Episode 4

Julia stared at the contract as if it were a death sentence.

The black letters danced on the page, mocking her.

"Marriage contract between Edward Salvatore and Julia Ferraz."

She ran her hand through her messy hair, moving away from the back seat of the car as if she were being suffocated. Anger burned, but behind it was something much worse: impotence.

"This is a joke. I'm not a doll you buy with a check."

Edward remained silent. He just watched her, like someone studying the reaction of a cornered prey.

"I'm not your solution. Go find another rich and bored idiot to play house with!" she shouted, her eyes watering, but without shedding a single tear.

He took the contract from her hands with the same coldness with which one picks up a loaded gun.

"I don't play, Julia. Much less house."

"And why ME? Why me specifically?"

He hesitated for half a second.

"Because you have nothing. And because, deep down, you know you need me."

The phrase hit like a slap.

She wanted to shout no. That she had pride. That she would manage on her own.

But the image of her grandfather coughing blood on the stained sheet came like a punch in the stomach.

"And if I accept..." she said in a hoarse voice, "what do I gain, besides losing my freedom?"

"You save the man who raised you. You gain money, stability. A roof. And when all this is over... you disappear with more than you ever dreamed of having."

Julia lowered her eyes. She was trembling. Not out of fear. Out of anger, yes. Out of desperation, perhaps. But mainly, from the damn truth.

She had no choice. And she hated that.

"I need time," she said, without looking at him. "This isn't... just anything."

Edward gave a slight nod.

"Twenty-four hours."

"That's it?"

"If it takes longer than that, it's because you're looking for a way to say no. And I don't usually wait for negative answers."

The car door opened on her side. Marco, the empty-eyed brute, was waiting for her to get out.

Julia hesitated. Then she got out.

Before she slammed the door, Edward said:

"One last thing, Julia. Don't delude yourself.

She stopped.

"This isn't a fairy tale. I'm not your prince.

I'm the villain in your story. And you're only here... because you're useful."

The door closed with a dry snap.

The car disappeared into the darkness of the nameless street, leaving Julia alone with the cold wind and a heart as heavy as lead.

The house was silent when Julia entered.

Too silent.

She closed the door carefully, as if the weight of the world were hanging on her shoulders. Her hands were still trembling, and her heart was beating as if it wanted to explode in her chest. The conversation with that man - Edward Salvatore - hammered in her mind like a curse she couldn't ignore.

In her grandfather's room, the sound of the low television filled the room.

Old Ernesto Ferraz was asleep, with his glasses crooked on his face and a patched blanket up to his neck. Even sick, he still snored loudly, like someone refusing to leave.

Julia approached slowly, carefully took off his glasses and placed them on the small table.

She stood watching for long minutes.

The wrinkled face. The thin skin. The man who raised her alone, even with life being cruel. The man who taught her to ride a bicycle, who made coffee with burnt sugar when the powder ran out, who told stories of a world where people were still good.

She knelt beside the bed and buried her face in her hands.

"Why now, grandpa...? Why do you have to be like this right now?"

The pain overflowed in silence.

She cried without making a sound.

As she always did.

Because crying out loud was not allowed when growing up with hunger and overdue bills.

Because there was no room for weakness when the whole world ignored you.

But there, alone, she allowed herself. Just for a moment.

When she returned to the living room, she took a deep breath and took the contract she had hidden from her pocket. The paper still smelled of the luxury car. Of danger. Of Edward.

She read everything, line by line.

"Civil union with a minimum duration of six months."

"No legal ties after termination."

"Absolute secrecy about the contractor's personal life."

"Full payment of all medical expenses of Mr. Ernesto Ferraz."

It was simple. Cruel. Practical.

If she signed, she would sell her freedom.

If she didn't sign, she would bury her grandfather.

Suddenly, she heard his voice - the old man's - like a whisper in her mind:

"Fire, girl. You were born with it. But choose well where you light it. Because once burned... it never comes back."

She raised her face. Her eyes were still wet, but there was decision in them now.

She wouldn't do this for Edward.