Episode 2

The camera flashes still lit the ballroom when Helena returned to her conversation with the foreign investors.

Behind her, seated at a makeshift counter arranged by the caterer, Dante Monteserra tried to keep his expression serene while he peeled shrimp under the attentive eyes of high society. The hotel chef, taking advantage of the opportunity, even gave him instructions.

"President Monteserra, you need to remove the entire shell. Like this... yes... careful not to break the meat."

Some people looked away out of politeness. Others made no effort to hide their amusement.

The business elite loved talking about money, but they lived on scandals.

Lívia Navarro stood a few yards away, completely at a loss. She had never imagined the president's wife would react that way. In her mind, a rich, proud woman like Helena would do exactly what all betrayed wives did: make a scene, argue, lose her elegance, and become gossip fodder.

Instead, Helena had turned the humiliation into a charity event.

And Dante was the one being embarrassed.

"Miss Navarro."

The young woman turned quickly at the sound of Beatriz Monteserra's cold voice.

The matriarch kept a polite smile on her face, but her eyes were hard.

"Ms. Alencar is tonight's hostess alongside my son. The least an employee can do is maintain her composure."

"I... I didn't do anything."

Beatriz cast a glance at the man who was still peeling shrimp.

"Exactly. The person who should know everyone's place is my son."

Lívia lowered her head, feeling her face burn.

Across the ballroom, several journalists were already commenting on the situation.

"Did you record everything?"

"Of course. The headline is going to be great. 'President of the Monteserra Group Takes Part in Charitable Action During Benefit Dinner.'"

"It doesn't look like he chose to be there."

"But his wife was brilliant. She turned a possible embarrassment into positive marketing."

Helena heard part of the conversation and merely lifted her glass of water to her lips. She didn't like champagne at business events. She preferred to keep her mind completely clear.

One of the European directors, a gray-haired gentleman named Richard Hoffman, approached her.

"Ms. Alencar, I must admit I'm impressed."

"With the contract?"

"No. With the way you handle conflict."

She arched an eyebrow.

"I don't understand."

"Most very powerful people have trouble controlling their emotions. You were provoked in public, and even so, you stayed calm."

Helena observed Dante from a distance.

He had finished the first tray and was starting the second. His face already showed irritation, but he couldn't stop. The photographers kept recording everything.

She answered calmly.

"My father used to say that losing your temper means handing your weapon to your opponent. I simply don't have that habit."

Richard smiled.

"Now I understand why Alencar Capital never loses a negotiation."

Almost an hour later, the event came to an end.

Dante finally finished peeling the last shrimp. His hands were reddened, and he could barely hide the anger on his face.

As soon as the last guests began leaving the ballroom, he walked straight to Helena.

"Can we talk?"

She finished saying goodbye to a Japanese business couple before turning her attention back to her husband.

"Of course."

"Alone."

She agreed with a slight nod.

The two of them went to a small private room beside the main ballroom. As soon as the door closed, Dante lost his composure.

"What was that?"

Helena faced him in silence.

"You embarrassed me in front of everyone!"

"Funny."

"Funny?" he repeated, incredulous.

"Yes. Because I thought exactly the same thing when I saw you peeling shrimp for your intern."

Dante drew a deep breath.

"That didn't mean anything."

"Then you shouldn't care so much about what happened afterward."

"You're comparing a kindness with public humiliation?"

She crossed her arms.

"No. I'm comparing disrespect with its consequence."

He laughed nervously.

"Were you always like this? Do you have to turn everything into a contest?"

"I didn't turn anything into a contest. You chose to act that way in front of hundreds of people. I simply took the opportunity to arrange a charitable action."

"You did it to punish me."

Helena didn't deny it.

"I did."

The sincerity of her answer caught him off guard.

For a few seconds, Dante didn't know what to say.

"You... you're admitting it?"

"I don't hide my decisions. I thought it was important for you to understand how unpleasant it is to be put in a ridiculous position in front of other people."

He stared at her.

"You're exaggerating. She was just an employee."

"And I'm your wife."

Silence took over the room.

Dante looked away.

The truth was, he couldn't explain even to himself why he had started acting that way with Lívia. Maybe because the young woman always admired him. Maybe because she laughed at all his jokes. Or maybe because, beside her, he didn't feel small.

Since the wedding, there had been a feeling that never left him.

Everyone said the union between the families had been a great deal for the Monteserras.

Everyone said Helena was brilliant.

Everyone praised her ability to close impossible contracts.

No one said Dante was a competent man.

It was always "the husband of the CEO of Alencar Capital."

That fed a silent pride he would never admit out loud.

"Do you know what your problem is?" he asked.

"No."

"You think you're always above everyone else. You act like you're perfect."

Helena held his gaze.

"I never said I was perfect."

"You don't have to say it. The way you are makes it clear."

She took a deep breath.

"If you hold some resentment against me, you should talk like an adult. Not use an employee to get at your own wife."

Dante didn't answer.

Because deep down, she was right.

Lívia had never meant anything.

He had simply liked the idea of seeing Helena lose control.

The problem was that she hadn't lost it.

He was the one who had become the joke.

Meanwhile, in the hotel parking lot, Lívia got into her car completely furious.

She slammed the door and took off her high heels.

"That woman..."

Her phone vibrated.

A message appeared on the screen.

Unknown number: "See what Helena Alencar is like? As long as she exists, you'll never have a place beside Dante Monteserra."

Lívia frowned.

Lívia: "Who's this?"

The reply came almost immediately.

"Someone who would also like to see Helena fall."

She went still.

Before she could write again, another message appeared.

"The Monteserra family will never accept an ordinary girl as a daughter-in-law. But if Helena asks for a divorce... everything changes."

Lívia reread those words several times.

It was exactly what she thought.

Since she had started working at the company, she had noticed Dante wasn't in love with his wife. The two of them seemed like partners, not a couple. There were no public displays of affection, no declarations of love.

If a woman like Helena could occupy that place, why couldn't she?

Her gaze grew more determined.

She still didn't know who was sending those messages.

Nor did she imagine that, on the other side of the screen, someone connected to a powerful rival family was watching the Monteserra couple's every step.

And that her approach to Dante had never been a simple coincidence.

In the hotel's private room, the argument between Helena and Dante was coming to an end.

She picked up her purse from the table.

"Since we're finished, I'm going home."

His expression hardened.

"So that's it? You humiliate me and leave as if nothing happened?"

Helena walked to the door and gripped the handle.

Before leaving, she looked at him over her shoulder.

"Dante, I don't like arguing. I also don't like repeating the same conversation several times."

"What does that mean?"

She opened the door.

"It means I hope I don't have to teach the same lesson twice."