Arthur closed his eyes for a second. Roberto. Always Roberto. And beneath the anger, an old grief—the one he’d carried for five years since leukemia took his four-year-old daughter, Clarinha. Since then, Arthur existed, but didn’t live.
“Call him. Now.”
Roberto arrived with a fake smile, messy hair, smelling of whiskey. He dropped into a chair like the world owed him something.
“What’s this surprise meeting? You could’ve warned me, brother.”
Arthur looked at him like a stain.
“Sit up straight. And tell me where the two million went.”
Roberto shrugged.
“No idea. System error. Someone hacked my password. It happens.”
Arthur stood slowly, hands on the table.
“Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“Relax. It’s just money. We have plenty. Why the drama?”
Arthur was about to answer when he heard a faint sound—a whimper. He paused.
“Did you hear that?”
Before anyone could respond, the service door opened quietly…
and something small entered the world of powerful men.
Bia.
