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The wall clock read almost midnight, but sleep seemed to have forgotten me. Sitting in the cream leather armchair, facing the huge glass window of the living room, I watched the lights of Sao Paulo flashing like urban stars. The city's glow was reflected in my eyes, but inside everything was silent — a silence laden with memories that time has never managed to erase.

The apartment around me was sophisticated, with modern designer furniture, straight lines, and neutral tones. A space that reflected exactly who I became: a woman who conquered everything with effort, without shortcuts, without help. Just determination, cold blood, and an unbreakable promise.

I was adopted at five years old. I don't remember my biological mother's face. In fact, I've never even seen a photo of my parents. All I know is what Matilde Moreira told me when she took me from the shelter: they were murdered by the mafia.

Matilde... she was more than an adoptive mother. She was the first person who made me believe that the world could be less cruel. I remember her welcoming smile, the firmness in her eyes when she said that I didn't need to be afraid anymore. She gave me everything — love, protection, education, hope. For ten years, she was my home.

But fate, that ruthless rogue, took Matilde from me when I was fifteen. The illness came suddenly and gave no respite. I watched, powerless, as she withered away. And then, in the blink of an eye, I found myself alone again.

Despite leaving me a generous inheritance, justice was not as generous as she was. Being a minor, I was returned to the shelter. Three years. Three years of cold walls, hard stares, and broken promises. It was there that I learned to silence my pain, to hide my anger, to trust no one.

But I'm not the type to give up.

As soon as I turned eighteen, I put my plan into action. I took possession of the inheritance, returned to the apartment that was once my home with Matilde, and enrolled in law school. Studying became my refuge, my armor. Every lonely dawn, every tear I swallowed, every sleepless night... everything became fuel for the woman I became.

And it worked.

Today, I am a respected lawyer, with a solid career and a reputation built on effort, intelligence, and coldness. I have no family, no roots — but I have a name. And a promise.

I promised myself that I would find out who killed my parents. That I would find each of those responsible... and that I wouldn't rest until I got justice. Or revenge. Sometimes, the two things get mixed up.

And while the city lights continue to blink outside, I know that this story is still far from over.

My heart has always been like stone.

Hard, cold, unbreakable. After everything I've been through, I've learned that feelings weaken, that loving can be a trap, and that dreaming only leads to disappointment. I became strong out of necessity, not by choice. I built walls around myself and learned to live alone, without expecting anything from anyone.

But then... he appeared.

Hugo Albuquerque.

I never planned to fall in love. In fact, loving was a verb that I had crossed out of my vocabulary. But the moments next to Hugo were different. Less dark. He didn't try to invade my space — he just sat next to me as if saying, without words, that he could wait as long as it took.

We met at a law conference in Brasilia. I was lecturing on International Criminal Law and, as usual, I was direct, firm, and objective. When I came down from the stage, many came to greet me with that formal and forced air. But Hugo... he was different.

He caught up with me in the hallway, with a smile on his face and his brown eyes shining with a certain challenge.

"Dr. Vasconcellos?" he called to me.

I looked at him, raising an eyebrow. — Yes?

"Congratulations on the lecture. It was... sharp as a blade."

"That was the intention" I replied, dryly, as always.

He laughed. A light, spontaneous laugh. — I imagine you don't like flattery very much, so I'll avoid the obvious compliments.

"I appreciate it." I was already preparing to leave.

"But can I ask you a question?"

I sighed. — Depends on the question.

"Do you always speak in that tone or are you just trying to keep people away?"

I was silent for a second. No one spoke to me like that. No one dared.

"What if I say it's a tactic?" I retorted.

"Then I'll say it didn't work on me."

Something about that man bothered me... maybe because he wasn't intimidated. Maybe because he saw me beyond the armor.

In the following days, we met at more than one event, almost as if chance was insisting. And, against all my rules, I started to allow it. To allow smiles, longer conversations, a cup of coffee shared between one subject and another. He was a lawyer too, but with a surprising sense of humor and a lightness that contrasted with my dark world.

I don't know exactly when I stopped seeing him as a nuisance and started to wait for him. But it happened.

