My Millionaire Boss

f. Before he even grabbed the collar of my shirt, a right punch landed on Fragoso's chin. I shouldn't have started attacking so quickly, but I wasn't going to let a son of a bitch like that lay his

rd. My husband was a libertine. Everyone knew that. He had slept away several times, but he always showed up the next day full of love and gifts. But it had been three days since he had even called. That no longer made me sad. In fact, I never felt shaken by it. I didn't love him, I knew that since we got married, so it didn't bother me. What hurt me most was seeing his distance from his own son. Since Pedro was born – two months ago – he hadn't even held our son in his arms. My pain was imagining my little one with that father figure, feeling rejected in some way. — Soon he should appear and give some signal. He's probably too drunk to remember his way home. My friend also knew very well who my husband was, as did I. I was still with him because I really had nowhere else to go. And luckily for him, he was never aggressive towards me, or else he would have been in prison a long time ago. Fabi had breakfast with me, taking advantage of the fact that it was a beautiful Saturday morning and she didn't work on the weekend. We chatted for a long time, only being interrupted when my cell phone rang on the table next to the sofa. I took advantage of the fact that Fabi was holding Pedro and went to answer the phone. It was an unknown number, from a landline, so I answered it a little suspiciously. — Mrs. Ellen Souza Fragoso? I didn't have Fragoso in my name, as I didn't change my documents when I got married, but Otávio insisted on calling me that. - Yes it's me. — I rolled my eyes. — This is from Santa Fé Municipal Hospital. My heart stopped slightly the moment I heard the word hospital. It couldn't be a good thing, that was a certainty. - Something happened? I looked at my friend, who was already paying attention to me. She probably sensed my tension. — I regret to inform you, and even more so over the phone. Otávio Fragoso was admitted to the hospital last night, after a car accident, and you are listed as his emergency contact. — Yes. He is my husband. There was a brief silence on the other side, until the person, most likely a doctor, cleared his throat and spoke again. — So, Mrs. Fragoso — I hated being called that — your husband was admitted with several injuries, and we tried everything. But this morning he had a