The heat in that city was suffocating. The air conditioner in the room only blew warm air. That day, according to the receptionist, there were no other rooms available.

After days of searching, she finally found a house to rent in Rio de Janeiro's West Zone. The rent was much cheaper than in the South Zone.

The house wasn't very big, but it seemed comfortable enough. It had only one bedroom, an open-plan kitchen, and a bathroom. Outside, there was a small porch with brown resin tiles and a narrow pebble path leading to the little wooden gate in the middle of the low wall.

That same week, Vivian received the furniture she had bought online. Nothing fancy, but enough to start rebuilding her life.

Over the months, Viviane took morning walks and sometimes went out to socialize with the neighbors. Soon, everyone knew her as the teacher from São Paulo. That helped her find some work as a private tutor.

To explain her pregnancy without a father in the picture, she told everyone her husband had died in an accident and that she had moved to Rio de Janeiro in the hope of starting over.

Everything was going as expected. During one appointment, Viviane got the news she was expecting a girl. The doctor told her that in three weeks, her daughter would be born.

That afternoon, she sat in her rocking chair reading a novel. The breeze cooled her skin. She smiled as she finished another chapter and went inside to answer the phone. It was the third time that strange number had called.

"Hello?"

"Where are you, sweetheart?"

Vivian dropped the phone as soon as she recognized the voice. She had no idea how Pietro had gotten her number. With effort, she bent down to pick up the cracked phone.

"What do you want?" she tried to sound firm.

"I just want to talk..."

"Your mistress isn't giving you enough attention?" Her voice dripped with irony.

"Don't be stupid!" he shouted.

"I want a divorce!"

"I'll find you, sweetheart."

She hung up and tried to steady her breathing. Cold sweat broke across her skin, her heart racing. She still had nightmares about the night Pietro had raped her.

"The monster won't find us," she whispered, looking at her belly. "Tomorrow, Mommy's going to the police station, and everything will be fine." She stroked her round stomach.

________________________________

Even after filing a police report, she still didn't feel safe. Pietro was a clever lawyer and would know how to slip away from any situation.

Convincing herself that he would never find out where she was, Viviane kept to her routine. She walked in the mornings and gave lessons in the afternoons.

That weekend, she decided to go shopping. Viviane wanted the fridge stocked before the first weeks of postpartum recovery.

On the way, she caught sight of a black car in her rearview mirror.

Shaking her head, she brushed off those dark thoughts and parked in the supermarket lot.

Inside, she shopped peacefully. She grabbed more diapers, wipes, alcohol, and cotton. Soon she'd have her baby in her arms, ready to enjoy the gift of motherhood.

With the bagger's help, Vivian returned to her car. She disarmed the alarm and opened the trunk to organize the groceries.

"I think I forgot my phone at the checkout."

"I'll get it for you, ma'am!"

The boy ran through the automatic doors. Distracted, Viviane didn't see the hooded figure reaching out.

"Don't try anything stupid." He slapped her ear, leaving her dizzy. "Hand over the car keys, bitch!"

The keys and wallet slipped from her hand.

"Please, calm down," she begged, exasperated.

"Give me the damn stuff!" the thief demanded.

Vivian bent down to grab her belongings when she heard the beggar's desperate scream. She tried to run, but the gunshot was the last thing she heard before plunging into darkness, her belly hitting the hard pavement of the parking lot.

Through thick clouds, she tried to reach her daughter's crib. No matter how fast she ran, she couldn't get there.

In the distance, she saw her mother cradling the baby and smiling as she wrapped her in her arms. Then, at some point, Otávia handed the infant to a tall man with a shadowed face.

"Don't give her to Pietro, Mom!" She shouted, but no one could hear her.

Vivian struggled to stop her ex-husband from approaching their daughter. Suddenly, fog filled the long corridor, keeping her from moving forward.

"I told you I'd find you," Pietro's voice echoed. "Rest in peace, sweetheart." He smiled, looking at the woman frozen in place.

