Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW WHERE MY SISTER LIVED
My sister's name was Sofia Oliveira.
She was twenty-one, studying architecture at the University of São Paulo, and had spent most of her life believing I could solve almost any problem.
When our father died, I was nineteen and she was nine.
I learned how to balance grocery bills against school supplies, how to work double shifts, and how to smile when Sofia asked whether everything would be all right.
I always told her yes.
That morning, looking at the photograph on my phone, I couldn't say it even to myself.
Beatriz read the message.
Her expression changed immediately.
“Have you contacted your sister?”
“Not yet.”
“Call her. Then we'll make a police report.”
My fingers trembled as I dialed.
Sofia answered sleepily.
“Marina? It's four in the morning.”
“Where are you?”
“In my room. Why?”
“Is the door locked?”
A pause.
“Yeah. Marina, what's wrong?”
I closed my eyes.
“Someone sent me a photograph of you.”
She was suddenly awake.
“What?”
I explained enough for her to understand that the situation was serious, without frightening her unnecessarily.
“Don't leave alone until we've spoken to campus security,” I said.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you lying?”
I almost cried.
“Not about that.”
Sofia was silent.
Then she whispered, “Is this because of the mafia boss?”
“Yes.”
“Marina, please be careful.”
That sentence broke something inside me.
I'd spent twelve years telling her to be careful.
Now she was the one frightened for me.
By sunrise, Beatriz had arranged for the threatening message and photograph to be documented by the police.
Sofia contacted university security.
I gave a statement.
Then I returned to Dante's room.
He was sitting upright when I entered, looking at business reports on a tablet.
I stopped in the doorway.
“Your doctor told you to rest.”
He looked up.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Mr. Montenegro—”
“Dante.”
“You've been hospitalized with a potentially life-threatening condition.”
“And I've been threatened by people who think I'm too weak to notice.”
I stepped closer.
“Those aren't mutually exclusive problems.”
He studied me.
Then he put down the tablet.
“Something happened.”
It wasn't a question.
I showed him the message.
His expression changed so dramatically that I understood why men feared him.
“Who sent this?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is your sister?”
“Somewhere safe for now.”
He reached for his phone.
I stopped him.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure nobody gets near her.”
“I've already contacted the authorities.”
“I can arrange security.”
“Then discuss any additional arrangements with me before you make decisions involving my family.”
Dante stared.
Nobody spoke to him that way.
At least, nobody who expected to remain employed.
For a moment, his jaw tightened.
Then he set down the phone.
“Tell me what would help.”
The question surprised me.
I took a breath.
“My sister needs to keep going to school without feeling she's become somebody's hostage. I need to know whether the threat is connected to Vanessa. And I need access to my employment records before someone uses my name to destroy my career.”
Dante listened.
Then nodded.
“Beatriz will help you review the documents. My security team can offer support if Sofia wants it. And neither of you will be required to accept anything.”
I studied him.
“Thank you.”
He looked toward the window.
“Marina, whoever did this wants you frightened enough to change your story.”
“I know.”
“Don't.”
I gave a humorless laugh.
“Easy to say from a private hospital room.”
He looked at me.
“Nothing about this is easy.”
For once, the most feared man in São Paulo sounded like an ordinary person who had just learned how vulnerable he was.
At ten that morning, Dr. Azevedo entered with preliminary findings.
Dante had required continued glucose monitoring and treatment, but his condition was improving.
The physician explained that the clinical evaluation remained ongoing. The pen recovered from the mansion was a matter for forensic examination, and the team would not draw conclusions about prior episodes without corroborating evidence.
Then Lucas asked Dante a question.
“Mr. Montenegro, do you remember receiving any injections at home?”
Dante nodded.
“Several.”
“Who administered them?”
“Vanessa, occasionally.”
“Were they prescribed by a clinician whose name you know?”
“I thought so.”
“What did she tell you they were?”
Dante hesitated.
“Vitamins. Something for stress.”
Lucas made notes.
“How did you feel afterward?”
“Sometimes tired. Sometimes confused. There were mornings I couldn't remember conversations from the night before.”
I watched the physician's expression.
He remained careful.
Those symptoms had many potential explanations.
But with the events at dinner, the history deserved attention.
Lucas continued.
“Do you have any original packaging, prescriptions, or records of those treatments?”
Dante shook his head.
“Vanessa handled them.”
Then he looked at me.
And I saw him understand the terrifying implications of those three words.
That afternoon, Rafael visited the mansion to coordinate with investigators reviewing the medication and security records.
He discovered that access to the household medical cabinet had been disabled.
The electronic inventory was unavailable.
And the private office used by Vanessa had been emptied.
When he told Dante, the man's face went perfectly still.
“She cleared her office?”
“Yes.”
“Was she allowed to?”
“There was no order preventing her from collecting personal belongings at the time.”
Dante looked away.
He had trusted Vanessa with his house.
His private schedule.
His medication.
His passwords.
His wedding plans.
He'd given her access because he believed love meant letting someone close enough to see his weaknesses.
Now he wondered whether she'd used that access to manufacture them.
Rafael hesitated.
“There's something else.”
Dante looked up.
“What?”
“Your accountant contacted me.”
“Why?”
“He says Vanessa arranged a change to the family holding company's succession instructions last month.”
Dante frowned.
“I never approved a change.”
Rafael looked toward Beatriz.
Then said quietly, “The revised documents reportedly make Vanessa temporary administrator if you're declared medically incapable of managing your affairs.”
The room went silent.
Dante stared at the wall.
May you like
And for the first time, I understood that someone might not have been trying simply to kill him.
They might have been trying to make sure he survived long enough to surrender everything he owned.
Related Stories
