Mateo frowned.
“Because it wasn’t mine.”
Something shifted inside Henrique. Years ago, he had been that child—hungry, honest, unnoticed.
He took Mateo to his office. Eduardo followed, pale and silent. Henrique asked about his life.
Mateo spoke of the Nova Esperança neighborhood, of living with his grandmother Rosa, his younger brother Tiago, and his aunt Carolina Ribeiro, who cleaned houses and was rarely home.
He helped after school to pay for medicine—his grandmother’s heart condition, his own inherited arrhythmia.
Henrique listened, shaken. The similarities to his own past were undeniable.
“You helped more than this company,” Henrique said at last. “You reminded me who I was.”
He gave Mateo his card.
“I’d like to meet your family. Dinner, if they agree.”
That night, in their modest home, Rosa froze when she saw the name. When Carolina read it, the color drained from her face.
They accepted the invitation.
At dinner, pleasantries barely covered the tension. When the children wandered off, Henrique spoke.
“Your names… I knew a family like yours thirty years ago.”
Carolina’s voice trembled.
“You disappeared. One day you were there… then gone.”
Rosa’s words were sharper.
See more on the next page
Advertisement