At the end of the tunnel, a bright light shone over the crib where the baby cried. Fighting against the paralyzing fear, Viviane finally found the strength to move. She ran desperately, only to reach an empty crib. Little Sofia was gone.

"No!" she screamed.

Her eyelids twitched, forcing themselves open. The sounds of medical equipment and doctors' voices flooded her ears.

"She's moving, Doctor!" a woman's voice said. "Look!"

"Call her mother," answered a man's deeper voice.

Vivian's temple throbbed. With half-closed eyes, she saw blurred silhouettes around her bed.

"I want to see my daughter," she said slowly, trying to sit up. "I need to take care of my baby."

It was as if she were speaking to ghosts-no one answered. At some point, calm forced itself over her body after the prick of a needle. Vivian drifted back into sleep as the doctors examined her.

The next morning, a nurse helped Viviane out of bed and wheeled her to the bathroom. After washing up, she tried to stand, but her legs struggled to hold her. She kept asking for her daughter, but the nurse only told her to wait.

After breakfast, she turned to the news, which showed footage of Carnival in 2022 and reports about the pandemic that had swept the world.

Her trembling hands rose to her lips. She couldn't believe she had slept for more than two years away from her child.

"I'm so happy," Otávia said as she walked in.

"Is this real, Mom?" Vivian pointed to the TV on the wall.

"Sadly, that disease took millions of lives." Otávia sat in the leather chair beside the bed. "Your father died during the first wave. It was so hard to go through it all alone."

Holding back tears, Vivian stared at the images of people celebrating Carnival as if nothing had happened. Though she hadn't been close to her father, she still felt the pain of loss.

"We're in 2022?" she asked Otávia.

"Yes, darling. You were in a coma for two years. The neurologist said you're a miracle of science. Dr. Javier told me, "If you follow treatment and continue physical therapy, you'll be walking again soon."

"Where is my daughter?"

The elderly woman stroked her hand, hesitating.

"Where is Sofia, mom?" Viviane yelled.

"I don't know if that's her name," her voice trailed off in a whisper.

"Stop beating around the bush, Mom," Vivian's voice rose. "Where is my daughter?"

"Your ex-husband took her."

"No, no, no!"

Her arms flailed on the bed. Vivian ripped out the IV lines and tried to stand. With no strength to hold herself up, she collapsed onto the vinyl floor, sobbing in despair.

Nothing was as easy as Viviane had expected.

In the first few days, Viviane attended physical therapy and pushed herself to keep up with her daughter. As soon as she was discharged from the hospital, she returned to São Paulo and waited a week before insisting that her mother take her to her old house.

"Pietro doesn’t live here!" Otávia revealed. "Your ex-husband sold the house and signed the divorce papers just before being transferred to the company headquarters in Los Angeles."

Things became even more complicated. Viviane was still frail and much thinner. She was a skinny woman who hardly looked like the healthy one she had been.

Otavia whispered, "He remarried!"

"Please, don’t say another word." Vivian said softly.

"You are to blame!" Otávia got into a fight. "You abandoned Pietro. You might have been alright, taking care of your family, if you had stayed and fought.

"What family?" That was the first time Vivian faced her mother. "On the last night I spent in that house, he assaulted me and raped me. I almost died because of my daughter! That's why I ran away from that bastard."

With her back still turned, Otavía covered her tearful eyes. She could not accept Viviane's words, and so she denied them.

"I am going to the bathroom!"

"Truth hurts, doesn't it, Mom?" Viviane said, raising her voice.

She glanced at her short and rather pathetic mother that had given up after losing her husband and still managed to take her granddaughter's side. Using her crutch to support her, Viviane, at the open window, with her back to the room and the cortile, looked at the stars.

Viviane kept observing the cars from the fourth floor of the building going uptown. The call of death was very strong inside her. But what if Sofia needed her? Pietro had refused the child from the very beginning, so why had he taken the girl? She shut her eyes and started to imagine ways to recover her lost daughter.

