Victor Ventura walked into the office that morning determined to forget Camile.
It was a simple decision.
Or at least it should have been.
He already had more than enough problems to occupy his mind.
Important cases.
Hearings.
Meetings.
Clients waiting for answers.
There was no room to keep thinking about a woman he'd met in a bar.
Much less a woman who, after one night together, had decided to treat him as if he were completely irrelevant.
And that was exactly what bothered him most.
Victor entered his office, set his briefcase on the desk, and took off his jacket.
“Forget that woman.”
He said it to himself.
He sat down.
Opened a case file.
Read the first page.
By the second, he realized he was thinking about her again.
He closed his eyes.
“Hell.”
His cell phone rang.
It was Rafael, one of his oldest friends and an attorney at one of the city's biggest firms.
Victor answered.
“What's up?”
“Are you busy?”
“Always.”
“Then I'm coming over.”
“Rafael...”
“I'm already in the elevator.”
The call ended.
Victor let out a sigh.
A few minutes later, Rafael entered the office without bothering to knock.
The two of them had known each other for years.
They'd studied together, moved in the same circles, and shared countless stories.
Rafael knew Victor far too well.
Maybe that's why he immediately realized something was wrong.
“You look terrible.”
Victor looked up.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Rafael sat down across from the desk.
“Is this about the woman from the restaurant?”
Victor went still for a moment.
“No.”
Rafael smiled.
“Then it is.”
“Don't start.”
“I just asked.”
“And I answered.”
Rafael crossed his arms.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You always get irritated when someone gets it right.”
Victor ignored him.
“What did you come here for?”
Rafael opened a folder.
“I came to talk about a deal that's probably going to land on your desk in the next few days.”
“Which one?”
“Victoria Group.”
Victor kept looking at the documents.
“So what?”
Rafael raised an eyebrow.
“You don't know who owns it?”
“No.”
“Camile Victoria.”
Victor stopped.
It was only a second.
But Rafael noticed.
“Wait.”
Victor slowly lifted his eyes.
“Say that again.”
“Camile Victoria.”
The name seemed to echo through the office.
Camile.
Victoria.
The same name.
The same woman.
The same face.
The black dress.
The crooked smile.
The woman who had spent the night with him.
The woman he had treated like a mistake.
Victor leaned back in his chair.
“No.”
Rafael frowned.
“No what?”
“It can't be her.”
“Why not?”
Victor fell silent.
Rafael opened a document.
“Camile Victoria. CEO and principal shareholder of Victoria Group. One of the most influential businesswomen in the country.”
Victor didn't touch the document.
“Are you sure?”
Rafael let out a laugh.
“You really didn't know who she was?”
The question was laced with amusement.
Victor ran a hand over his chin.
“No.”
“You really didn't know?”
“I said I didn't.”
Rafael broke into a grin.
“My God.”
Victor shot him an irritated look.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Spit it out.”
“You spent the night with Camile Victoria and had no idea who she was?”
Victor grew even more serious.
“That doesn't matter.”
Rafael laughed.
“Of course it matters.”
“Why?”
“Because you spent the whole night acting like you'd picked up just another woman in a bar.”
Victor didn't answer.
Rafael continued:
“Do you know how much her group is worth?”
“I don't care.”
“More than most people can imagine.”
Victor stood up.
He walked to the window.
“I don't need to know how much money she has.”
“It isn't just money.”
Rafael picked up his phone.
“It's influence.”
He began showing him some information.
“She closed a billion-dollar deal last year.”
Victor glanced at it.
“She has stakes in technology, construction, energy, and investment companies.”
Another document.
“She has appeared on lists of the most influential women in the country.”
Another page.
“And they say she's extremely difficult to negotiate with.”
Victor remained silent.
Rafael studied his friend's expression.
“Now I get it.”
Victor turned around.
“Get what?”
“Why she seemed so calm when you tried to provoke her.”
Victor didn't answer.
The memory of that night came back.
She hadn't asked how much he made.
She hadn't shown any interest in his profession.
She hadn't wanted to know about his influence.
She hadn't tried to impress him.
She had simply talked to him.
As if he were only Victor.
And for the first time, that took on a different meaning.
She hadn't been impressed because she didn't need to be.
She didn't need anything he could offer.
Rafael noticed his silence.
“You're remembering what you said to her, aren't you?”
Victor looked away.
“No.”
“You are.”
“Rafael...”
“What did you say?”
Victor clenched his jaw.
“Nothing important.”
Rafael smiled.
“Then why do you look like that?”
Victor didn't answer.
Because now he remembered every word.
*Women who go to bed on the first date usually expect something afterward.*
And then:
*I don't repeat mistakes.*
At the time, he had felt superior.
He'd believed he had made everything perfectly clear.
Now, sitting there with the information about who she was in front of him, he felt something he didn't like.
Shame.
Not because of the night.
Not because of the desire.
But because of the way he had treated a woman who owed him absolutely nothing.
He had been arrogant.
Cruel.
Unnecessarily so.
And there was no justification that could change that.
Rafael closed the folder.
“You regret it.”
Victor immediately replied:
“No.”
“You do.”
“I don't regret it.”
“Then why do you look like you'd like to go back in time?”
Victor turned toward the window.
“Because I didn't know who she was.”
Rafael grew serious.
“That doesn't make what you did any better.”
The words hit him squarely.
Victor fell quiet.
