Helena did not comment on the photograph.
After ending the call with Clara, she set her phone beside her plate and went on with lunch as if nothing had happened. Anyone who did not know her would never have noticed that something had changed. Her posture remained impeccable, her movements elegant, her voice steady.
But Beatriz Monteserra knew that silence well.
For thirty years, she too had learned to hide disappointment behind a polite smile.
"It was Dante, wasn't it?" she asked quietly.
Helena did not answer right away. She picked up her water glass, took a small sip, then turned the phone screen toward her mother-in-law.
Beatriz looked at the photograph.
Dante sat behind the wheel of the family's private car. And beside him, in the front passenger seat, sat Lívia Navarro.
It was not a company car.
It was not a driver taking an employee to a meeting.
It was the vehicle Dante and Helena used on weekends, on short trips, and for private commitments. It was an intimate space, reserved for the couple.
Beatriz closed her eyes for a moment.
She needed no explanation.
"Your father-in-law used to do the same thing," she murmured. "When he wanted to provoke me, he'd take one of his secretaries in the car I had chosen for the two of us. I pretended I didn't care, but I spent entire nights unable to sleep."
Helena took back the phone.
"I'm not upset because of the front passenger seat."
"Then why?"
"Because he knew."
Beatriz stared at her.
"The pillow in that car was a gift from my father. I leave it there because I usually work during trips, and sometimes I end up sleeping on the way. Dante knows that. Even so, he allowed another woman to take that place."
Her mother-in-law drew a deep breath.
"Are you going to talk to him?"
Helena looked out the restaurant window. The avenue was busy, people moving in and out of appointments, cars cutting across the city at a frantic pace. The world went on exactly the same, regardless of what was happening inside her marriage.
"I am," she finally said. "But not today."
"Why?"
She gave a small smile.
"Because I never make decisions when I'm disappointed. First I observe. Then I act."
Beatriz squeezed her daughter-in-law's hand across the table.
In that moment, she was certain Helena was far stronger than she had imagined.
Meanwhile, Dante drove down the coastal avenue toward a meeting with representatives from a construction company.
Lívia sat beside him, watching the scenery through the window.
She had insisted on going with him.
"President Monteserra, I really don't want to be alone at the office today. Everyone's talking about yesterday."
He had not especially wanted to take her, but he had given in.
Maybe out of guilt.
Maybe out of pride.
Maybe because he wanted to prove to himself that he was doing nothing wrong.
Lívia stroked the small pillow propped against the side of the seat.
"Did your wife leave this here?"
"Yes."
"She must spend a lot of time with you."
Dante gave a short laugh.
"Actually, we barely have time for things like that. Helena is always working."
Lívia lowered her eyes.
"That's a shame."
"What is?"
"A man like you deserved someone who took better care of you."
He did not answer.
Over the past few months, he had been hearing that kind of comment often. Lívia always said he worked too much, that he seemed tired, that he deserved to rest. Small gestures that stroked his ego.
Helena, on the other hand...
If she found him exhausted after a week of meetings, she would probably ask whether he had delegated his tasks properly or whether he needed to reorganize his schedule.
She cared for him in a different way.
But Dante had never stopped to think about that.
Lívia's phone vibrated discreetly.
She looked at the screen without him noticing.
Unknown number: "Keep going. The closer you get to him, the faster Helena will lose patience."
She locked the device and put it back in her purse.
At first, those messages had frightened her. Now she was starting to like them.
Because, somehow, they confirmed what she wanted to believe.
Helena Alencar was not invincible.
At Alencar Capital Global, Helena had returned to work.
A video conference with North American investors took up much of the afternoon. After that, she met with the board of directors to discuss a new international acquisition.
When the meeting ended, one of the board members, an older man named Augusto Menezes, asked for a few minutes in private.
"Ms. Alencar, there's something I'd like to ask."
"Of course."
He closed the office door.
"The rumors about the Monteserra Group... are they true?"
She lifted her eyes.
"What rumors?"
"Some partners have mentioned a possible family crisis. They said President Monteserra has been very close to an employee and that it may create problems."
Helena remained silent.
