Chapter 34
The red, urgent news ticker cut across the television screen in Henrique and Aline’s living room.
The shaky footage, recorded from a distance by reporters’ cameras, showed police cars surrounding the majestic headquarters of the Vasconcelos construction company.
Then came the moment that took my breath away: Júlia Muniz, the untouchable high-society woman, being escorted out of the building with her wrists handcuffed, her face pale and contorted into a mask of hatred and panic.
Immediately afterward, the news anchor announced Lurdes’s arrest, detailing the sordid scheme that had culminated in Dona Eleonora’s death at the foot of that marble staircase.
The journalist read the formal statement from the Public Prosecutor’s Office: the victim’s daughter-in-law, Maria Rita Vasconcelos, had been formally cleared as a suspect.
She had been the target of a criminal conspiracy.
I was standing, leaning against the back of the sofa, my eyes fixed on the screen.
The air, which for months had felt thin, suddenly flooded my lungs with the force of a hurricane.
The crushing weight of fear, the shadow of prison, the humiliation of having been thrown out into the rain in my blood-stained clothes and condemned by the man I loved…
all of it crumbled and fell to the floor of that room. My name was cleared. I was free.
Aline was by my side. She turned off the TV and hugged me with a strength that conveyed the triumph of all of us.
“It’s over, Maria. It’s over,” she whispered, crying along with me, while little Kelly, who was playing on the floor, looked at us, not understanding the commotion among the adults.
“I don’t have to hide anymore,” I murmured, feeling the adrenaline surge through my body in electric waves. “I can go out on the street. I can…”
The words died on my lips.
A sharp, relentless pain shot through my lower abdomen, radiating to the base of my spine with the force of a whip. The shock made me let out a muffled scream and double over. I grabbed Aline’s arm hard enough to leave marks.
“Maria? What’s wrong?” Aline’s smile vanished instantly, panic taking over her face.
Before I could answer, I felt a warm liquid running down my legs, soaking through the fabric of my pants and saturating the living room rug. The shock of the emotional outburst, the sudden onset of terror, and the surge of adrenaline had been too much for my exhausted body.
My water had broken.
“Oh my God…” I gasped, my eyes wide with terror. My breath caught in my throat. There were still a few weeks to go. It was way too soon. “Aline… the baby…”
“Henrique!” Aline screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the house. “Henrique, the car! Now!”
Chaos ensued. What should have been a moment of celebration and liberation became a race against time.
Henrique ran downstairs, assessed the situation in a split second, and asked no questions.
He took me by the arms, shifted my weight onto his shoulders, and guided me toward the garage as quickly as my pain allowed.
The drive to the maternity ward was a blur of S?o Paulo’s city lights, the shrill sound of Henrique’s car horn, and contractions that felt like they were tearing my insides apart. In the back seat, I writhed, breaking out in a cold sweat.
The terror that my little girl wasn’t ready, that all that suffering had affected her tiny heart, was driving me mad. I prayed aloud, begging God to charge me any price, as long as He saved my daughter’s life.
When we arrived at the hospital’s emergency room, a team of nurses was already waiting for us with a stretcher. I was laid down under blinding white lights and wheeled through sterile hallways, while doctors gave rapid orders regarding fetal monitoring and premature dilation.
In the midst of that whirlwind, a devastating contraction took hold of my body. I closed my eyes, moaning in pain, and the image of the man who had given me that tape recorder and the acquittal documents flashed through my mind.
Eduardo hadn’t just proven my innocence.
He had torn his own social circle apart, ruined Júlia’s reputation, and destroyed the lies within his own home.
He had thrown his own soul to the lions to ensure that mine remained intact.
The arrogant man who had rejected me no longer existed; in his place stood a relentless shield who had fulfilled his promise to fix the hell he had created.
He fought for our lives.
I hadn’t completely forgiven him. The wounds from that rainy dawn still lingered. But in that moment of life and death, my heart cried out an undeniable truth: he was the father of my daughter and deserved to be there.
A nurse was preparing an IV line in my arm, while Henrique held my face, trying to get me to focus on my breathing.
“Henrique…” I called out, my voice a strained whisper caught between waves of pain. I grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer.
“I’m here, Maria. Everything’s going to be okay. The doctor’s on her way.”
“Call him…” I begged, tears of pain and longing mingling on my sweaty face.
Henrique froze for a second, his eyes wide, fully understanding the weight of my request.
“Call Eduardo,” I repeated, clutching the fabric of his shirt, feeling a new contraction build. “He needs to be here. Call him. Now!”