1: The Mercedes

The advertising firm GOZZE has been climbing the ranks and is well positioned in the market. The firm ADAN finds itself in equal standing.
Marta Solís, CEO of GOZZE since its founding, has sacrificed her life for the company — a sacrifice that cost her her marriage nearly twenty years ago.
On the verge of turning fifty, Marta can no longer wait for romantic love the way her children Julián and Melisa still can. She had always considered herself a hopeless romantic beneath that commitment to her company and that façade of independence.
But since the father of her children passed away two years after the divorce, she has not managed a single decent date—not one conversation about anything other than work.
Julián and Melisa also work at the company. While he handles finances, she is the one pulling the strings to seek out investors and investments. Everything stays in the family.
At the industry's annual congress—one GOZZE attends every year—Marta met the CEO of ADAN: an intelligent, witty, and cultured man named Manuel.
They hit it off immediately. And a few jokes later, they had already exchanged numbers.
Manuel's only son was the company's PR manager and had apparently gone on a couple of dates with Melisa outside of business dealings, though nothing had come of it.
But the good rapport between the two executives inspired Julián, who suggested something to his mother that would have been unthinkable before.
"Mom, think about it." Julián handed her the third financial report of the day—one that had nothing to do with the other two. "A merger would be far more beneficial than a partnership."
"Julián, I've only just met Manuel," Marta said, excusing herself. "Don't you think that's a bit hasty?" She gestured at the obvious. "Not to mention rather drastic."
Melisa stepped into the meeting.
"I don't think this is something that needs to be rushed, Julián. Their PR man prefers to focus on finding clients rather than investors." Melisa crossed her arms. "That's why they have so many small clients — because their retail volume ends up converting into solid assets too."
Julián put his elbows on the table and, resting his chin in his hands, looked at his sister intently.
"Are you criticizing him or praising him?"
"Both." Melisa smiled with condescension. "May I remind you that, sharing his name, I can see the advantages and drawbacks of each way of working." She leaned back in her chair. "You can always put it to the shareholders."
"Mum holds 55% of the company's assets!" Julián protested. "She could at least raise it informally, without bringing in the board!"
Melisa gave her brother a satisfied look.
Marta rose from her chair and addressed the three men sitting on the other side of the table.
"Very well. Since I am aware that your votes are decisive in tipping my verdict one way or the other, let us put the matter to a vote."
The men exchanged puzzled glances. In previous meetings, it had been Julián and Melisa — each with their 15% — who had swayed Marta's decisions.
"Since I can see the confusion on your faces, I should inform you that my vote will be an abstention. Let us vote, then."
The three minority shareholders voted in favor of Julián, and Melisa abstained, as did Marta.
This infuriated Julián, who waited until they were out of the room to reproach his sister for forcing a vote when everyone was already in agreement.
When Marta was the last to leave the boardroom — as always — she called her children aside in her office.
"Manuel is a good man, and I have no wish to burden him with bureaucratic matters, so I will put it to him as an option, not a proposal. Are we agreed?"
Julián and Melisa exchanged a glance. They both liked that middle ground and accepted.
Marta was always the last to leave the office, and that day was no exception. She greeted the security guard, as she did every afternoon, and wished him an uneventful shift.
"Heading off already, Mrs. Solís? So early?"
"Well, not exactly, Fil — but a glass of wine at a pub on a Thursday evening isn't really going out, is it?"
"Then I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Solís. Good night!"
"Good night, Fil!"
Marta pushed through the revolving door with her usual routine—hand already reaching into her bag for her phone to check her emails.
Not many cars passed at that hour, and a quick glance at the traffic light told her she could cross, so she kept walking without stopping, heading towards her car in the car park across from the building.
As she set her first foot on the asphalt, her other still on the kerb, a dark gold Mercedes braked violently to a halt half a centimeter from her leg.
Marta did not shriek, did not cry out, did not even protest. She simply hyperventilated.
The driver got out of the car in a flash and stopped in front of her.
"Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"
A pair of chocolate-brown eyes conveyed overwhelming concern.
"What?" Marta blinked, startled, and patted her leg. "No, you didn't even graze me!"
"I would never forgive myself if something had happened to you. I'm so sorry."
Marta looked down at the car, right there between them, then back at the driver.
"You can thank the suspension on that model."
"What a pleasure — a beautiful woman who also knows her cars!"
"I'm no expert. I simply like to know what I buy." Marta smiled without restraint.
"You have the same model?"
"Mine is ash grey, but yes, the same."
The young man extended his arm slightly and offered his hand.
"Mario."
Marta studied him carefully and found him almost too attractive — so much so that she had to make an effort to look away and then back at his face.
"Marta." She introduced herself, and they shook hands.