38.
AURORA VALEN?A
I kissed Dante at six in the morning and spent the rest of the day pretending to be normal in front of three children who noticed every change in my breathing.
“Mommy happy,” Elisa announced at breakfast.
“I’m drinking coffee.”
“You’re smiling.”
I controlled my mouth.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Tomás looked at me.
“Daddy coming?”
“Maybe this afternoon.”
“Then it’s him.”
“What is?”
“Smile.”
Cecília agreed.
“Daddy makes.”
“Eat.”
Mrs. Lurdes entered.
She looked at me.
Then at my carelessly tied hair.
Then at the time.
“Where were you?”
“At home.”
“Liar.”
“I went to see Dante.”
All three children looked at me.
A mistake.
“He’s hurt,” Tomás said.
“I went to change his dressing.”
A partial truth.
“For a long time?” Mrs. Lurdes asked.
“Long enough.”
She smiled.
“Do not say anything.”
“I did not.”
She said it with her entire face.
I took the children to school.
On the way, Elisa returned to the subject.
“You kissed Daddy?”
I almost tripped.
“Why do you ask?”
“When I get hurt, you kiss.”
“I kissed the dressing.”
The absurd lie escaped me.
“On shoulder?” Tomás asked.
“Near it.”
Cecília wrinkled her nose.
“Dressing can’t feel.”
“Exactly,” I said.
“Then why?”
“To show affection.”
Elisa smiled.
“You like him.”
“He is your father.”
“That doesn’t answer,” she said, imitating something she had heard.
Children were dangerous mirrors.
“School,” I announced.
I delivered all three.
Returned to the studio.
The board vote would begin at ten.
I was not involved.
Even so, I watched my telephone.
At ten twenty, Dante sent:
They have not begun. They are discussing whether I may participate remotely.
I answered:
Is Pérola there?
Yes.
Then let her work.
I am.
It does not look like it.
I have three screens open.
Close two.
There was a pause.
I closed one.
Dante.
Two.
I smiled.
I worked.
At eleven forty:
Vote concluded.
My heart accelerated.
And?
I was not removed. Seven to five.
I released the air.
Pérola presented the audit and documents. Two board members changed their votes.
Are you all right?
There was a pause.
Yes. My father built part of the board. Five voted to conceal it. Now I know who they are.
Pain existed beneath the answer.
Do not do anything today.
I need to suspend access.
Is that security or revenge?
A long silence.
Both.
Then wait until you separate them.
All right.
He listened.
That was trust.
Or its beginning.
That afternoon, Miguel arrived.
“We have a problem.”
My stomach tightened.
“Otávio?”
“He requested to speak with his lawyer. Claims he will provide information about your parents’ deaths in exchange for an agreement.”
I sat.
“What information?”
“He says Ant?nio Ferraz ordered the car sabotaged.”
The world became silent.
“That is a lie.”
“Probably partly.”
“Do not say probably.”
“I cannot guarantee it.”
“Does Dante know?”
“Not yet.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“I came to you first.”
It was what I had requested.
Even so, the weight fell on me.
“I want to speak to Otávio.”
“No.”
“Miguel.”
“It is not safe.”
“He is in custody.”
“He still manipulates.”
“I want to look at him.”
“Why?”
“To know.”
“You said knowing someone does not prove you can identify a lie.”
“I said that about my parents.”
“It applies.”
He was right.
“Then come with me.”
“I can arrange it with the police and attorney.”
“Today.”
“Aurora…”
“Today.”
Miguel nodded.
I called Dante.
“Otávio says your father ordered my parents killed.”
Silence.
No attempt to soften it.
“Where is he?”
“In custody.”
“You?”
“At the studio.”
“I’m coming.”
“No. It will take too long, and you are injured.”
“Aurora.”
“Miguel is here.”
“I don’t care.”
“It matters to me.”
Silence.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“Speak to Otávio.”
“I do not want you to.”
“I know.”
“But I will not prevent it.”
“Thank you.”
“I want to be there.”
“Video.”
“No.”
“That is the most I can offer.”
He breathed.
“All right.”
“And do not hide it if you discover something first.”
“I won’t.”
The interview was scheduled for four.
Inside a room at the regional police station, I sat before a pane of glass.
Otávio entered in handcuffs.
He looked smaller.
Even so, my body recognized fear.
Dante appeared on a screen beside me through a secure connection.
Miguel and the investigator stood behind us.
“Darling,” Otávio said.
“Do not call me that.”
“I always did.”
“And robbed me.”
“I saved the museum.”
“Did you kill my parents?”
His face did not change.
“Ant?nio wanted total control.”
“That does not answer.”
“Your father threatened to report him.”