__________________________________________________

A year later, Viviane went to physical therapy and her neurology appointments without her mother.

One day, she took the chance to go to the Welsch Corporation building, but the receptionist denied her entry. She even tried to bypass the security guard but was stopped before reaching the administration floor.

Two years after waking from the coma, she had lost hope. She spent her days locked in her room, depressed. One day, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. That same day, her daughter was turning four. Viviane wondered what Pietro would do for her daughter’s birthday. Would he take her to Disney? Or throw a party with whipped cream cake and unicorn balloons?

Viviane covered her head and sighed. She was lying to herself. Pietro had always hated celebrating birthdays. He rarely celebrated holidays with her, let alone with an unwanted daughter.

"Get up, Viviane!" Otávia turned on the light. "Out of that bed, now!"

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Stop torturing yourself over this. You’ll have other children soon."

Viviane lifted her head, shocked by the absurdity.

"Did you think that when my brother died?"

Otávia swallowed hard. That subject was still painful. Viviane’s brother had overdosed at a party while celebrating his college entrance exam results.

"Sorry, Mom!"

Viviane got out of bed and tried to hug her, but Otávia stepped back.

"I’ve been very patient with you, but this has gone too far," Otávia complained. "Take a shower and find a job. You need to leave my house."

Viviane rubbed her face. She shouldn’t have brought up that topic. Talking about her brother’s death was like touching an unhealed wound.

_____________________________________________

Two weeks later, Viviane went to her old school and spoke with the principal, who was sympathetic but said there were no vacancies.

She spent the morning looking for a job and dropping off resumes at private schools in the city. Passing by the Welsch Corporation building, she parked and walked toward where her ex-husband worked.

She bumped into the same man she had seen at a restaurant more than four years ago. Despite his inscrutable expression, he was handsome. Viviane had a faint memory of the man with brown hair and a defined jawline.

"I’m sorry!" a hoarse voice said. "Excuse me," he added in Portuguese this time.

"Don’t you watch where you’re going?" she snapped. "Move out of my way; I'm in a hurry."

Executives paused to look at the woman, still walking with the help of a crutch. She limped across the white tiled floor to the reception.

"I want to speak to Mr. Welsh."

"Sorry, he only sees people by appointment."

"My ex-husband is on the board. Pietro Müller!"

"One moment!" The slender receptionist typed quickly, checked her computer screen, and then picked up the phone. "Good morning, is Mr. Müller available?" she asked, frowning. "Thank you, and sorry for the trouble." The woman in a black suit glanced at the anxious Viviane. "Dr. Müller has been transferred out of the country."

"Can I have his phone number?"

"Sorry, that’s out of my authority," the receptionist said, turning to help someone else.

Not knowing what to do, Viviane rubbed her eyes. She heard the receptionist murmur something about sending nanny candidates to her office.

"Mr. Welsh wants me to find a nanny by the end of today."

"Hi!" Viviane insisted.

"I already told you, I can’t help you," the receptionist replied.

"I’m one of the candidates for the nanny position…"

The HR manager looked at her with disdain.

"Follow me!"

On the administration floor, Viviane waited. Young, delicate-looking women arrived and sat next to her. There were four blondes and one brunette.

"She won’t be hired!" one candidate whispered, raising her chin at Viviane’s crutch. "A child runs a lot and makes trouble; you need to be healthy and strong."

Despite the negativity, the desperate mother refused to give up. She was determined to take this job to find her daughter.

"Viviane Bernardi," the manager called.

Leaving the crutch behind, she struggled toward the door under condemning stares.

"I couldn’t find your resume," the woman on the other side of the desk said.

"My ex-husband recommended me for the position," Viviane lied boldly.

"Is that so?" She raised her thick eyebrows.

"Pietro Müller."

"Oh, yes!" The robust woman frowned and organized the papers on her desk. "Have you worked with children before?"

"I’m a teacher," Viviane smiled, recalling her work. "I love children. I taught for over ten years in a school."

"That’s good!" the manager said, pleased. "Do you speak Portuguese?"

