Episode 1

Thiago no longer knew what it was to sleep well. He had spent the previous night adjusting his resume on the computer borrowed from the Vila Rubi Lan House. He corrected commas, changed words, tried to seem more professional than he felt. But now he was there—in the cold reception of Ferraz Tech, holding a blue plastic folder as if it were his only armor against the world.

He wore the most neutral dress shirt he could find in a thrift store downtown. The shoes pinched, and the dress pants made it clear that he did not belong in that place of marble, glass, and corporate silence. But he had graduated. He fought for it. No one would take that from him.

"Next, Mr. Thiago Andrade," called the receptionist, without looking up.

His heart leaped. Personal assistant to the CEO. A position that no ordinary person could get. But it was the only vacancy for which they accepted recent graduates. And he had to try.

When he entered the interview room, he didn't expect to come face to face with him.

Gael Ferraz. In flesh, bone, and cruel perfection. Dark suit, piercing gaze, hands crossed on the table. And that air of someone who never had to ask for anything in life—only to command.

"I thought I'd be dealing with HR," Thiago said, without thinking.

Gael raised an eyebrow. "I prefer to look into the eyes of those who will be by my side. Saves time."

The tension filled the air like an invisible gas.

"Sit down," he ordered.

Thiago sat, but the chair seemed less comfortable than a concrete bench. He was sweating. But he kept his chin up. He wouldn't bow down. Not anymore.

"You graduated in administration from UFRB. You worked as a delivery man. You cleaned buildings at night. You've never had direct experience in the corporate world. Why should I hire you?"

Thiago took a deep breath. "Because those who come from below learn to pay attention to the details that you usually ignore."

Gael stared at him in silence for a few too long seconds. Then, he stood up, went to the window, and turned his back.

"Start tomorrow. If you can handle a week, we'll talk again."

Thiago blinked. "Are you serious?"

Gael turned around, finally smiling—a small smile, as if the challenge had just begun.

"Here, everything is serious."

The door closed behind Thiago with a dry click, and he descended the 32 floors as one who returns to gravity after floating for moments in something that seemed like a dream.

It was only when he stepped onto the street again that he felt the knot in his throat tighten.

The cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Your mother cried again because of you."

"You chose this dirty life, now bear the consequences."

"There's still time to repent, Thiago."

He deleted the messages before even finishing reading them. It was always like that. Every week, a new sermon. A new punishment without shouting, but full of guilt. His parents lived in an upper middle class neighborhood, had a good car, a house with a pool, and a respectable surname in the church. They had money—and shame for the gay son who decided to leave home at twenty-one with an old suitcase and patched-up dignity.

The truth was simple: he wasn't poor for lack of resources. He was poor because he chose to be free.

Thiago entered the small studio where he lived, in the Bras region, locking the door behind him. The place was cramped, poorly lit, and smelled of expired disinfectant, but it was his. There was no crucifix on the wall, no judging looks, no passive-aggressive silence at dinner. Only the noise of cars and the distant roar of the city that never slept.

He threw his backpack on the sofa and looked at himself in the cracked mirror on the wall.

His eyes were red, but alive.

Gael Ferraz. That man seemed more like a statue than a person. Cold, calculated, almost cruel. But there was something in that look that Thiago recognized. Loneliness perhaps. Tiredness of protecting himself too much.

He smiled wryly.

"If you think I'm weak, Gael... then wait for me."

Tomorrow began his first morning as personal assistant to the most feared CEO in Sao Paulo.

And he was ready for anything—except to fall in love.

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