Chapter 1 - The Cellar
Rain hammered down over Jardim Europa when Dante Montenegro ordered his driver to stop in front of the mansion gates nearly two hours earlier than expected.
The businessman was supposed to be in a meeting on Faria Lima Avenue until after midnight.
Officially, Dante was the president of the Montenegro Group, an empire built on logistics, construction, and private security.
But in São Paulo, there was another name for men like him.
Mafia boss.
Two security men stepped out first.
Dante crossed the main entrance while still pulling his soaked jacket from his shoulders when he heard a loud crack from somewhere beneath the house.
BANG!
He stopped.
Another impact.
BANG!
Dante looked at Bruno Tavares, the head of mansion security.
“What was that?”
Bruno frowned.
“I don’t know, sir.”
The third strike came harder.
This time, Dante recognized the direction.
The underground wine cellar.
His hand immediately moved inside his jacket.
“With me.”
The men crossed the hallway, passed through the empty kitchen, and descended the stone staircase leading underground.
The closer they got, the clearer the sounds became.
Footsteps.
Heavy breathing.
Wood striking wood.
Dante threw open the cellar door so hard it slammed against the wall.
And froze.
In the center of the room, surrounded by rows of extremely expensive wine, lay a large black training mat that definitely had not been there the last time he had come downstairs.
Standing on it was Lívia.
His twelve-year-old daughter.
Barefoot.
Wearing gray sweatpants, a white T-shirt, and her hair tied back in a ponytail.
Her brown eyes remained fixed on an empty point ahead of her, as they always had since she had been born blind.
But in her hands...
Lívia was holding a training staff.
Dante saw a purple bruise on his daughter’s left forearm.
His blood boiled.
Then he saw Isabela Oliveira standing in front of her.
The maid who had been hired months earlier.
The quiet woman who served coffee, organized bedrooms, rarely asked questions, and moved through the entire mansion almost unnoticed.
Now Isabela did not look like a maid.
Her feet were planted apart.
Her shoulders aligned.
Her body slightly angled forward.
And she was holding another staff.
“Lívia.”
Isabela’s voice was firm.
“Listen to my hips.”
Dante did not understand.
Lívia, however, became completely still.
Isabela shifted her weight.
And attacked.
The staff came down violently toward the girl’s shoulder.
Dante drew his gun.
“STOP!”
Lívia moved before he finished shouting.
She turned her body to the right.
Raised her own staff.
BANG!
The two staffs collided with force.
The impact echoed through the wine cellar.
Lívia took one step back, recovered her balance, and pointed the staff directly at Isabela’s chest.
Dante stopped breathing.
His daughter could not see the woman in front of her.
And yet...
She had blocked the strike.
Isabela lowered her training weapon.
“Better.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Dante’s voice made Lívia flinch.
“Dad?”
Dante strode across the cellar.
“Bruno, take that thing out of her hands.”
Lívia pulled the staff back before the security chief could approach.
“No.”
Dante stopped.
He was not used to hearing that word from his daughter.
“Lívia.”
“I can put it away myself.”
She walked toward a small table.
Without touching the walls.
Without asking for help.
She counted four steps, turned slightly left, and placed the staff exactly onto its stand.
Dante looked at Isabela.
“How long has this been going on?”
Isabela did not look away.
“A few months.”
“Months?”
The word exploded through the cellar.
Dante pointed at his daughter’s arm.
“Look at that.”
Isabela looked.
“I saw it.”
“She’s hurt!”
“No.”
Isabela answered without raising her voice.
“I’m teaching her how not to get hurt.”
Dante stepped forward until only inches separated them.
“You think this is some kind of game?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly do you think you’re doing?”
Isabela glanced toward Lívia.
“I’m teaching Lívia.”
“She’s blind!”
The silence that followed was heavy.
Lívia turned her face toward her father’s voice.
“I know that.”
Dante closed his eyes for a second.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“But you were talking about me as if I wasn’t here.”
That hit him in a way he had not expected.
He dragged a hand over his face.
“Lívia, go upstairs.”
“No.”
Bruno discreetly looked away.
Dante’s jaw hardened.
“I said go upstairs.”
“And I said no.”
“Lívia Montenegro.”
“You want to know how long I’ve been training?”
Dante did not answer.
“Four months.”
She swallowed.
“Four months without falling whenever someone pushes me. Four months learning how to recognize footsteps. Four months discovering I can do things you never let me try.”
“I didn’t let you because I want to keep you safe.”
Lívia let out a short, bitter laugh.
“Safe?”
She spread her arms.
“In this house?”
Dante frowned.
“You have everything here.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
Lívia took a deep breath.
“Driver. Security. Teachers inside the house. Doctor inside the house. Fenced garden. Locked gates.”
Her voice began to tremble.
“You call that protection.”
Dante stood completely still.
“I call it being buried alive in a beautiful house.”
His expression changed.
“Lívia...”
“I’m twelve, Dad.”
A tear rolled down the girl’s cheek.
“I’m not a vase you need to put on a shelf so nobody breaks me.”
Dante looked at the bruise on her arm.
“You could get hurt.”
“I can get hurt walking down a hallway.”
She pointed toward Isabela.
“But at least now I’m learning what to do when someone tries to hurt me.”
Dante slowly turned toward the maid.
“You put these ideas in her head.”
“No.”
Isabela replied.
“She thought this way before I ever came here.”
“You don’t know my daughter.”
Isabela held his gaze.
“Maybe I know the part of her you never wanted to see.”
Dante stepped forward again.
Bruno tensed behind him.
Very few people in São Paulo spoke to Dante Montenegro like that.
Even fewer remained standing afterward.
“Pack your things.”
Isabela did not move.
“No.”
Dante almost smiled in disbelief.
“You didn’t understand.”
He spoke slowly.
“You’re fired.”
Isabela took a breath.
“No, Mr. Montenegro.”
The cellar went silent.
“I’m not.”
Dante’s eyes darkened.
“You want to find out what happens when someone defies me inside my own house?”
Isabela did not step back.
“I want to stop you from finding out what happens when someone reaches your daughter.”
Dante stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“The reason I’m training her.”
“There is no reason.”
“There is.”
“Lívia is a child.”
“Yes.”
“She has nothing to do with my business.”
Isabela tilted her head slightly.
“Doesn’t she?”
Dante stepped closer.
“Choose your next words very carefully.”
Isabela looked at Lívia.
Then back at him.
“Because your daughter isn’t just a little girl.”
She paused.
“She’s your heir.”
Dante’s face changed.
Bruno went still as well.
Lívia tightened her fingers.
“My daughter has nothing to do with my enemies.”
Isabela answered almost in a whisper.
“Your enemies don’t think that way.”
Dante felt his stomach tighten.
“Who spoke to you?”
“No one.”
“Who sent you into this house?”
Isabela remained silent.
Dante grabbed her wrist.
“Answer me.”
She showed no fear.
Instead, she raised her other hand to her neck.
From beneath her shirt, she pulled out a thin silver chain.
Dante released her wrist.
At the end of the chain hung a small oval pendant.
A circle crossed by three delicate lines.
The world seemed to stop.
Dante knew that symbol.
Seven years earlier, after Helena’s funeral, he had spent hours sitting in his wife’s bedroom, holding every object she had left behind.
Perfume.
Letters.
Photographs.
Jewelry.
And at the bottom of a wooden box...
There had been a drawing identical to that symbol.
Dante slowly raised his eyes.
“Where did you get that?”
Isabela closed her fingers around the pendant.
Her voice dropped.
May you like
“Your wife gave it to me.”
