A Second Chance For The Billionaire

14. Manoela Ferraz

The streets of the neighborhood seemed quieter than usual that night. The heavy sky, covered by dense clouds, made me wish for a storm. A thunderclap, a lightning bolt—anything to break the tension that had been building inside me since I left the restaurant with Ravi.

Walking home was a calculated choice. After work, I decided to walk. I needed time to clear my mind, to organize the thoughts that had been jumbled since lunch.

Ravi's presence, his firm words, and his determined gaze still echoed in my head. He wanted to be present. He wanted to help. He wanted to come to the next appointment.

And I had let him.

I knew the risk I was taking if Roger found out. But for the first time in a long time, a part of me needed to lean on someone. Someone who wouldn't yell at me, who wouldn't make me doubt my own worth.

The uneven sidewalk of the housing complex where we lived stretched out ahead. The streetlights flickered, as always. I climbed the steps cautiously, adjusting my bag on my shoulder, and took a deep breath before unlocking the door.

As I pushed it open, the sharp sound of the hinges sent a chill down my spine. Everything was dark.

I sighed, relieved. I thought I was still alone.

But when I turned on the living room light, he was there. Roger. Sitting on the sofa, legs apart, eyes fixed on his phone. His jacket was thrown carelessly over the backrest, his dirty boot marking the living room rug.

Adrenaline hit me immediately. I swallowed hard.

"Hi," I murmured, trying to sound natural. "I didn't know you were already home."

He slowly looked up, his jaw rigid, the muscles in his face tense.

"I got home an hour ago," he said, coldly. "And I found this place a mess."

I stood still for a few seconds, not understanding.

"A mess?"

"Yes. A mess, Manoela. Dirty dishes in the sink. Clothes still wet on the line. Bathroom with a towel on the floor." He stood up slowly, step by step, as if each word came loaded with threat. "You're home all day, and you can't even keep this place decent?"

"I was working," I replied, swallowing my fear. "And before that, I went to the clinic. The day was busy."

"Busy?" He laughed, but without humor. "My day is busy. Not yours. You just serve coffee and come home. But you can't even do that right."

I stayed silent. The urge to respond burned inside me, but reason held me back.

"I'm trying." My voice came out shaky. "It hasn't been easy..."

"Oh, it hasn't been easy?" He took another step. He was so close I could smell the faint scent of cigarette on his breath. "It hasn't been easy for me either, you know? Having to come home and find this place a dump. A useless woman waiting for me."

My hands trembled.

"I'm pregnant, Roger. Taking care of the house, working, doing everything alone... it's a lot."

"It's your own fault you got pregnant. I never wanted this."

The sentence hit me like a punch to the stomach.

My hand instinctively rested on my belly. It was more prominent now. I could feel it more clearly when I lay down. Sometimes, I even believed I could feel small movements, as if my body was starting to talk to her.

"Don't say that," I asked, my voice choked.

He brought his face close to mine. His eyes hard, dangerous. His jaw clenched.

"What if I do?"

The air left my lungs. For an instant, my body stiffened, bracing for impact. But he didn't hit me.

Roger didn't touch me.

He just stood there, looking at me with that rage boiling inside him. As if something held him back. Maybe my expression. Maybe the last shred of his own limit.

I took a subtle step back and lowered my gaze.

"I'll clean the kitchen," I murmured.

He stood still for a moment, then let out a loud sigh and walked away, heading to the bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

The walls shook.

Later, with the kitchen clean, the bathroom in order, and the smell of bleach still hanging in the air, I finally managed to sit on the mattress in the corner of the bedroom. My knees ached, my back throbbed.

Exhaustion consumed me.

But it was the silence after the storm that hurt the most.

He was in the other room now, sleeping or pretending to sleep. And I... I just wanted to disappear. I wanted to go back to that restaurant. To the warm light of the trattoria. To Ravi's low voice, asking if he could come with me to the appointment.

I said yes.

Because deep down, even with everything, I wanted someone to see me. Someone to care about my daughter. Someone to see me as more than a mistake, more than a burden.

I leaned my head against the wall and brought my hand to my belly.

"I'll protect you." The voice came out in a whisper. "I won't let anyone hurt us."

The tears fell slowly. Silent. No longer from fear. But from promise.

Because I already knew what I needed to do.

The only question was: when?

The clock was approaching midnight when I heard the deep sound of snoring coming from the next room.

Roger was asleep.

I got up from the mattress slowly, careful not to make any noise as I walked to the dark living room. The lights remained off, but the blue light from my phone screen illuminated the space with a cold glow.

I sat on the old sofa, pulled the blanket that was always draped over the backrest, and wrapped it around my shoulders. My cold fingertips slid across the cracked phone screen as I typed, hesitantly: cheap apartments for rent in London.

The browser loaded slowly. Listings began to appear.

Tiny rooms, makeshift kitchens, shared bathrooms. Everything far away. Everything expensive.

Every link I opened seemed like a cruel reminder that escaping would be harder than I wanted to believe.

Some listings seemed promising at first glance, but when I clicked... the rent consumed almost my entire salary. And that was without counting the costs for the baby, the exams, the diapers, the basics.

I sighed, leaning my head against the torn sofa backrest, my eyes teary. The phone slipped through my fingers, resting on my slightly protruding belly. My fingers caressed it, as if they could transmit some kind of tranquility.

"We're going to get out of here, my love," I whispered, almost soundlessly. "I just need a little more strength."

I didn't know where it would come from. Maybe from me. Maybe from Ravi. Maybe from some part of myself I hadn't discovered yet. But I needed to believe there was a way out.

I closed my eyes for a moment and saw myself in a different place. Small, but with natural light coming through the windows. A crib near the bed. A safe, free silence. No one yelling. No one making me feel invisible.

The vision brought tears to my eyes. Not of sadness, but of longing.

That was it. I didn't want luxury. I just wanted peace.

I sighed and looked back at the screen. I opened two more listings, saved the links. Maybe not now. But someday.

I was going to leave. Even if it was with just the clothes on my back.

Even if it was just me and her against the world.