Chapter 4 - The Illusions of Grandeur
Rodrigo let out a low, mocking laugh, trying to mask the sudden, inexplicable flicker of unease that washed over his features.
"What ridiculous farce is this? What lawyer? What father?"
Beatriz slowly lowered the phone without ending the call. She stared at him with red, swollen eyes that were now burning with an intense, unshakeable determination.
"My father's lawyer. The man who holds all the documents your family thought they had buried."
Eleanor’s face instantly hardened. The name Almeida seemed to pierce through the luxurious room like an ancient, forgotten threat—something she recognized and deeply feared, even as she desperately tried to feign contempt.
"Almeida?"
Eleanor spat the name out as if it were poison.
"You are delusional, girl. Do you think playing make-believe will save you from the fact that you are nothing? You came to us with nothing but the clothes on your back!"
Beatriz didn't flinch. She simply tapped the screen of her phone, switching the call to speakerphone. The silence in the room grew heavy, oppressive, like the thick air before a violent thunderstorm.
May you like
"They really believe that, Dr. Almeida,"
Beatriz said quietly, her eyes locked on her husband's increasingly pale face.
