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CHAPTER 47

I sat there, stunned.

Thiago Bermudez—the man who always had a plan, who never left anything to chance—was admitting that he wasn’t in control. That he was, in some way, vulnerable to me.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned back, his gaze never leaving mine, giving me the space to process. But I knew he wasn’t going to wait forever.

Thiago wasn’t the type to give anyone endless time to figure things out.

He was patient, but only to a point.

"Say whatever you're feeling, Wifey" he suggested, his tone gentler than usual. “I don’t expect you to have an answer right now, but I need you to be honest.”

Honesty? With Thiago?

The man who thrived on power games and manipulation?

It seemed ironic. And yet, here he was, asking for something that made my chest tighten with uncertainty.

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can trust this,
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