“And what did you do?”
“I attempted to persuade him.”
“Did you sabotage the car?”
Otávio looked at the screen.
“Ask Dante about his father.”
Dante answered:
“I am asking you.”
“Ant?nio paid. I solved problems.”
My stomach turned.
“Did you solve my parents?”
“The accident happened on a dangerous road.”
“Yes or no?”
Otávio smiled.
That smile from the church.
“Your father was stubborn.”
I stood.
“Enough.”
“Aurora,” the investigator said.
“He will not confess. He wants me to imagine it.”
Otávio moved closer to the glass.
“There is a mechanical report.”
I stopped.
“Where?”
“Safe.”
“With whom?”
“My attorney receives instructions if anything happens.”
“álvaro died,” I said.
The smile disappeared.
“álvaro was careless.”
“Did you kill him?”
“I did not touch him.”
“You ordered it.”
“Prove it.”
My body trembled.
Dante spoke through the screen.
“Otávio, you want an agreement. Produce the report.”
“I want guarantees.”
“I have no authority.”
“You have money.”
“I do not purchase silence.”
“Then Aurora will never know.”
I looked at my uncle.
“I already know enough.”
“You do not know whether your parents suffered.”
Cruelty.
Miguel caught my arm.
“No.”
I had not realized I moved closer.
“You raised me,” I said. “You sat at our table. Told stories about them. Brought flowers to their graves.”
“I did what was necessary.”
“For what?”
“The museum should have been mine. Your father inherited everything. I received nothing.”
“Then you killed him?”
The mask cracked.
Anger.
“He would have destroyed decades of work over morality.”
My heart stopped.
“You did it.”
Otávio realized too late.
So did the investigator.
“That was recorded,” he said.
My uncle stepped back.
“I did not confess.”
“You admitted motive and involvement in the conflict.”
“It does not prove sabotage.”
“But it helps.”
I sat.
My legs would no longer hold me.
Dante remained on the screen.
Pale.
One hand closed.
“Aurora,” he called.
I looked at him.
“Leave.”
Not an order.
A request.
I left.
In the corridor, I vomited.
Miguel held my hair.
Then brought water.
“I want Dante,” I said.
Not the children.
Not Mrs. Lurdes.
Dante.
Miguel handed over the telephone.
“I am here,” he said.
“He killed them.”
My voice broke.
“It appears so.”
“My father discovered everything and Otávio killed him.”
“Yes.”
“Your father paid him.”
Dante closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Perhaps not for the murder.”
“Perhaps.”
“I hate your surname.”
Pain crossed his face.
“So do I now.”
“Do not say that.”
“All right.”
“I want to go home.”
“I’ll come to you.”
“You cannot drive.”
“Driver.”
“The children leave school in one hour.”
“We collect them together.”
The need for routine.
“All right.”
When we reached the school, Dante was already waiting inside the car.
He got out with difficulty.
I went toward him.
I did not think about the street.
Security.
People watching.
I embraced him.
Dante held me with one arm.
“He killed them,” I repeated.
“I know.”
“I left my children with the man who killed my parents.”
“You did not know.”
“He never touched them.”
“No.”
“He could have.”
“But he didn’t.”
The children appeared.
Elisa ran.
“Mommy crying.”
I moved away.
Wiped my face.
“I am sad.”
“Why?”
The age-appropriate truth.
“I discovered something bad about Uncle Otávio.”
“Bad man.”
“Yes.”
Cecília hugged my leg.
“Daddy takes care.”
I looked at Dante.
“He does.”
The words emerged.
He crouched with difficulty.
“We take care of each other.”
He corrected it.
Did not assume the role alone.
We returned to my house.
Not his.
I needed my own space.
Dante came.
He sat while I prepared dinner.
The children talked.
Life.
After baths, stories.
Dante read.
When they slept, I remained in the kitchen.
He approached.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“No.”
“Silence?”
I nodded.
He sat beside me.
Did not touch.
After several minutes, I placed my hand over his.
Dante turned his palm.
Our fingers intertwined.
“My father may have financed the structure that killed yours,” he said.
“We don’t know.”
“But he created it.”
“Yes.”
“If you cannot look at me…”
“I can look at you.”
He raised his eyes.
“You are not him.”
The words came before he needed to ask.
“And your parents were not Otávio.”
I nodded.
“We are what we do now,” I said.
“Yes.”
“We don’t hide things.”
“No.”
“We don’t protect a name above the truth.”
“No.”
“We don’t decide for each other.”
“We try not to.”
“Better.”
Dante kissed my hand.
Not my mouth.
The gentleness undid me.
I cried.
He stayed.
Without fixing it.
Without promising it would pass.
He simply stayed.