Episode 1

The marble walls reflected the golden glow of the imposing chandelier, as if with each glance they wanted to remind everyone there how powerful that family was. I felt suffocated. Not by the heat — the air conditioning was doing its job — but by the environment. By the looks. By the invisible comparisons that, to me, were always blatant.

The party was for my sister, of course.

Isadora Vasconcellos, the jewel of the family. Graduated in Law, fluent in three languages, slim, elegant, her smile trained in front of the mirror. She was the woman everyone wanted to see. And me? The one no one noticed. The one who served herself champagne while the waiters ignored her presence. The daughter who was only there to complete the family photo — as long as she was in the background, preferably behind someone more beautiful.

I adjusted the strap of my wine-colored dress. It was the most discreet one I found. Just fitted enough not to look like a sack, but loose enough to hide what I couldn't accept. My body. The curves they said were "exaggerated," the arms I never showed, the belly I learned to hide with coats, even in the summer.

"Helena, darling, could you step aside a little? You're blocking the light for the photo," my mother whispered through her teeth, with that social smile on her lips.

I took a step back, my heart sinking in my chest as if each of her subtle gestures was a reminder that, no matter how hard I tried, I would never be enough.

Not like Isadora.

"At least try to smile," she added before turning, putting her arm around her favorite daughter with pride.

I smiled. Because it was easier to pretend it didn't hurt.

I moved away from the group and went to the balcony. I needed air. The city stretched out before me, lights blinking as if celebrating everything I wasn't. I felt the wind tousle my hair and closed my eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like to be someone else. A Helena who took up space without apologizing. Who looked in the mirror and liked what she saw.

"Is everything okay?" the male voice pulled me from my reverie.

I turned quickly, embarrassed. And there he was.

Rafael Monteiro.

CEO of the Alcor Group. Young, successful, absurdly handsome. A man who walked as if the world belonged to him and everyone only lived in it by permission.

Of course he would be there. He was the big guest of the night. The merger between the companies depended on his signature. My father almost had a happiness collapse when Rafael confirmed his presence.

"Yes, everything is fine," I lied, crossing my arms in an instinctive attempt to hide my body.

He approached slowly, without the invasive look I expected. He didn't scan my body like so many others had, as if they were judging every inch outside the standard. He just... looked into my eyes.

"There are a lot of people in there. I imagine it's suffocating sometimes," he commented, with a wry smile that seemed too sincere for someone like him.

I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say. Men like that didn't talk to me. Never. And if they did, it was out of obligation. Out of politeness. Or out of mockery.

"Helena, right?"

"Yes..." I was surprised he knew my name. Most didn't. Some thought I was Isadora's cousin. Or a friend. Never part of the family.

"Rafael," he said, extending his hand.

I accepted it hesitantly. His was firm, warm. And there, for a second, I felt seen. Not as the middle daughter. Not as the fat girl. Just as me.

"You look like you want to run away," he said, tilting his head slightly. "What if I told you I'm in exactly the same vibe?"

I let out a nervous laugh. I almost apologized for it. But he smiled too. A smile that made me want to stay.

"If you want, we can discreetly escape through the side," he suggested, with a slight humor in his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest, as if he were really considering the idea.

The joke drew another laugh from me — more timid, more restrained, but genuine. And, for some reason I didn't understand, he seemed pleased with that. It unnerved me. Men like Rafael Monteiro didn't seek the approval of women like me.

"I don't know if my father would be happy if the future partner escaped the party before the toast," I commented, staring at the city beyond the balcony, avoiding his gaze that burned too much for my comfort.

"Maybe. But I think he would survive if he knew I prefer to talk to his daughter than to continue listening to the Minister of Commerce's speech for the third time this week."

I turned my face to him, trying to interpret that. There was sarcasm, yes, but also a kind of rare frankness. And that bothered me. Because I wanted to doubt, as I always doubted everything — the empty compliments, the forced looks, the attempts at sympathy that always hid some kind of pity. But that wasn't what I saw in his eyes.

"I'm not the kind of person who usually holds the attention of arrogant CEOs," I blurted out, as if defending myself before being attacked.

He raised an eyebrow.

"And who convinced you of that?"

"Everyone," I thought.

My mother, with her disapproving looks every time I took an extra dessert.

Isadora, with her passive-aggressive phrases about "how I could be pretty if I tried."

The boys at school who laughed behind my back — and sometimes, not so much behind my back.

"Life," I replied, with a shrug.

Rafael leaned against the balcony railing, sideways to me. The well-cut suit seemed to have been molded to his body. Perfect, like everything he represented.

"You know what I find curious, Helena?" he said, after a few seconds of silence.

"What?"

"The way you try to hide even when you're in the spotlight. As if you're apologizing for existing, even when you're not doing anything but breathing."

That phrase hit me harder than I wanted to admit. And it made me furious.

"Sorry if my existence bothers you," I retorted, dryly, shame mixing with anger.

He turned his face to me, calm. Unshakable.

"It doesn't bother me. It just makes me want to understand why someone like you believes they deserve less than anyone else in this room."

My heart beat too hard. Not out of romanticism. But because he was stirring up something no one had ever dared to touch.

The truth.

I didn't know how to respond. My silence seemed enough for him, because Rafael just let out a slight sigh and looked at the city in front of us.

"I grew up with people like that," he said, slowly. "Who tell you who you should be, what you should look like, what you should keep quiet about. I learned to play the game. To wear the right suit, the right tone of voice, the arrogance in just the right measure so as not to seem weak. But... it's tiring."

I turned to face him, surprised by the unexpected honesty.

"And why are you here, then?"

"Because, sometimes, you need to enter the castle before you can tear it down from the inside."

We were silent for a few seconds. Me absorbing every word, him perhaps respecting the time I needed to digest all of that. And when our eyes met again, there was no cheap flirting there. No condescension.

There was truth.

"You're not invisible, Helena," he said, without smiling, without embellishing. He just spoke.

"And if you think you are, you're looking in the wrong mirror."

I felt exposed. As if someone had turned a light on me after years of living in the shadows.

But I also felt… alive.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn't want to run away.

Or hide.

I wanted to stay.

With him.

Even without understanding why.

***This work has been signed with NovelToon, and piracy such as reprinting without permission is strictly prohibited.***

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***