Hugo made me laugh, something I didn't even remember how to do. With him, my world was less heavy. And as much as I resisted, there was something about that man that made me want... more.

Then, one day, as we were walking through a garden next to the hotel of the conference, he stopped and looked at me in a way that made my stomach contract.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said, as if he were treading on dangerous ground.

"Another one?" I joked, surprising even myself.

"Why do you always seem ready to run away?"

The question hit me like an arrow. I took a deep breath.

"Because running away has always been safer than staying."

"And if I promise I won't hurt you?"

I looked at him. The wind gently stirred his hair, and the sky was reflected in his eyes as if the whole universe was trying to convince me.

"Promises scare me more than threats, Hugo" I replied.

He smiled, calmly. — Then I won't promise. I'll just ask you... let me stay.

At that moment, something inside me gave way.

For the first time in years, I decided to give my heart a chance. And I allowed myself to get to know Hugo Albuquerque.

What I didn't know yet... is that this decision would change everything.

I am Helena Vasconcellos, I am 26 years old

Sitting by the hotel pool, the sky above us was already slowly darkening. The lights around us began to turn on, reflecting in the water and drawing golden shapes that danced in the breeze. There was a comfortable silence between Hugo and me, as if neither of us wanted to break the magic of that moment.

I was surprised at how comfortable I felt beside him. Few people managed to reach me—even fewer managed to make me lower my guard. But Hugo... he was different. The kind of man who didn't invade, just approached slowly, leaving trails of tenderness and curiosity.

"I've talked so much about myself," I murmured, still looking at the water, "but you've told me so little about your life."

He smiled, resting his arms behind his body.

"Maybe I'm waiting for the right moment for you to discover that I'm much less interesting than I seem."

I turned my face to him, narrowing my eyes.

"I highly doubt that."

He stared at me for a few seconds before giving in.

"Alright. My full name is Hugo Xavier. I'm 30 years old. I graduated in Law, but I hardly work in the area. My father, Ivan Xavier, owns a company called X-Gold Corporation. We work with mining and exporting precious metals."

"Mining?" I repeated, surprised.

"Gold, silver, platinum... metals that are worth as much as they can destroy lives," he replied, with a slightly enigmatic tone in his voice. "I grew up surrounded by this universe. Offices, meetings with investors, contracts, absurd figures."

"And do you like it?"

He took a deep breath, looking at the sky.

"I like what it represents. I like being able to take care of my mother. To be able to provide comfort. But sometimes I feel like... I'm just fulfilling the destiny that was written by someone else."

His gaze met mine, and there was something there. Something deeper, darker... but he didn't say it. And I didn't ask.

"And you?" he continued, with a slight smile. "Have you ever thought about running away from your own story?"

"Every day," I replied without hesitation.

We were silent again, the kind of silence that says more than a thousand words.

Then he moved a little closer. Just enough for me to feel his breath.

"Helena..." he said, in a low, almost reverent tone. "You are different from anything I've ever known."

I felt my heart race, but my body remained still. This was dangerous. He was dangerous. Not in a cruel way—but in a way that could make me feel. And I was afraid of that.

"I'm not made for these things, Hugo," I whispered.

"What things?"

"To feel. To get attached. To trust..."

"I'm not asking you for all that," he said, gently. "Just a moment. A now."

And then he moved closer. His eyes were fixed on mine, as if asking for permission before even attempting any movement. I could back away. I could turn my face away and go back to my solitary fortress.

But I didn't turn away.

When our lips touched, it was as if a silent thunder crossed my body. There was no rush, no urgency. Just delicacy and presence. A kiss that didn't want to prove anything, just say: I'm here.

And I let him stay.

But, deep down, there was something he wasn't telling me yet. Something that shone in his eyes when he talked about his father, the company, the responsibility.

After the kiss, we were silent for a few minutes, just watching the sky and listening to the distant sound of the city. Neither of us wanted to break that moment, but we knew the night wasn't over yet.

"I'm going up," I said, getting up. "I need to change. Shall we meet in the restaurant?"

