Everything I had believed for years began to unravel, falling apart into fragments I could never put back together.
“Valentina…” I whispered, the name barely leaving my lips.
Images flooded my mind—every accusation, every humiliation, every cruel word I’d thrown at her.
My chest tightened violently as guilt replaced denial, crushing and absolute.
“My God…”
Marina remained silent, watching me with restrained compassion.
“I know this is devastating,” she said quietly. “But I felt it was essential that you knew as soon as possible. What you choose to do with this information from here on is entirely up to you.”
I stared at her, hollow and numb.
How could I even begin to repair something so monstrous?
The weight of my guilt crushed every last trace of resistance.
My mind repeated the same question over and over, merciless and endless:
What have I done?
THIRTY-SIX
VALENTINA FERRARA
The mansion’s wide, silent hallway made the exhaustion from that insane trip to São Paulo feel heavier with every step.
Enrico’s sudden change of plans had left me on edge. He’d called while I was still at my parents’ house, and something in his voice—so unlike his usual arrogant, untouchable tone—had unsettled me. There had been urgency in it. Hesitation. And something else I couldn’t name.
Since we returned, Enrico had been… wrong. Almost unrecognizable.
On the entire drive back to Tiradentes, he barely spoke. He just watched me—intensely, almost obsessively—those gray eyes loaded with something that looked like regret… or anguish.
It didn’t make sense.
Not coming from him.
I released a slow breath as I kept walking, my mind boiling with questions that refused to settle into answers. Maybe it was just another one of his games. A more sophisticated kind of emotional torture—because Enrico Ferrara had become an expert at that.
Then I heard it.
A low murmur coming from one of the rooms ahead.
I slowed automatically.
I recognized Enrico’s voice immediately—raised in a way I had never heard before.
“You don’t understand, André—” he almost shouted, and then, in the next second, his voice dropped.
I should have kept walking.
I should have turned away.
It wasn’t my business.
But curiosity—paired with the sheer strangeness of everything that had happened that day—pulled my feet toward the door.