Augusto quickly added, "Forgive the indiscretion. My concern is strictly business. Alencar Capital has joint investments with their group. If there is any risk, we need to prepare."
She stood and walked to the enormous glass window in her office.
"Mr. Augusto, Alencar Capital never mixes emotions with business."
"Then there's no reason for concern?"
Helena looked at the city before her.
"As long as I'm at the head of this company, no personal problem will put our shareholders at risk."
The board member nodded, satisfied.
But as soon as he left, Helena stayed still for a few seconds.
That was exactly what bothered her.
She had always separated her personal life from business.
But Dante seemed incapable of doing the same.
If one careless gesture had already sparked comments in the market, what would happen if he kept crossing limits?
Her phone rang.
This time, it was Dante himself.
She answered.
"Yes?"
"Are you still at the office?"
"I am."
"We need to talk about yesterday."
Helena slowly turned her chair and sat behind the desk.
"I thought we'd already talked."
"No. You spoke, I listened, and then you left."
"And now?"
"I want to have dinner with you."
She glanced at the electronic calendar open on her desk.
"I can't today. I have a commitment."
On the other end of the line, Dante frowned.
"What commitment?"
"A dinner with some investors."
He felt a strange discomfort.
"Can't you reschedule?"
"No."
The answer came quickly, precisely.
"Helena, we're married."
"Yes."
"Then our marriage should be a priority."
She almost smiled when she heard that.
It was curious to hear those words after what had happened in the last forty-eight hours.
"Our marriage has always been a priority to me, Dante."
He caught the hidden meaning in that sentence.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means some priorities require reciprocity."
Before he could insist, she ended the call.
Dante stared at the phone for several seconds.
The conversation had lasted less than two minutes, but somehow he felt he was losing space.
It was not jealousy.
It was the uncomfortable sense that Helena was pulling away.
And he hated not having control over the situation.
Late that afternoon, Helena left the company accompanied only by her driver.
On the way, she asked him to change the route.
"Ma'am, aren't we going to the mansion?"
"No. Stop by Imperial Jewelers."
"Of course."
Fifteen minutes later, the car parked in front of one of the most luxurious stores in the city.
As soon as she entered, the manager recognized her and walked quickly toward her.
"Ms. Alencar! It's an honor to receive you."
"Good afternoon, Eduardo. I need some information."
"Whatever you wish."
She took her phone from her purse and showed him a photograph.
It was the image of a diamond and sapphire bracelet, an exclusive limited-edition piece.
"Is this model still available?"
The manager studied the photo.
"Actually, no. Only two units were produced for the country."
Helena kept her expression neutral.
"Two?"
"Yes. One was purchased about six months ago by you."
She nodded.
The bracelet was stored in the safe at the Monteserra mansion. Dante had given it to her on their wedding anniversary.
It was a rare, customized jewel, something impossible to reproduce quickly.
"And the second?" she asked.
The manager checked the system.
"It was sold yesterday afternoon."
Helena showed no reaction.
"I see."
"May I ask why?"
She locked her phone screen and put the device away.
"Just curiosity."
She said goodbye politely and left the store.
Inside the car, she watched the city pass by through the window.
Maybe it was a coincidence.
Maybe someone else had bought the second unit.
Maybe she was imagining things.
But for some reason, the memory of the photograph of Lívia in the front passenger seat kept forcing its way back into her mind.
At the same time, in another part of the city, Lívia arrived at the small apartment where she lived.
As soon as she opened the door, she found an elegant dark-blue box on the table.
There was no card.
There was no sender.
She opened the package, and her eyes lit up.
Inside rested a diamond and sapphire bracelet.
A dazzling piece.
The young woman smiled, convinced the gift had been sent by Dante.
Without wasting time, she put the jewel on her wrist and took a photograph.
While she chose a filter to publish the image on her private social network, she did not notice that outside the building, a black car remained parked.
Someone watched the apartment window carefully.
And when the photo of the bracelet was published, a man in the vehicle's back seat gave a faint smile.
"Excellent," he murmured. "Now we only need to make sure Helena Alencar sees the post."
The trap was being set.
And the third humiliation had already begun.
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