Chapter 18 — Forced Rest
Two days had passed since the inauguration of the new sawmill.
And, for the first time in more than a month…
Luis was not working.
Or rather—
He was not working because he had been forbidden to.
He was lying in a hammock in the garden of the main house, gently swaying beneath the shade of a large tree.
Beside the hammock, sitting on a small wooden bench, was Teresa.
Between them sat a basket with some fruit, bread, cheese, and a small bottle of juice.
Teresa also had an open book in her hands.
To anyone looking from a distance…
It would appear to be a peaceful meeting between two young people enjoying a pleasant afternoon.
But the reality was a little different.
Luis was there by force.
During the entire past month he had barely slept properly.
He woke up early.
Went to bed late.
And spent the entire day between the sawmill, the workshop, and the construction plans.
When the inauguration finally ended…
Luis returned home.
Entered his room.
And simply collapsed onto the bed.
He slept for more than thirteen hours straight.
At one point, Helena even became worried.
She quietly entered the room just to check if her son was still breathing.
When she saw his condition—completely unconscious, sprawled across the bed—she simply sighed and left.
The next morning, Luis woke up still tired.
And tried to return to his room after lunch.
But Helena stopped him.
"Don't even think about it."
Luis blinked.
"But mother—"
She crossed her arms.
"You will stay awake during the day."
"And you only go back to your room when night comes."
Luis tried to argue.
He failed miserably.
So he decided to accept the punishment.
And invited Teresa to spend the afternoon with him in the garden.
Now he slowly swayed in the hammock.
"My mother is cruel…" he murmured.
Teresa laughed.
"She's worried about you."
Luis sighed.
"I just wanted to sleep a little more."
Teresa turned a page of her book.
"You've already slept a lot."
Luis closed his eyes.
"Not enough."
Teresa watched his face for a few seconds.
There were dark circles under his eyes.
But there was also an expression far more relaxed than in the past few weeks.
She picked up an apple from the basket and held it out to him.
"Eat."
Luis opened one eye.
"Is this part of the torture?"
"It's part of you recovering your energy."
Luis took the fruit.
"You're on her side."
Teresa smiled.
"Of course."
He took a bite of the apple.
For a few minutes, the two remained in silence.
The wind gently moved the leaves of the trees.
The hammock swayed slowly.
And, for the first time in weeks, Luis was truly resting.
Meanwhile, in the main house…
Augusto was sitting in his office.
Several papers lay before him.
But one in particular had caught his attention.
The sawmill report.
More specifically…
The report from the first two days of operation.
He read the numbers again.
And then his smile grew even wider.
Production had increased drastically.
Cutting time had decreased.
And wood waste had dropped by nearly half.
Augusto leaned back in his chair, satisfied.
Whenever he encountered Miguel in the corridors, he found a way to mention Luis.
"Your son did a good job helping with the sawmill."
Or sometimes:
"Luis had an excellent idea there."
But it wasn't just Miguel.
In fact…
It was practically everyone.
If a maid passed through the corridor, Augusto would say:
"Keep up the good work."
And then add shortly afterward:
"And see if Luis needs anything."
Or he would tell a farm worker:
"Luis needs time to think about new ideas."
"Let's make sure he has peace and quiet."
Augusto seemed determined to remind everyone of one thing.
His son was extraordinary.
At one point in the afternoon, Augusto found himself alone in the office.
He stood up and walked to the window.
He looked out over the property.
And sighed.
Because there was one thing he knew for certain.
Luis was hiding something from him.
But it didn't bother him as much as it could have.
In Augusto's mind, the explanation was simple.
Luis had always loved reading.
He always carried books.
Even when he went out with Matheus on some adventure, he often had a book tucked inside his leather bag.
So, to Augusto, the conclusion was logical.
Luis had studied in secret.
For years.
Perhaps longer than anyone imagined.
Intense study.
Accumulated knowledge.
Theoretical experience.
As for practical experience…
Augusto shrugged.
Geniuses don't need to worry too much about that.
He crossed his arms, looking out the window.
"My son is a genius."
He murmured to himself.
And added with a small, arrogant smile:
"If yours isn't… that's your problem."
The smile returned to his face.
But it disappeared immediately when—
BAM!
A tray slammed loudly onto the desk.
Augusto almost jumped out of his chair.
Helena was standing there.
He hadn't even noticed when she entered.
She held a tray with coffee and cake.
But the look she gave her husband was extremely dangerous.
She crossed her arms.
"Augusto."
He swallowed.
"Yes… dear?"
Helena narrowed her eyes.
"If you keep bothering the workers because of Luis…"
She leaned slightly over the desk.
"I will make you regret it."
Augusto blinked.
"I was only praising—"
"No."
She pointed a finger at him.
"You are disturbing everyone."
Augusto opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
And simply nodded slowly.
"Understood."
Helena placed the cup of coffee in front of him.
"Drink."
Augusto carefully picked up the cup.
And decided that for the rest of the day…
It would be better to remain quiet.