Because he knew it was true.
If Camile had been a waitress.
A student.
A small-business owner.
A woman without money.
Nothing would have changed.
She still would have deserved respect.
The fact that she was a powerful CEO shouldn't have made any difference.
And that was exactly what made everything worse.
Victor had made the mistake of judging someone without even knowing her.
“I was an idiot.”
He finally said it.
Rafael smiled.
“Finally.”
Victor turned around.
“Don't get used to it.”
“Never.”
The two men were silent for a few seconds.
Then Rafael asked:
“Are you going to look for her?”
Victor hesitated.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Victor picked up his jacket.
“Because she clearly doesn't want to talk to me.”
Rafael stood up.
“Maybe.”
“It's not a maybe.”
“Then you really don't know women.”
Victor let out a dry laugh.
“I know enough.”
“No. You know the ones who make you comfortable.”
Victor grew serious.
Rafael picked up the folder.
“Camile doesn't seem like that kind.”
Then he left.
Victor was alone.
A few minutes later, he opened his computer.
He typed the name.
**Camile Victoria.**
The page loaded.
The first photograph appeared.
Victor went still.
It was her.
But it wasn't the Camile he'd met that night.
In the photograph, she was at a business event.
Light-colored suit.
Hair pulled back.
Microphone in hand.
Businessmen and officials stood beside her.
The caption read:
**Camile Victoria Announces Victoria Group's New Billion-Dollar Investment.**
Victor scrolled down.
Another photograph.
She was accepting an award.
Another.
She was giving a speech at a conference.
Another.
She was standing beside foreign investors.
Another.
She was being interviewed.
Victor kept scrolling.
The more he researched, the more he realized that he hadn't known a damn thing about that woman.
Camile Victoria had built an empire.
She had started young.
She had taken control of her family's company after a crisis.
She had rescued businesses that were on the verge of collapse.
She had bought out competing companies.
She had created new divisions.
She had expanded internationally.
And she had done it all without depending on a husband, a father, or a man's last name.
Victor leaned back in his chair.
“Who are you?”
The question came out softly.
He opened an interview.
The journalist asked:
“What was the most difficult moment of your career?”
Camile answered:
“When I realized that many people were more interested in watching me fail than in recognizing my work.”
Victor stared at the screen.
She continued:
“So I stopped trying to prove I was capable. I just started doing it.”
Victor felt something strange.
Admiration.
It was a new sensation.
And a dangerous one.
He kept watching.
The journalist asked:
“Do you believe you need someone by your side to keep all this going?”
Camile gave a small laugh.
“I like companionship. Not dependence.”
Victor froze.
The answer sounded as if it had been meant for him.
She continued:
“A relationship should add to your life. It should never be a necessity.”
Victor closed the video.
He stared at the screen.
That woman had exactly the same bearing she'd shown that night.
He just hadn't understood it.
He'd mistaken it for arrogance.
Now he realized it was confidence.
He had confused self-assurance with conceit.
And independence with provocation.
Victor picked up his phone.
He opened her name again.
There were hundreds of news articles.
Interviews.
Photos.
Deals.
Awards.
Camile was everywhere.
It was impossible to believe that he had slept with that woman and then treated her as if she were disposable.
He dropped the phone onto the desk.
He stood up.
Walked to the window.
The city looked small below.
For the first time, Victor Ventura felt that he had made a mistake he couldn't simply erase.
Not because Camile was powerful.
But because he had underestimated a woman who had shown him exactly who she was from the very first minute.
He was the one who hadn't seen it.
That night, Camile was at home.
Sitting on the couch, she was reviewing some documents.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Vanessa.
**Did you see who was at the restaurant yesterday?**
Camile replied:
**Victor?**
**Yes.**
**I did.**
**He seemed bothered.**
Camile smiled.
**His problem.**
She put her phone away.
She didn't know that, at that exact moment, Victor was looking at a photograph of her on his computer screen.
A professional photograph.
Camile stood before hundreds of people.
Confident.
Elegant.
Powerful.
Victor watched her for a few seconds.
Then he opened one article.
Then another.
And another.
Each piece of information made the extent of his mistake more obvious.
He had thought Camile was just a beautiful woman who liked provoking him.
He hadn't imagined that she was one of the most influential women in the country.
He hadn't imagined that her company moved billions of dollars.
He hadn't imagined that her name was respected by people he himself encountered every day.
And, most of all, he hadn't imagined that the woman he had sent away from his apartment could simply go on living as if he had never existed.
Victor sat down again.
He ran a hand over his face.
The shame returned.
This time, stronger.
He remembered the expression on her face that morning.
Calm.
Controlled.
She hadn't cried in front of him.
She hadn't argued.
She hadn't asked for an explanation.
She had only said:
*I'm not expecting absolutely anything from you.*
At the time, he had interpreted it as pride.
Now he realized it was the truth.
She really didn't need him.
And maybe that was exactly what bothered him most.
Victor closed the computer.
But before he did, he opened the last photograph again.
Camile was smiling in front of the cameras.
He watched that smile for a few seconds.
“I really had no idea who you were.”
For the first time, there was no arrogance in his voice.
Only admiration.
And a deep sense of unease.
Because Victor was beginning to understand something he would never admit out loud.
The woman he had tried to diminish that morning was exactly the kind of woman he should have respected from the very first moment.
And now it might be too late to fix it.