cancel all my appointments for the day and reschedule them for next week. I call my driver to prepare the car. Two minutes later, I leave, and it's already prepared.

"Sir?"

"Home, and you can have the rest of the day off."

"Something happened?"

"Yes, my grandfather's lawyer read me the will, and I have to get married to inherit. I worked harder than anyone to grow the company and earned millions."

"What will you do?"

"Get married, but I don't even know with whom, and I have less than a month."

"Sir, I have what you asked for," he hands me a folder with information.

"Thank you very much; you're always very efficient. I'll review it right away."

"Sir, sorry for stepping where it's not my place, but have you considered that young lady as your wife?"

"I'll tell you later."

I go to my study to review that information, Lisa Ramos, 20 years old, daughter of Debora Ramos, never had a father, works too hard, no college education, and was the top of her class after finishing high school. She only had one boyfriend who coincidentally works in my company, just like her mother, and that was it. There are suspicions that her mother abuses her because she has been seen with bruises and marks on her face.

I close the folder angrily. How can such a fragile girl endure so much and not even pursue higher education? The employees in my company don't have financial problems, and we provide assistance when they have college-aged children if necessary. Maybe I can offer Lisa a contract; she is beautiful, intelligent, and it's evident that she desperately needs to escape her current situation.

I sleep, and even in my dreams, Lisa appears, but she appears crying and bruised. I wake up startled and go to the gym I have at home to vent my anger on a punching bag. I will make her my wife, it's decided, I will protect her.

I have breakfast, and my driver takes me to the company. I work for a bit, and since I have no meetings due to canceling everything, I call my driver again to take me where Lisa works.

"She's at the small restaurant where she works, do you want to go there? It's her time to leave; you might also find her there."

"Let's go to her workplace."

Note: The above paragraph is a revision of the original text while keeping the paragraph structure as requested.

I went there and chose a separate table; there weren't many people, which worked in my favor. She personally approached me, although she looked at me disinterestedly.

"Hello, I'm Lisa and I'll be serving you today. What would you like to order?"

"Hello, I'll have a cafe con leche with a ham and cheese toast."

"I'll bring it right away."

She didn't recognize me, didn't blush upon seeing me, and certainly not when speaking to me. Her voice sounded cold and controlled, and she appeared deeply sad or depressed and tired. Her clothes were worn out, faded, and didn't suit her at all. It's clear that her mother doesn't provide her with what she needs. I felt a lot of pity for her.

She brought me what I requested, placed everything on the table, and left without even looking at me. Well, at least she's not deaf or mute. The only woman I can't impress is the one I want to be my wife, I must be crazy.

I ask for the bill, she brings it to me, I pay, and I give her a $100 tip. She is too surprised.

"Sir, this is too much money. I can't accept it."

"Just take it anyway, thank you."

"Thank you very much, sir."

Tears filled her eyes because of that bill that means nothing to me, revealing how much she needs it. I'll wait for her to finish work so that we can talk.

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