Hugo nodded with a smile. "I'll be there in thirty minutes. And I'm curious to see you out of the relentless lawyer suit."

"Be careful what you wish for," I joked, already turning my back, with my heart racing.

In the room, I let the hot water from the shower run over my skin, trying to calm down. The truth is that kiss moved me more than I would like to admit. Inside, a part of me screamed to keep my distance. But another... wanted to find out how far Hugo could go.

I chose a long black satin dress, with thin straps and a discreet neckline. The kind of clothes that revealed elegantly and suggested without vulgarity. I pinned my hair in a low bun, with some loose strands around my face. Light makeup, just to enhance my eyes and lips. When I looked in the mirror, I almost didn't recognize myself. There was softness in my reflection. A different glow.

And, for the first time in a long time, I liked what I saw.

As I went down to the restaurant, I spotted Hugo at the table, wearing a light suit and an unbuttoned shirt. He saw me first—and his eyes widened as if he had forgotten to breathe.

"Wow..." was all he managed to say as I approached.

"I hope that means 'you look beautiful'."

He laughed, getting up to pull out my chair.

"It means I should be wearing a bulletproof vest, because you just hit me hard."

I sat down, trying to hide the blush rising on my cheeks.

Dinner was light, tasty, full of laughter and silent looks that spoke more than words. At some point, he touched my hand on the table, and the gesture was so natural that I didn't even try to back away.

When dessert arrived, the restaurant was already emptier, the soft music filled the room, and the atmosphere was almost intimate.

"Helena..." he began, holding my hand firmly, but without pressure. "I know we're still getting to know each other. But... tonight, do you want to stay with me?"

My eyes locked onto his. There was desire, yes, but also affection and respect. And that's exactly why I took a deep breath before answering.

"Hugo..." I began, softly. "You are incredible. And tonight was perfect. But... I'm not the kind of woman who makes this kind of decision on impulse."

He nodded slowly, but didn't let go of my hand.

"I don't want something fleeting. And... as intense as everything is, we still know little about each other. This step, for me, is serious. And I'm not ready."

Hugo looked at me silently for a few seconds, and then smiled—a serene smile, without disappointment.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to say that. And for letting me be a part of your night, even if only until here."

My heart squeezed with his delicacy. I wasn't used to men like that. With patience, with calm. With men who knew how to wait.

"Do you still want to walk a little?" I asked, trying to ease the tension.

"With you? Always," he replied, getting up and offering his arm.

And that's how we ended the night: side by side, walking through the silent corridors of the hotel, with slow steps and restless hearts, as if we were dancing.

I am Hugo Xavier 29 years old

Sunday dawned lazy, with a light drizzle running down the windows of my apartment. I was sitting on the sofa, reading a legal article, trying to keep my mind occupied, when the cell phone vibrated on the coffee table. Hugo's name appeared on the screen, accompanied by that photo he had taken of himself, smiling in a way that irritated and enchanted me at the same time.

I answered.

"Good morning, Dr. Vasconcellos," he said, with that velvety voice that made me forget for a second who I was.

"Good morning, Hugo. Calling early, is everything okay?"

"Better than ever," he replied. "I wanted to ask you something... or rather, inform you."

I closed the book slowly, already suspecting the audacity.

"I'm listening."

"Tomorrow is my parents' wedding anniversary. They always have dinner at home, something more intimate, just the family. And I... I want you to come with me."

I was silent for a moment.

"Meet your parents?" I repeated, surprised.

"That's right. I'll pick you up at seven in the evening. We'll go together."

"Hugo..." I exhaled with a certain weight. "Don't you think this is... rushed?"

"Maybe. But life is like that, isn't it? Full of risks." He paused for a second and added, in a more serious tone: "I like you, Helena. I'm not playing games. I want them to meet the woman who made me stop looking at the world as if everything were an obligation."

I closed my eyes, feeling a slight tightness in my chest. No one ever spoke to me like that. Without beating around the bush. Without fear of surrendering.

"I just... don't know if I'm ready for that," I confessed, lowering my voice.

