The smell of alcohol and antiseptic filled the corridors of Central Hospital of Silveridge.
The white lights remained on, indifferent to the chaos of that Christmas Eve morning.
The steady sound of a heart monitor echoed from the other side of the pediatric ICU door.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
It was the only sign that Helena was still fighting to stay alive.
Outside, Joaquim Figueiredo paced back and forth, unable to stop.
In a matter of hours, he had lost his son.
His daughter-in-law.
Two grandchildren.
Now he waited to find out whether he would lose his last granddaughter too.
Amélia sat in a plastic chair, clutching a rosary between her trembling fingers.
Her lips moved in prayer, but no words could ease the weight of that night.
A television mounted on the wall broadcast a special news bulletin.
“Businessman Silas Figueiredo and his family die in a serious accident on Christmas Eve.”
Joaquim looked away.
It didn't feel real.
Silas shouldn't have been dead.
That morning, the two of them had talked about Christmas dinner.
Now...
Only silence remained.
That was when something caught his attention.
Two men in dark coats stood near the reception desk.
They weren't talking.
They weren't crying.
They showed no concern.
They discreetly watched every medical professional leaving the pediatric wing.
They were waiting.
As if they were waiting for confirmation.
Joaquim frowned.
A few seconds later, one of them walked toward him.
“Mr. Joaquim Figueiredo?”
The man's voice was polite.
Controlled.
Emotionless.
“Yes.”
The man dipped his head slightly.
“My condolences.”
He paused briefly before continuing.
“We represent the insurance company responsible for your company. We only need to confirm one piece of information.”
Joaquim remained silent.
“Little Helena...”
He consulted a notepad.
“Did she die too?”
At that moment, something inside Joaquim changed.
It wasn't a question asked out of compassion.
It was a confirmation.
There was no sadness in the man's eyes.
Only interest.
That was when he remembered Silas's last call.
“Dad... there's a man named Julian Varga. I can't prove anything yet... but I don't trust him.”
At the time, Joaquim had thought it was just another businessman's concern.
Now...
Those words returned with a different weight.
He took a deep breath.
Lowered his head.
And let a few tears fall.
“Yes...”
His voice broke deliberately.
“My granddaughter died too.”
The two men exchanged an almost imperceptible glance.
The first man merely nodded.
“We're very sorry.”
They turned around.
And walked away.
Joaquim waited until he saw them disappear down the corridor.
Only then did he hurry into the director's office.
—Joaquim?
The hospital director immediately stood when he saw him.
The two men had been friends for decades.
They didn't need introductions.
Joaquim closed the door.
His hands were trembling.
For the first time that night, he broke down.
“They came to confirm whether my granddaughter was dead.”
The doctor frowned.
“Who?”
“They weren't from the insurance company.
I'm sure of it.”
Silence.
“Silas called me yesterday...”
He said he suspected a man.
He said he was investigating something.
I didn't think much of it.
The doctor remained motionless.
Joaquim took a deep breath.
Then he looked straight at him.
“Helena needs to die.”
The doctor widened his eyes.
“What?”
“On paper.
Because if they discover that she survived...
They'll come back.
And this time, they'll finish what they started.”
The director remained silent for several seconds.
He knew exactly how heavy that decision was.
“Are you sure?”
Joaquim closed his eyes.
The tears returned.
“No.
But I'm sure of one thing...
If I make a mistake...
I'll still have a living granddaughter to ask me for forgiveness.
If I do nothing...
I won't even have that left.”
The doctor slowly approached him.
He placed a hand on his old friend's shoulder.
Then he walked over to his desk.
Picked up a form.
That Christmas Eve...
Helena Figueiredo officially died.
Fourteen years later...
Lumina City.
The city glittered beyond the enormous glass windows of the top floor of Vance Technologies.
Magazines scattered across a table featured the same woman on their covers.
“The youngest CEO in the tech industry.”
“Liana Vance conquers the international market.”
“The company threatening the Mendes & Co. empire.”
Awards filled an entire shelf.
Patents.
Projects.
Honors.
Everything earned before she turned twenty.
But none of it made her proud.
It was only part of the plan.
A woman stood before the window, silently watching the city.
Her dark hair fell perfectly over her shoulders.
Her posture radiated authority.
Coldness.
Control.
To the world...
She was Liana Vance.
Helena Figueiredo existed only on an empty gravestone.
She slowly raised a glass of water to her lips.
In the glass's reflection, she saw her phoenix tattoo emerging faintly across her back.
She took a deep breath.
Closed her eyes.
For a moment...
The smell of smoke returned.
Twisted metal.
Snow.
And that perfume.
Always the same perfume.
She opened her eyes immediately.
She could still smell it.
As if she had never left that road.
The intercom interrupted her thoughts.
“Ms. Vance?”
“Yes?”
“The Mendes & Co. report just arrived.”
She remained silent.
“They've lost another international contract to us.”
A small smile appeared on her lips.
“Their representative is here.”
Liana slowly turned her chair.
“Who?”
“Henrique Mendes.”
The name echoed through the room.
For several seconds, she simply stared at the city.
Then she replied:
“Leave him waiting.”
“For how long?”
She glanced at the clock.
“Two hours.”
Let him learn...
That the Mendes family no longer gets priority in anyone's life.
When the call ended, Liana walked over to a small safe hidden behind a painting.
She took out an old photograph.
The edges were burned.
In the picture, four children smiled at the camera.
Gabriel.
Henrique.
Mariana.
And a girl in a red dress.
Helena.
She gently ran her thumb over Henrique's face.
For many years, she had believed he was part of the same lie that destroyed her family.
The photograph went back into the safe.
Liana closed the steel door.
She looked at the city again.
And, for the first time that morning, she smiled.
The war had begun.