“Is it?” you ask, voice still quiet.
Then you pull a key fob from your pocket and press it.
The pool lights shift patterns instantly, changing brightness like a stage obeying its director.
A murmur ripples.
People glance at each other, suddenly unsure which side of cruelty is safe.
Helena’s perfume can’t hide the fear in her breath.
You step closer to Lívia and Davi.
“Come with me,” you tell them.
Lívia stiffens, eyes wary, because power has never been kind to her.
“I just want to go,” she says, voice shaking.
You nod.
“You will,” you answer.
“But not like this.”
You lead them away from the crowd, toward the side hall that opens into the indoor lounge.
Behind you, whispers explode.
“Who is that?”
“Wait… is that Gustavo Vale?”
“No, he’s a myth.”
“Didn’t his wife die?”
The last whisper hits you like a nail.
Because yes, she “died.”
And yet the boy with the crescent moon breathes.
Inside the lounge, the music muffles to a distant thump.
The air smells like polished wood and expensive flowers.
You close the door and the silence becomes real.
Lívia stands with Davi tucked behind her leg like a shield.
Her voice comes out sharp, defensive.
“Sir,” she says, “if you’re going to fire me, just do it.”
You blink, shocked by how used she is to being punished.
“I’m not firing you,” you say.
Your gaze drops to Davi. “What’s your full name?” you ask him gently.
The boy peeks out, then whispers, “Davi… Davi Souza.”
Your stomach twists.
“Souza,” you repeat quietly.
That name is not yours.
Not hers either.
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