Chapter Two – The Arrival

(Figueiredo Mansion – 12:37 a.m.)

Angel

The sound of my heels on the marble entrance echoed like gunshots in the silence of the mansion, while Lucas closed the door behind us. But he didn’t move forward. He just stood there, like a soldier waiting for orders, while I swallowed down a thick mix of alcohol and regret.

“In the library,” he murmured, his dark eyes fixed on the hallway. “Both of them.”

Shit.

My legs trembled. Both meant my dad and my grandmother. Together. And if they were in the library—the most solemn room in the house—it wasn’t a conversation. It was a trial.

I walked slowly, feeling Lucas’s gaze burn into my back. Every step was torture. When I reached the slightly open oak door, I almost turned and ran. But then I heard my grandmother’s voice, firm and sharp as a blade:

“Come in.”

The library was lit only by the fireplace and a desk lamp. Leonardo Figueiredo—the man who, until just a few days ago, believed he was my father—was sitting in a leather armchair, shoulders hunched, hands clasped in his lap. He didn’t look up when I walked in.

My grandmother, Dona Iolanda Figueiredo, was standing tall, back straight, her gray silk dress still flawless despite the hour. Her phone was resting on the desk, screen still lit.

It was a video. My video.

“Having the time of your life, aren’t you, Angelina?” she began, her voice sweet as poison.

She knew how much I hated being called by my birth name.

“While your father spends the night worried sick, you’re out there playing the part of a call girl on top of tables.”

My whole body burned with rage.

“I didn’t—”

“Silence!” Her shout sliced through the air. I had never seen my grandmother lose her composure. Until now.

“You think you can destroy this family’s name and walk away unpunished?”

My father finally lifted his face. And what I saw there split me in two: it wasn’t anger. It was a disappointment.

“Angel…” His voice was hoarse, and I realized he was holding back tears. “What did I do for you to humiliate me like this?”

Something inside me collapsed.

“Dad, no… it wasn’t because of you…” My voice cracked.

How could I explain that I was trying to destroy the part of me that wasn’t his?

That’s when Lucas, who had stayed by the door, stepped forward.

“She was drunk, sir. She didn’t know what she was doing.”

My grandmother turned to him, her eyes narrow.

“And you, Lucas? Did you know what you were doing when you let her leave the house like that?”

He didn’t lower his eyes.

“I’m not her bodyguard.”

“No, you’re not.” She agreed, smiling in a way that gave me chills. “But you’re the right hand of this family. You’re being groomed to take Leonardo’s place. And I expect more from you.”

Lucas clenched his jaw but said nothing.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Until my father stood up slowly, as if every movement hurt. He walked over to me, stopped a few inches away, and then, to my shock, placed his hands on my face.

“I love you, daughter,” he said. Just like that. “But you’re killing me.”

And then, without another word, he left the library, leaving behind the scent of his favorite whiskey and the weight of a pain I never meant to cause.

My grandmother picked up her phone and, as she passed me, she paused just long enough to whisper:

“Tomorrow. Seven a.m. My office. If you’re late, I’ll cut your card, your account access, and your last name.”

When the door shut behind her, I finally broke.

But before my legs gave out, Lucas was there—his strong arm wrapped around my waist, holding me upright.

“Why did you do this?” I screamed, pounding his chest, my tears mixing with mascara. “Why did you bring me here?”

He pulled me closer, his mouth near my ear, and whispered the one thing that could destroy me completely:

“Because you know you deserve more than being just another drunk girl on top of a table.”

And then he let go and walked away, leaving me alone in the library, with nothing but the crackle of the fire and the echo of his words burning on my skin.

Angel’s Room – 7:45 a.m.

The morning light pierced through the heavy curtains of my room like a knife. My head throbbed, my mouth tasted bitter, and my stomach was in full revolt. But the worst part? The vivid memory of the night before. The disappointment in my father’s eyes. My grandmother’s icy stare. And Lucas’s strong hands held me up when I almost collapsed.

Shit.

I swallowed hard and forced myself out of bed, ignoring the wave of nausea. I didn’t have a choice. Iolanda Figueiredo didn’t wait. She demanded. And if I wanted to keep my last name, my credit card, and the shred of dignity I had left, I needed to get my act together in under fifteen minutes.

I put on a flawless black pantsuit (the only thing that matched my mood), applied red lipstick (to hide how pale I looked), and tied my hair into a tight bun (to pretend I was in control).

I was finishing the last details when three firm knocks echoed on my door.

"Angel, open up. We don’t have time."

His voice.

My heart gave a stupid little jump. Why? Why did that man affect me so much, even when I wanted to hate him?

"Go ahead. I don’t need a babysitter," I replied, desperately dabbing concealer on the dark circles under my eyes, not willing to give in.

"Orders from Dona Iolanda. ‘Escort my granddaughter to the building and make sure she walks in with dignity.’ Her words, not mine."

I yanked the door open.

Gray suit, military posture, and that gaze that looked right through all my lies. The kind of man who should be illegal on a Monday morning. His jaw was slightly clenched — a clear sign he was already losing patience.

"Make sure I walk in with dignity? Are you kidding me?"

"Just following orders. Let’s go."

I rolled my eyes, grabbed my purse, and brushed past him, nudging his shoulder on purpose. Petty? Absolutely. But it was all I had in me.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" I muttered. "Finally an excuse to control me."

"If I wanted to control you, Angel, I’d have done it in other ways."

His low voice hit me like a jolt. What did he mean by that?

Before I could ask, he was already walking past me down the hall.

"Let’s go. I don’t want to be late."