I would not let them interfere in my life—or Clara’s.
My daughter would never need to know the past I had buried or the battles waiting ahead. Because I was her mother, and that was my most sacred promise.
Enrico Ferrara would remain a shadow from my past—until the day I finally erased him completely.
He was too big for a place like Tiradentes. He probably didn’t even know this project existed.
And I didn’t care if he did.
That man had taken enough from me once.
With the strength I’d built over five years, I would not let him take anything else.
Not even my peace.
FIVE
ENRICO FERRARA
“A glass of wine, Mr. Ferrara?”
I looked at the waiter standing in front of me—posture perfect, silver tray extended—and for a brief second, I wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave without speaking to a single person.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have that luxury.
“Not now,” I said coolly. “Thank you.”
He nodded and disappeared into the crowd of elegantly dressed guests moving through the enormous ballroom, decorated with an almost obscene level of luxury.
Eloá Ferrara’s birthday was always an event.
Not just a party—an obligation. Meticulously planned, engineered to force the Ferrara family to present the world with a perfect façade of unity and harmony.
It was almost unbearable irony.
“You could at least pretend you’re happy to be here,” André’s amused, provoking voice appeared beside me, yanking me out of my thoughts.
I turned and shot him an irritated look. My brother was smiling, entertained by my displeasure.
“I don’t have to pretend with you,” I said quietly, scanning the room. “You know exactly how I feel about this.”
The party was packed with influential people—powerful businessmen, ambitious politicians—all there to honor the Ferrara matriarch. But more than that, they were there to see and be seen.
Hypocrisy practically hung in the air.
“I know,” André replied with a dramatic sigh. “You hate every second of it. And yet here you are. And you’ll stay until the end because it’s what our dear grandmother expects. And you never say no to her.”
I fixed him with a cold stare.
“I could say no if I wanted to.”
André lifted an eyebrow, utterly unconvinced, then let out a short, mocking laugh.
“Sure. Try telling Eloá Ferrara no and see what happens.” He raised his own glass in a fake toast. “Honestly, that might be an entertaining spectacle. I’ll even make popcorn.”
I exhaled slowly, controlling the irritation rising in my throat. André knew exactly how to get under my skin. Worse—he was right.
I had never dared defy our grandmother. She had controlled every detail of our lives since our parents died, and I learned far too young that fighting her control was pointless.
