A Second Chance For The Billionaire

9. Ravi Bonetti

The cursor blinked on the screen.

Thirty-two unread emails.

Two contracts pending signature.

A meeting scheduled for mid-afternoon.

And me? I was there, standing still, staring at nothing as if that would solve the whirlwind that had been consuming my mind since yesterday.

She's pregnant.

The words still echoed, even though they had never been spoken aloud.

The image of the girl at the café counter—the same one who had disappeared from my life five months ago like a blur of perfume and warm skin—wouldn't leave my head. The hesitant smile. The frightened eyes. The trembling hands as she handed me my coffee cup. And then... the curve beneath the apron.

It wasn't an impression. It wasn't paranoia.

She was pregnant.

And by the timing... it could be mine.

I got up from my chair and walked to the glass wall that covered half my office. The city stretched out below, gray and alive. Cars raced down the avenues like hurried ants, and down there, somewhere hidden, she was probably already working again, serving other tables, trying not to cross paths with my gaze.

Her bracelet was still in my drawer.

I never had the courage to throw it away. Nor to look for answers. It was easier to pretend that night was just that: a night. An accident between two strangers. A distraction before the world went back to being the same.

But it never went back.

Since Manu disappeared that morning, everything had become even more unbearable. The silence of the penthouse. The absence of my daughter. The empty space next to the toothbrush.

Emma, I had whispered, drunk, in the bathroom of that dimly lit pub, trying to erase a pain that wouldn't go away even with alcohol. I tried to forget them, both of them. But now... life was pulling me back. Hard.

The office door opened with a soft knock.

"You look like someone who lost a million-dollar bid," Pedro said, walking in with his blazer hanging over his shoulders and a mug of coffee in his hand. "Or like someone who saw a ghost."

I turned around, but didn't answer right away.

Pedro was my partner, my friend since college. One of the few who had been with me when everything fell apart. When I lost my pregnant wife in a brutal accident, when I locked myself away and promised I would never let anyone in again.

He deserved to know. Or at least... to help me understand what the hell I was feeling right now.

"Do you remember the girl from that night?" I asked, without beating around the bush. "From the pub. The waitress who took me home."

Pedro raised an eyebrow.

"The one who disappeared the next morning? The one called 'Manu'? Of course. You were weird for weeks because of her. Why?"

"I saw her yesterday," I said, going back to my desk. "At the café where we had coffee after the meeting. She works there."

Pedro let out a low whistle.

"This is London, my friend. The chances of running into someone random again are slim. But not impossible."

"She's not random," I shot back. "And she wasn't the same."

Pedro sat in the armchair in front of the desk and narrowed his eyes, attentive.

"How was she different?"

I swallowed hard.

"Pregnant."

Silence.

Pedro blinked slowly, absorbing the information.

"You think it's..."

"I don't know," I interrupted, before he could finish. "But the timing adds up. And when she turned to hand me the coffee, I saw it. The belly. The panic in her eyes. And then she ran to the kitchen as if I were a threat."

Pedro scratched his chin, thoughtful.

"And you didn't go after her?"

"Not there, not in front of everyone. I couldn't even think straight. But now..."

"Now you want to know."

I nodded.

The silence stretched for a few seconds, until Pedro stood up and walked to the window as well.

"Ravi... are you ready for this?"

"For what?"

"To find out that yes... that you're going to be a father. Or worse, that it's not yours. And that she left without telling you for some other reason. Have you considered that maybe she doesn't want you around?"

"I just..." I ran my hand through my hair. "I just need to know."

Pedro sighed.

"Look, you know I always support you. But this is serious. It's not like closing a deal. It's a life. And it's you putting your finger on a wound that never quite healed."

"That wound is mine. And if it's my daughter, or my son, I need to know. I can't... I can't just turn my back again. Not this time."

Pedro nodded with a half-smile.

"Then go after her. But take it slow. Don't barge in, don't pressure her. Just... try to talk to her."

"She could barely look me in the face, Pedro. She ran. Literally."

"Maybe because she's scared. Maybe because she's too alone. Or maybe because, deep down, she's waiting for you to go after her."

I sat down again, not knowing if that was comfort or another dose of anguish.

Pedro finished his coffee, left the mug on the table, and walked toward the door.

"I'll rearrange your afternoon meetings. Go. Today. Before you lose your courage."

I nodded with a tightness in my chest. Because courage was exactly what I was lacking.

But even with fear, even with everything inside me screaming to keep my distance, I knew I couldn't keep living as if she didn't exist.

She was there.

And maybe... my child too.