When he speaks, it feels like every word has been carefully weighed beforehand.
Everyone in the office respects him.
But with me, he was always a little different.
More patient.
More understanding.
There were times when my sales numbers were bad and the company board wanted explanations. Ricardo defended me more than once.
One time he even postponed an important executive meeting to help me finish negotiating a deal that was about to collapse.
After that day, I started seeing him as more than just a boss.
Almost like the older brother life never gave me.
Still, there was something strange about him.
In eight years working together, I knew almost nothing about his family.
Ricardo rarely talked about his wife.
And almost never about his son.
We only knew he had one because he mentioned it casually once during a meeting.
No photos on his desk.
No family stories.
No holiday pictures.
One afternoon we were drinking coffee on the company terrace and I joked with him.
“Hey, boss… are you hiding your family from us or what?”
He chuckled briefly.
“They’re very private people,” he said.
Then he changed the subject.
And I never pushed further.
Life continued the same way.
Work.
Deadlines.
Meetings.