"Sim, eu falo!" she answered quickly.

"Great!" The manager returned the smile.

"Your resume is excellent, but how would you handle a child running around the park?"

Embarrassed, Viviane glanced at one of her legs and sighed. Her limitation could be an obstacle for the coveted CEO nanny position.

"I understand," she said, standing. "Thank you very much."

As she left the room, Viviane didn’t even pick up her crutch. The next candidate was called while she waited for the elevator. She felt so discouraged that she stepped in and stopped beside the same man she had bumped into in the hotel lobby.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked her.

The door to the private elevator opened into a white room, adorned with paintings and mirrors that made the large office appear even more sophisticated.

Viviane's cheeks burned, and her skin flushed when she saw the man sitting behind the massive desk.

"I'm sorry!" she stammered, standing still, trying to recover from her embarrassment. "How do I get out of here?"

"With this!" Gabriel said, holding up an access card and tossing it onto the desk. "What are you doing in my company?"

"I came for a nanny interview, but..." she trailed off, unable to finish. She was unable to articulate anything after the uncomfortable situation.

Not only had she ended up in the owner's office, but she also felt ashamed of how she had treated Gabriel just moments before the interview.

"What's your name?" Gabriel's impassive expression scrutinized her as if analyzing every detail.

In a hushed voice, she replied, "Viviane Bernardi,sir."

Gabriel scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave her a piercing look. At that moment, Viviane realized her chance of finding her daughter was slipping away. So she asked, "Could you open it, please, Mr. Welsh?" She stepped aside as he exhaled heavily and went to the white door.

"Get the hell out of my office!" he ordered, gesturing toward the elevator.

Resigned, she limped into the metal box.

In the private elevator mirror, she noticed her wrinkled white blouse and unkempt hair. Her dull, frizzy strands were pulled into a messy bun. Not even her impressive resume could help her secure this position.

Gabriel Welsch was known as the cold, strict CEO, showing no mercy when an employee made a serious mistake. After yelling for hours at the manager in charge of the Information Technology department, he demanded that he be more careful when hiring interns, since one of them had used the company computer to watch movies and ended up accessing a malicious site that installed malware on the company's computers.

"I already gave him a warning..." the manager said.

"Fire him," Gabriel ordered, staring at the downcast man. "I don't want this to happen again, or you'll be the next one I let go."

"Yes, Mr. Welsch!" The shorter man stood up. "Anything else you need?"

"Get out!" came the cold voice.

With his hands shoved into his pants pockets, he gazed at the busy street through the glass. The sun shone above the skyscrapers scattered across the city. In one of those hotels, Gabriel had woken up in the middle of the legs of a beautiful girl he had spent the night with.

Since his wife's death, he often sought solace in bars where he was unknown. Despite his arrogance, Gabriel wore clothes that didn't attract much attention. Most women assumed he was just another executive working for Welsch Corporation.

Although widowed, he felt the need to relax at least twice a week. His good looks made it easy to find a woman who desired him.

One night, in São Paulo's capital, he found a lonely girl who, in a short time, was tangled in his body on the rumpled sheets of a cheap motel.

Gabriel was a vigorous and demanding lover. He took pleasure in all possible ways and gave satisfaction to the woman who welcomed him. Sometimes, this created an attraction he dismissed.

He always left before the lover woke up but asked the hotel staff to deliver flowers during breakfast. Rarely did he see the same woman more than once. He didn't want to make the same mistake of falling in love. He had grown accustomed to this lifestyle and enjoyed this version of Gabriel Welsch.

That morning, he took a taxi and called the secretary who took care of his daughter. It seemed Elizabeth didn't want to eat and was crying to see her father. Since her mother passed away, the girl didn't like staying with her grandmother.

"I'm busy!" he barked. "Put her in front of a cartoon and have the HR manager hire a nanny today," he yelled, ending the call.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and bumped into a medium-height woman who confronted him. He locked eyes with her green pupils staring at him. Even after she apologized-which was not something he often encountered-Gabe was shocked by the visitor's rudeness. If the executives watching the scene had told her this was the company CEO, she would have feared the tall man standing before her.

