The next two weeks were a masterclass in controlled chaos. Camila worked with a singular focus she hadn't known she possessed. She streamlined the merger process, delegated non-essential tasks with an authority that surprised even her, and managed to carve out a forty-eight-hour window in her schedule. It would be brutal—a red-eye flight, a day in Lisbon, and a red-eye back—but it was possible. She booked the ticket without telling Lívia, wanting it to be a surprise.
The day before she was due to leave, she was in her office, finalizing the presentation she would give to the German board via video conference upon her return, when Ricardo knocked on her door, his expression uncharacteristically grim.
"Camila. We have a problem."
Her stomach dropped. "The German regulators?"
"Worse," he said, sitting down across from her. "Helena's firm just filed an injunction. They're alleging a conflict of interest in the original acquisition of one of the tech giant's subsidiaries. They're trying to block the entire merger."
Camila felt the blood drain from her face. Helena. Of course. It was a brilliant, ruthless move. Helena knew the case inside and out; she'd been the one to advise on that acquisition years ago, before she left the firm. She knew exactly where the weak points were.
"Can we fight it?" Camila asked, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
"It's going to get messy," Ricardo said. "And it means you and you alone are the only one who can handle this. You're the only one with the full history. This is all hands on deck, Camila. Forget Lisbon. Forget sleep. We're going to war."
The words struck her with physical force. *Forget Lisbon.* Her carefully constructed bridge was being demolished before her eyes. She looked at the flight confirmation on her laptop screen, a mocking reminder of what she was about to lose.
"I understand," she said, her voice hollow.
She spent the next three hours in a flurry of activity, mobilizing her team, pulling files, preparing for a legal battle. It wasn't until 2 a.m., alone in her office, surrounded by documents and half-empty coffee cups, that she allowed herself to break.
She pulled out her phone and called Lívia, knowing she would be asleep. It went to voicemail.
"Hey," she began, her voice thick with exhaustion and disappointment.