Time passed and I was reborn!

Six years later...

The soft sound of jazz filled the hottest bar on Paulista Avenue.

Golden lights reflected off crystal glasses, mingling with muffled laughter, discreet conversations, and the aroma of expensive wine with imported perfume.

It was a perfect setting—elegant, superficial, and suffocating.

Helena, impeccable in a black satin dress, had spent the evening surrounded by investors who talked too much and understood too little, and now, with a throbbing headache and a professional smile still plastered on her face, all she wanted was a quiet corner to breathe.

But fate—as always—would not grant her a break.

Tania followed her to the back hallway.

“Tania...” Helena murmured, with a tired half-smile. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

The businesswoman crossed her arms, her gaze as hard as ice.

“Yes, there is.” Her voice cut through the air. “Is it true that you signed up for the assistant screenwriter audition for the movie ‘Love Me If You Can’?”

Helena tilted her head, serene, as if she had already anticipated the attack.

“Yes. What's the problem?”

“The problem is that you're not going to that audition!” Tania fired back, her voice laden with authority. “And that's not a request, Helena. It's an order!”

Helena raised an eyebrow, indifferent. “Oh, really? And why is that?”

“Because you went behind my back!” Tania took a step forward. “The company has already decided that Camila will be the lead. And we don't need two people from the same family on the same project!”

Helena let out a low laugh—short and cold.

“Interesting...” she murmured, taking a sip of the wine she was still holding. “Does that conflict with my work as a screenwriter? Or did Camila send you here to threaten me?”

Her eyes sparkled with irony.

“Don't tell me she's afraid of losing... to me.”

“Wake up, Helena!” Tania exploded. “The Rodrigues family invested five million in this film. The role is hers. It always has been!”

Helena looked up, too calm.

“So, if the role is already hers... why are you so nervous, Tania?”

“Because you're my client, and you're going to obey!” she shouted, stamping her heel on the floor. “If you challenge me, don't blame me for what I do!”

Helena laughed, without humor. “What a miracle. I thought you had already forgotten that I'm your client.”

Tania's gaze darkened.

And before Helena could react, she felt a violent push in her back.

Her body was thrown forward, falling into a dark storage room at the end of the corridor.

Her cell phone slid across the floor and disappeared into the shadows.

The door slammed shut.

Outside, Tania's footsteps slowly receded—firm, merciless.

Helena stood motionless for a moment.

Then she let out a short sigh, leaning her head against the door.

There was no fear in her eyes—just the old weariness, mixed with coldness.

Since joining Vox Talents, she had learned to swallow humiliation in silence. At first, Camila pretended to be courteous—she gave her sister small jobs, as if it were charity, but over time, the masks came off, and Camila didn't want to share the stage. She wanted everything: the fame, the spotlight... and the Rodrigues name for herself.

“If I don't get this script,” Helena thought, “I'm leaving this company. Once and for all.”

Silence surrounded her—until a soft sound broke it.

A small noise. A stifled sob.

Helena frowned, alert.

Among the stacked boxes, something glinted—a faint reflection of light. She approached slowly, her heels tapping cautiously on the floor.

And then she saw him.

A little boy, no more than five or six years old, cowering in the corner.

His large, dark eyes watched her silently, frightened, but with something that made her shudder — a strange familiarity.

Helena stopped, her heart racing for no apparent reason. Her voice came out soft, almost a whisper.

“Hey...” she crouched down. “What are you doing here, sweetie?”

No answer.

Just the child's steady gaze, too deep for someone so small.

A shiver ran down Helena's spine.

The bar on the other side of the door seemed distant, unreal. And the question echoed inside her, dark and inevitable:

“What was a child doing alone... in the back room of a bar?”

“Hi, sweetie...” Helena bent down, softening her voice. “What's your name? How did you get in here?”

Silence.

She tried again, in a gentle tone, asking small questions. But the boy remained motionless, his eyes wide, his body cowering in the corner — like a wild animal, cornered and frightened.

Helena sighed wearily.

A stuffy storage room, full of boxes and the smell of dust — a makeshift refuge for those who no longer had a place to belong.

Time seemed to drag on.

The light above them flickered once, twice... and then went out with a sharp crack.

Darkness took over completely.

For a few seconds, all Helena could hear was her own breathing, until a soft, almost imperceptible sound broke the silence.

She frowned, because the sound was coming from the boy.

Teeth chattering.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” she asked in a low voice, trying to sound amused.

The noise stopped... for a moment. And then it returned, louder.

Helena shook her head, a tired smile appearing.

“So small and already so fearful...” she murmured, almost tenderly.

She got up slowly, massaging her temples. Her whole body ached—a consequence of the previous night, of the fake smiles, the glasses of wine, and the looks full of false interest.

She took a few steps toward the boy. He backed away, pale with fear.

But Helena just let herself slide to the floor, sitting down next to him. She leaned against the cold wall, closed her eyes, and whispered:

“Calm down, I won't bite you, little one.”

Silence returned.

And then, exhaustion won out.

In a few minutes, Helena fell asleep.

When she woke up, she felt something warm touching her leg.

She looked down—and her heart melted. The little boy was lying next to her, his little head resting on her thigh.

One of his little hands clutched the hem of her blouse tightly, as if afraid she would disappear.

Helena laughed softly.

“Oh, my God... what a beautiful little thing...”

She reached out her hand with a tender smile and stroked his hair. But the moment she did, the smile disappeared.

His skin was too hot.

“You have a fever!” she whispered, alarmed, touching his forehead again. “No... it can't be...”

Fear rose in her throat. The fever was high. Dangerous, and worse, Tania wouldn't be back until after the audition, so they could be stuck there for hours.

Helena jumped up, looking around desperately.

That's when she saw it: a thin beam of light cutting through the darkness, slicing through the air.

The light bulb was burned out.

But there was light.

She looked up.

On the ceiling, a small skylight let in the first rays of dawn.

Hope.

Helena dragged an old ladder to the wall and turned to the boy.

“Hey, little one... come here. I'll help you out, okay?”

The boy shook his head vigorously, his eyes steady and defiant.

Helena stared at him and understood.

He didn't want to leave her.

A tired, sweet smile curved her lips.

“So you're loyal, is that it? You want to stay here and suffer with me?” she joked, lightly pinching his cheeks. “But listen, hero... the window is small. I can't fit through it. If you get out, you can go get help. Okay?”

The boy hesitated, and Helena felt her heart tighten.