"Dad!" The little girl with golden curls ran into his arms. "I don't want to stay with her," she whispered, rubbing her eyes with her tiny fingers.

"Want to go to the park tomorrow?"

"Yes!"

Gabriel hugged her tightly. Elizabeth was the only one who could melt his heart. He would give his life for his daughter.

"Liz ran off," the breathless woman approached. "I'm sorry, but I'm too old for this, Mr. Welsch."

"I promise today is the last day."

He focused on the HR manager with a dark look. His employee was mortified with fear. For a few seconds, Gabe focused on the platinum-haired woman at the reception desk but then shifted his gaze to his daughter.

"Daddy!" The little girl tugged on his ear and giggled. "I want ice cream!"

"Ms. Mills will get it for you!"

"I'm sorry to interfere, sir, but Liz should have a nutritious breakfast."

"Just today!" He handed his daughter to the secretary.

He signaled to the security guard and looked back at the counter; the stunned woman was gone.

"Need anything, sir?"

"Find a short blonde woman and kick her out of the building."

Shortly before heading to the conference room on the rooftop, he stopped by the administration floor. He opened the door and slammed it behind him. The woman, mortified behind her desk, watched him.

"This is for today!" he said loudly. "I hope you do your job, or tomorrow you can start looking for another one."

"Yes, sir!"

Gabriel left and went straight to the boardroom. He spent less than an hour hearing about new investments in oil, real estate, and software. After making a few decisions, he decided to fire the marketing manager.

"Why?"

Mr. Welsch looked at an older gentleman with white hair who asked seriously-the only one who wasn't afraid of him.

"He managed a marketing team that didn't achieve the expected results."

"Your father would have..."

"My father is dead, Mr. Gutierrez," he barked at his father's former partner. "I own this whole damn thing and run it the way I want," he slammed his fist on the table.

As he left the room, he passed by some female employees who couldn't stop flashing smiles. Even angry, he nodded politely. He had to maintain decorum without giving an opening.

He swiped his access card to enter the elevator. The woman looking back got in. Gabe asked where she was going, and yet the short green-eyed woman answered rudely. Her aggression vanished when the door opened.

She assessed the man in simple clothes-ones even her ex-husband refused to wear-and looked around. It was clear she was lost and confused.

_____________________________

In the afternoon, Gabriel twirled a pen between his fingers, recalling the woman who had limped into the private elevator. She kept her head down until the door closed.

On impulse, he picked up the phone and pressed the buttons quickly. Impatient with the delay, he began tapping his shin.

"Have you found that bastard yet?" His voice was heavy with anger. He took a deep breath while touching the picture frame with his daughter's photo. "Do your job properly. I'm paying you for this!" Gabriel shouted and then slammed the phone down with full force.

He lifted his face just as he heard the elevator door open.

"Excuse me, sir!" The HR manager entered, extending her hand toward the man with a terrifying scowl. "I've chosen two candidates." She handed over two sheets.

Gabriel lowered his head and reviewed the first candidate's information, then the resume and evaluation of the second.

"Do you think they're qualified?" He threw the sheets on the desk.

"If you give me one more day..."

"That's enough." He banged his fist on the desk. "I wanted the nanny hired today."

The woman shrugged and paused to think.

"There was a candidate who was an educator. She taught young children for ten years."

"Where's her resume?"

"Well..." She hesitated and looked away before continuing, "Viviane Bernardi has a small problem with one of her legs. It might be a little inconvenient..." She fell silent, noticing Gabe's stern expression.

At that moment, Gabriel remembered the woman who had entered his office. He slapped the desk with an open hand.

"Call Viviane."

"But, sir..."

"I said call her," Gabe shouted.

After the manager left, he picked up the phone and dialed. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for the call to connect.

"Dig into Viviane Bernardi's life," he ordered.