4

The room was spacious, furnished with refined elegance. The walls were clad in rich wood, and floor-to-ceiling windows allowed the golden afternoon light to pour in, bathing everything in a warm glow. Seated at the desk, an open folder before him, Mr. Jonathan McCartney—one of the most influential businessmen in the country—was reading intently when Jessy and Rafael entered.

“May we talk to you for a moment?” Jessy asked, his tone serious.

His father looked up at once, alert to the gravity in his son’s voice.

“Of course. Sit down.”

Jessy approached with steady steps and took a seat. Rafael followed, casting a tense glance at his cousin.

“Did something happen?”

“Yes. And it’s serious. It’s about two girls who go to school with us—Hanna and Clara,” Jessy began.

“Daughters of whom?” Mr. McCartney asked, already searching his memory for familiar family names.

“Hanna is the daughter of a businessman who died years ago in a plane crash. Clara is the daughter of her aunt and uncle,” Rafael explained. “And those relatives are the problem. They’re Hanna’s legal guardians, but… they’re abusing both girls.”

The businessman’s expression changed instantly.

“Abusing them?”

“Hitting them. Humiliating them. Especially the uncle… Oswaldo. He’s a cruel man. They showed up at school today covered in bruises, trying to hide them with makeup. We pushed a little, and they told us everything. They said it happens often. For no reason,” Jessy said, his chest tightening as Hanna’s frightened eyes flashed through his mind.

Mr. McCartney slowly closed the folder in front of him and interlaced his fingers, thoughtful.

“This is serious. Very serious,” he said, looking directly at them. “And Hanna’s father—his name was?”

“Henrique Roshe,” Jessy answered. “You knew him, didn’t you?”

The man nodded.

“An honorable man. Tough, but principled. I was shocked by his death back then. He had promising ventures.”

“And his brother took advantage of it,” Rafael added. “He took everything—the money and the guardianship of the girl.”

Mr. McCartney stood and began pacing slowly across the room.

“You were right to bring this to me. And you did well coming directly to me,” he said firmly. “I don’t want the police involved just yet. This needs to be handled carefully. We need evidence—but above all, we need to protect those girls before something worse happens.”

“Can we get them out of that house?” Jessy asked. “Have them live with someone they can trust?”

“We can’t remove them without a legal process,” he replied. “But… I can secure temporary custody or place them in protective housing based on an anonymous report and medical evaluations. It will take coordination. I know judges, prosecutors. This can move quickly.”

“I want to take care of Hanna,” Jessy said, his voice trembling slightly, but firm.

“And I’ll take care of Clara,” Rafael added, just as resolute.

Mr. McCartney allowed himself a brief smile—proud.

“You’re growing up. Taking responsibility for what matters. That’s the right thing to do. Leave it with me. I’ll start today.”

“Thank you, Dad. Truly,” Jessy said sincerely.

“We’ll keep everything confidential. In the meantime, stay close to them. If anything happens, call me immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said at once, relieved to finally be doing something real.

Mr. McCartney returned to his desk, already reaching for his phone and a notepad.

As they left the office, Jessy felt something shift inside his chest—a weight lifting. Maybe, for the first time in a long while, Hanna and Clara would have a real chance to be happy—and free.

Moonlight streamed through the window, casting a pale glow across the bedroom. Hanna sat on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. She had washed off her makeup, and now the bruises on her face were visible in the mirror. What hurt the most, however, wasn’t her skin—it was not understanding why this was happening. Why she was there. Why she never seemed to be enough. Not even worth existing.

Clara had gone to bed early, exhausted, and Hanna tried not to make a sound. She knew Oswaldo was a light sleeper, and anything could become an excuse. She glanced at her phone. No messages. And yet, something felt different that night. She couldn’t explain it… A lighter breath. As if someone had silently promised her that things were about to change.

Clara lay awake, staring at the ceiling, headphones in her ears. The low music wasn’t enough to drown out the memories of the day. She could still feel her father’s heavy hand. Her mother’s indifferent gaze. But what echoed most clearly was the conversation at the ice cream shop—the way Rafael had looked at her, worried. The way he made her laugh even when everything hurt.

She wanted to believe it would work out. That this time, someone would really get them out of there. But it was hard to trust promises. In the past, promises had only led to disappointment.

Jessy lay staring at the ceiling. Lights off. Total silence. He replayed the moment he had seen the bruise on Hanna’s skin. It had shaken him in a way he couldn’t explain. He wanted to protect her. To take her away from that place. To be everything no one had ever been for her.

And yet, he felt the weight of the McCartney name. His father could move mountains—but not even all the money in the world guaranteed a happy ending. And Hanna… she deserved far more than promises. She deserved freedom. Love. Peace.

And he would do everything in his power to give her that—even if it meant facing hell.

Rafael lay on his back, spinning a basketball in his hands, staring up at the ceiling as if searching for answers in the cracks of the paint. He knew Clara was special from the first day he saw her. But now… it was different. Taking care of her had become a mission.

The hatred he felt toward her uncle grew with every beat of his heart. But he needed to keep a clear head. His uncle had always said, “You win faster with intelligence than with anger.” And Rafael was ready to play this game the right way.

Silence. Each one in their own room. Each one facing pain, fear, and hope.

That night, perhaps none of them would truly sleep.