Chapter 30
The weeks passed, transforming the transition from fall to winter in S?o Paulo into a period of silent and steady healing. My belly, once just an invisible promise, now displayed a rounded shape that I couldn’t—and didn’t want to—hide.
I was sitting at a desk in Henrique’s law office.
Dark wooden bookshelves and stacks of case files dominated the room, while the comforting scent of old paper and brewed coffee hung in the air.
Once I realized that my physical, mental, and emotional strength was returning, I refused to spend the entire day at Aline’s house waiting for the outside world to decide my fate.
I asked Henrique to let me be useful. I wanted to repay them for the shelter and security they had given me, and I needed to occupy my mind with something other than the tragedy in Morumbi.
He put me in charge of organizing files, scanning old case files, and managing the office paperwork.
It might have seemed like monotonous work, but for me, every folder I labeled was a building block in the reconstruction of my own identity.
I was no longer the “uniformed ghost” who served drinks at a resort, nor the wife who lived in the shadow of a powerful businessman.
I was a woman taking back control of my own life.
The work gave me a sense of purpose again.
Empowerment came from the little things: having a routine, feeling capable, and knowing that I was carving out my own space.
It happened while I was filing a brown folder.
I felt a light, quick, rhythmic tremor, as if a tiny butterfly were flapping its wings against the wall of my womb. I held my breath for a heartbeat, my hands frozen over the papers. Then came the second movement. Stronger. More distinct. A kick…
I let out a shaky sigh, set the folder down on the desk, and pressed both hands to my belly.
“Hi, my love,” I whispered, my eyes instantly welling up, feeling warmth spread through my entire body.
She had kicked. My little girl was there, alive and strong, letting me know that our little universe was growing.
That tiny movement had the force of an earthquake in my soul.
The despair from that night when I was thrown out of the mansion during a storm shrank and vanished in the face of the life pulsing beneath my hands.
I smiled to myself, feeling, for the first time in months, truly invincible.
The living room door opened, and Henrique walked in carrying two mugs of coffee. He stopped short when he saw me with my hands on my stomach and my face streaked with silent tears. His professional demeanor softened immediately.
“Everything okay over here?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
“She kicked, Henrique,” I replied, laughing through my tears and looking up at him. “It was the first time.”
Henrique’s face lit up. He stepped closer, set the mugs on the table, and smiled broadly, sharing in my genuine joy.
We were silent for a brief moment, honoring the significance of that small victory. But I soon noticed that Henrique was carrying a manila envelope under his arm, and the expression of the “criminal defense attorney” returned to his features.
“You’ve brought news about the investigation, haven’t you?” I asked, wiping my face with the back of my hand and sitting up straight in my chair. My fear of Detective Carvalho was still there, but my daughter’s kick had sent a surge of courage through me.
Henrique pulled up a chair and sat down facing me, folding his hands on his knees.
“Eduardo kept the promise he made to you that night,” he began, his brow slightly furrowed in an analytical expression.
“As we expected, he pulled the entire legal team off the case. There’s no more pressure from the construction company on the Public Prosecutor’s Office. No petitions calling for your arrest.”
I sighed, feeling genuine relief, even though I’d already expected this after his visit.
“That was the least he could do, Henrique. But why are you worried?”
“His retreat was to be expected,” Henrique agreed, leaning forward.
“But what puzzles me is what he’s doing now.
Detective Carvalho called me this morning, fuming.
It seems Eduardo hasn’t just backed down—he’s actively hindering the police.
He’s creating bureaucratic obstacles to any further forensic examination of the house and withholding documents the chief of police is trying to obtain. ”
The room fell silent. I leaned back in my chair, my mind processing the gravity of those words.
That night, in the living room, Eduardo had looked me in the eye and promised that he wouldn’t use his lawyers against me and that he would fix the mess he’d created—and there was irrefutable proof that his words weren’t empty.
However, that same man, known for being arrogant and relentless, was going even further: he was dismantling the state’s investigation.
“He’s holding Detective Carvalho hostage,” I murmured, piecing things together with piercing clarity.
“Exactly.” Henrique snapped his fingers against the table.
“If he only wanted to protect you and keep his promise, all he had to do was pull back the lawyers, sit tight, and let the inquiry fizzle out until it was dismissed for lack of evidence. But he’s not doing that.
He’s sabotaging the police investigation itself. He’s buying time.”
I looked out the office window, remembering the man I’d been married to.
Eduardo was meticulous. He was an heir accustomed to controlling everything.
If he’d noticed the flaws in the evidence against me, if the pain of remorse had removed the blinders from his eyes, he wouldn’t let impunity reign in his empire.
Dona Eleonora had been murdered, and Eduardo would never let his own mother’s death go unpunished.
“He’s looking for the real killer,” I said, my certainty hardening every syllable that came out of my mouth.
“Eduardo doesn’t outsource battles he considers personal.
If he realized he was manipulated by someone from within his own household to frame me and cause this tragedy, he won’t rely on the slow pace of the police investigation.
He’ll uncover the truth using his own resources. ”
Henrique nodded slowly, weighing my assessment.
“Do you think he’s already found out anything?”
“If he hasn’t, he’s about to.” I clenched my hands tightly on the arms of the chair. “Eduardo is going to comb through the footage, the staff, and every inch of that marble. Whoever set up this nightmarish scene to pin her blood on me… has no idea of the hell they’re about to face.”
That realization didn’t work like magic to heal my heart. The damage Eduardo had caused me by doubting me was still deep and painful. However, knowing that the Vasconcelos empire’s claws had been withdrawn and redirected toward the true culprit brought overwhelming relief.
I was no longer the prey. The threat of imprisonment had evaporated.
I caressed my belly once more, feeling more resolute and prepared than ever. I would let the heir to S?o Paulo wage his dark war in the mansion. My focus was on my work at the office and the little girl growing strong and safe inside me, miles and miles away from that family’s deadly lies.