“Pretend You Love Me, Please…” — Powerful CEO Begged Single Dad Right In Front Of His Ex.
She thought of Miguel, of Sofía, of her laughter, of her truth, and she promised herself something. I won’t let anyone destroy this, not money, not the press, not fear. Because for the first time, Lucía Ortega wasn’t fighting for power or recognition. She was fighting for a life worth living. And although the calm seemed to be holding, the first lightning bolts of a storm that would test everything she had built were already appearing on the horizon. The wind was blowing hard that morning. Lucía got up early with the
A mind filled with worries. For days, newspaper front pages and online headlines had been repeating the same phrase: Lucía Ortega, the CEO who swapped boards for janitors. The ironic phrase had gone viral, and what’s worse, it was signed by someone well-known, Derek Salvatierra.
Lucía read every word of the article with a mixture of anger and disappointment. Derek had gone too far. He talked about her private life, showed photos of her with Miguel and Sofía in the park, and even insinuated that their relationship was an emotional marketing strategy. The article ended with a poisonous phrase.
When passion mixes with charity, the truth always ends up tainted. Lucía threw the newspaper on the table. For the first time in a long time, she felt afraid. Again. She called her assistant. “Marta, I need to know who leaked those photos. We’re already investigating,” she replied tensely, “but it seems she got them through a photographer at the charity event. Derek paid him a fortune.”
Lucía closed her eyes, trying to control her anger. This isn’t just humiliation; it’s a declaration of war. That same afternoon, the Ortega Capital headquarters became a media battlefield. Cameras, reporters, and curious onlookers crowded in front of the building. Questions rained down.
Are you going to resign? Does your relationship with Mr. Navarro influence your business decisions? Do you use charity as romantic propaganda? Lucía walked with a firm step, answering to no one, but inside she felt the ground beneath her feet crumble. In her office, the phone rang nonstop. Some partners were canceling contracts, others were requesting official clarification.
It was the kind of chaos Derek knew how to cause better than anyone. That night, she sought refuge at Miguel’s house. He greeted her with a straight face. “I saw it,” he said without her needing to explain anything. Derek crossed all the lines. He used photos of you and Sofia. Her voice trembled. “I don’t know how to apologize.”
Miguel took her hand. “You don’t have to do this. You’re not to blame for the misery of others.” But Lucía couldn’t help but feel responsible. “All of this is affecting your daughter, your work. Lucía, listen,” he interrupted calmly. “When I met you, I knew your world was different from mine, but I never imagined someone could use so much hatred against you.” She lowered her gaze.
Hatred always finds a source when a woman doesn’t kneel. Miguel hugged her tightly, trying to calm her down, but something invisible, a shadow between them, began to grow. Over the next few days, the situation worsened. A group of investors demanded Lucía’s temporary resignation until her image stabilized.
The rumors continued to spread, and Derek, using his official account, posted ambiguous messages. Love isn’t always sincere when contracts are involved. Miguel avoided social media, but at work, his colleagues murmured. Some laughed, others looked at him with pity. One day, the manager told him, “Miguel, I understand your situation, but this is giving the hotel a bad name. You’d better take a few days off.”
“When he returned home, he was consumed by rage. Lucía was waiting for him, exhausted. “What happened? They’ve removed me from work. They say they need media reassurance.” Lucía covered her face with her hands. “My God, this is all my fault. Don’t say that.” Miguel tried to smile, but his voice sounded broken. “It’s just that our worlds don’t speak the same language.” She looked at him desperately.
And you want to give up? After everything we’ve been through. No, Lucía, I don’t want to give up, but every time someone says my name, they associate it with yours. And not as a man, but as a scandal. Tears began to stream down her face. I don’t care what they say. I do, Miguel whispered. Because Sofía hears what they say at school, and I don’t want her to grow up ashamed of her father.
Lucía wanted to hug him, but he took a step back. There was no anger in his eyes, only sadness. “We need time,” he finally said. To breathe, to think. Those words were like a sharp blow. Lucía didn’t know what to say; she just nodded silently. Days passed, and the distance between them grew wider.
Lucía continued to struggle on the business front, but her energy was fading. The press wouldn’t leave her alone. Her employees watched her warily. At home, silence replaced laughter. One night, while eating dinner alone, she watched a talk show on television. Lucía Ortega, romantic heroine or irresponsible millionaire, turned off the television and burst into tears.