A sala de reuniões do Clã da Noite ficava enterrada sob o edifício Aurora. Um bunker com paredes de concreto aparente que cheirava a cigarro velho e segredos enterrados.A luz indireta projetava sombras nos rostos dos doze homens sentados ao redor da enorme mesa de carvalho. Uma peça que Roman herdara do antigo chefe e conservara como símbolo de continuidade. Cada homem representava um setor, um território, uma parte do vasto império do clã.Roman Kael estava sentado na cabeceira da mesa. Seus dedos deslizavam sobre a superfície polida, seus olhos examinando os rostos ao redor com a calma de um predador que já havia escolhido sua presa.Seus dedos não tremiam. Não havia suor em sua testa. Cada músculo do seu corpo estava relaxado, como se ele estivesse prestes a assistir a uma apresentação, não a liderar um golpe.Alguns homens o encararam com respeito. Outros, com uma suspeita mal disfarçada. E um — Domício, o mais velho à mesa — com um desprezo mal disfarçado.A cicatriz na testa do

The São Paulo night was thick and heavy. A humid blanket that clung to the skin like a second layer.Heat crept through the open windows of the small apartment. Carrying the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional bark of a neighbor's dog.Lara Monteiro sat on the edge of Mia's bed. Her fingers slowly threading through her daughter's light brown hair.The strands were soft, fine as spider silk. They slipped through her fingers like water.Mia's breathing was soft and steady against the pillow. Each small exhale a tiny sigh of peace.The nightlight cast a warm golden glow across the girl's face. Illuminating the curve of her cheek, the flutter of her eyelashes.Lara watched her daughter sleep and felt the familiar ache in her chest. The weight of all the secrets she carried. All the lies she'd told to protect this small, innocent creature.Mia was three and a half. Her light eyes were the mirror image of Roman's. The same shade of clear, piercing blue that had once made Lara's hea

A noite caiu sobre São Paulo como um véu de seda escura. As luzes da cidade acenderam-se uma a uma, uma constelação de promessas espalhadas pelo vale.Lara Monteiro saiu do táxi em frente ao edifício Aurora. O vento frio da primavera tocou sua pele nua, arrepiando-lhe os braços. Ela apertou o casaco leve contra o corpo e respirou fundo.O ar cheirava a escapamento e chuva. Uma tempestade estava a caminho.Ela usava um vestido azul-marinho. O mesmo que comprara no shopping semanas atrás. Aquele que Vera havia recomendado. Aquele que era dela.Não o vermelho que Rafael a obrigara a usar. Não a fantasia de esposa troféu.Este vestido era simples, modesto, discreto. O decote era alto, a bainha terminava um pouco acima dos joelhos. Mas o tecido abraçava suas curvas de um jeito que ela sabia que Roman notaria.Ela havia escolhido aquilo deliberadamente. Não para impressioná-lo. Para se lembrar de quem ela era.O segurança do saguão a reconheceu e a acompanhou até o elevador privativo sem fa

The morning sun streamed through Roman Kael's office windows like a golden blade. Cutting through the air heavy with whiskey and coffee.He sat behind the mahogany desk. His eyes fixed on the computer screen. His fingers drumming against the polished surface.The meeting with Domício had been a success. Vera was monitoring Rafael. And Lara...Lara was in his mind like a song he couldn't stop hearing. A melody that played on repeat, no matter how hard he tried to silence it.He thought about the kiss. The way her lips had trembled against his. The way she'd pulled away, her eyes filled with fear and longing. The way she'd said his name like a question she was afraid to answer.The system blinked in his vision:Mission: 'Conquer Lara' — In progress.Status: SLOW PROGRESS.Recommended Action: Increase emotional connection.Roman ignored the notification. He already knew Lara wouldn't fall into his arms easily. She had pride. Fear. A daughter to protect.But he had patience. And time. And

The Monte Verde Construction headquarters stood in São Paulo's South Zone — a glass-and-steel building that rose like an accusing finger against the night sky. Lara Monteiro looked at the illuminated facade and felt her stomach tighten.The place was too imposing, too cold. The smell of money and ambition that emanated from the glass doors made her want to turn back to the taxi and run.But Rafael was beside her, his hand gripping her arm hard enough to leave marks."Smile." He whispered, his teeth clenched in a forced grin. "You're representing my company tonight."Lara forced her lips into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She wore a navy-blue dress — not the red Rafael had demanded, but the one she'd chosen. The fabric was simple, elegant, and covered her shoulders discreetly.Rafael had complained, of course. But she'd pretended not to hear."You look like a retired teacher." He'd muttered when he saw her. "But since you insist..."She didn't answer. She didn't have the energy t