"I'm not asking you for an eternal commitment, nor that you say you love me. I just want to share a piece of my life with you. And if, at some point, it becomes uncomfortable, we'll make up an excuse and leave."

I let out a short laugh, surprised by his lightness.

"Do you always manage to break my defenses like that?"

"Not yet. But I'm trying hard."

I sighed, looking out the window.

"All right. I'll go."

"Great. Tomorrow at seven, then. Oh, and Helena..."

"Hm?"

"You don't have to worry about impressing anyone. But, if you want to leave my mother speechless, wear that black dress from the hotel."

"Hugo!"

He laughed loudly and hung up before I could answer.

I stood there, looking at the phone for a few seconds.

Meet the parents.

It wasn't something small. It wasn't something casual. It was a... dangerous step.

But maybe it was time to take some risks.

The clock struck seven when Hugo parked in front of my building. I had been feeling restless since morning, as if a premonition whispered that something was not right. Still, I took a deep breath, put on an elegant wine-colored dress, tied my hair in a discreet bun, and went with him.

During the journey, Hugo tried to lighten the atmosphere with jokes and affectionate looks. He seemed happy to take me to meet his family. And, for a moment, I wanted to believe that it was real. That someone like me could, finally, be part of something lighter, more human.

But the illusion was short-lived.

The Xavier's house was immense, cold, sophisticated to a fault. The kind of home where emotions seem to shrink before works of art and white marble. As soon as we entered, we were greeted by a slender woman, with an erect posture and eyes as sharp as razors.

Margareth Xavier.

"So this is the Helena?" she said, looking me up and down as if I were an insect perched on her Persian rug. "I expected... more."

Hugo tried to intervene, but she raised her hand, interrupting him with a simple gesture.

"You can go get your father, Hugo. I want to talk to the young lady here... alone."

"Mom, please..."

"Now, Hugo."

He hesitated, gave me an afflicted look, but obeyed.

I stood there, in the center of the room, feeling her eyes burning my skin.

"Listen carefully, Helena Vasconcellos," she began, with a poisonous tone. "I don't know where you came from, nor do I care. Some little lawyer who grew up in a shelter and thinks she can mix with people of our level?"

I was silent, controlling every muscle in my face.

"You don't belong in this world, my dear. Hugo may be having fun with you, but it's just a whim. A pastime. He will marry Cibele Albuquerque, as was already arranged. Her family has history, name, money. Something you don't have and never will."

"I didn't come here to compete with anyone," I replied, firmly, but without raising my voice. "Hugo invited me."

"Of course, he invited you. Men get carried away by... curves and a poor little face. But the reality is that Cibele returns from Europe in a month, and you will be discarded like the trash you are."

That hurt. And she noticed.

"Do you really think he's going to give up a powerful heiress for someone who barely knows how to smile? You're an embarrassment. The kind of woman that no man introduces to society."

Ivan Xavier appeared soon after, with the same superior look as his wife. He didn't need to say much - a simple "You've had enough fun, Hugo" made it clear which side he was on.

Hugo tried to argue. He babbled weak words, without firmness. I saw the doubt in his eyes, the discomfort. But I also saw the fear. The weight of obedience. He wasn't going to oppose his parents. Not for me.

I got up, took my bag calmly, and looked into Margareth's eyes.

"You're right about one thing. I really don't belong in this world. And thank you for reminding me of that so clearly."

"At least you're smart enough to understand your place," she spat.

"And you..." I looked at Hugo, disappointed. "You are exactly what I promised to avoid."

Hugo stood up, trying to accompany me.

"Helena, wait... I'll take you home."

"No. I'll manage on my own," I replied firmly.

At the door, I called a taxi. While I waited, he stood there like a frightened boy, not knowing what to do.

"You know what's worse, Hugo?" I said, without facing him. "It's that for a second... I thought you were different."

I got into the car and slammed the door shut.

As the taxi moved away from that mansion full of hypocrisy, I felt my throat tighten. Once again, life slapped me in the face. Once again, when I allowed myself to believe... everything collapsed.

The truth is that my heart was still made of stone. But this time... it had cracked.