LOGINCelina’s eyes couldn’t help but linger on the defined, muscular abs glistening with droplets of water. He was beautiful. Far too beautiful for the situation they were in. And that… that was unsettling.
She got to her feet, still dazed, and noticed the reddened skin on his shoulder. Concern pushed her forward, but she stumbled on the leg of an old side table. Before she could fall, his hands caught her firmly. Those dark eyes studied her intently, tracing every detail of her face. Celina held his gaze for a few seconds. There was something about this man that unsettled her—an unspoken, dangerous magnetism. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was desperation. Then he kissed her. A kiss that was possessive, consuming, as if he meant to devour her whole. Heat surged between them, and Celina responded in kind. She wanted this moment as much as he did. She broke the kiss, breathless. “This can’t happen… it’s insane. I don’t even know who you are. Not even your name…” “I don’t know yours either,” he replied, pulling her back into a kiss with even greater intensity. Then Celina whispered, “I want you.” “Are you sure about that?” His voice was hoarse against her skin. Celina closed her eyes and gave a faint, knowing smile. “Don’t worry. I’m an adult, I’m not drunk, and I know exactly what I’m doing.” He studied her for a moment, then smiled in satisfaction. “Good.” His fingers trailed along her body until they found the zipper of her dress. Slowly, he eased it down, letting the fabric slip over her curves until it pooled at her feet in a circle of silk. She wasn’t naked. Beneath the dress, she wore luxurious lingerie—a black lace set that hugged her body with exquisite precision. His eyes roamed over her exposed skin as though she were some divine vision. “You’re beautiful.” A shiver ran down her spine. He knew exactly what to say, as if every word had been chosen to make her feel wanted. And it was working. With a decisive pull, he drew her against him, their bodies pressed together. Then, without warning, his lips crashed onto hers, shaking her to her very core. It was intense, deep, consuming. Celina felt her knees weaken as he deepened the kiss, claiming every inch, every breath. His fingers traced the bare line of her back before gripping her firmly and lifting her into his arms. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the heat and strength of him against her. He smiled against her lips. “I can be gentle,” he murmured. With steady steps, he carried her to the bed in the center of the room, laying her down gently on the sheets. There, under the muted glow of the city lights, they surrendered to each other—hungry, reckless, lost in the storm of desire. At one point, his hand cupped her face. “Why you? Why, out of all the women who’ve been in my bed, are you different?” The words struck her as strange, yet they sent another shiver down her spine. His hand caressed her face with unexpected tenderness before he kissed her again—a kiss that made her legs tremble, that burned against her skin and stole her breath. Then he whispered in her ear, his voice low and heavy with desire: “You drive me crazy, you know that?” He kissed her again, and once more, they gave in to the intensity between them. Nothing else existed. No pain. No betrayal. Only the moment. Dawn spilled through the window, washing the room in soft, golden light. The São Paulo sky was painted in shades of orange and pale blue as the city slowly stirred to life below. Celina awoke slowly, disoriented, her head pounding. The effects of last night’s alcohol still lingered. She blinked, trying to gather her bearings, then turned her head—and her heart skipped a beat. He was lying beside her, asleep. His broad chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm. The sheet draped low over his hips, revealing the warm, inked skin of one arm, bent casually beneath his head, as though nothing in the world could disturb him. Even in sleep, there was an intensity about him—something almost dangerous. Celina swallowed hard, her emotions swirling chaotically. She sat up quickly, clutching the sheet to her chest as though it could shield her from the truth of the night before. “What did I do?” she whispered to herself. Her pulse hammered. She tried to piece the night together, but the memories came only in fragments—her at the bar, the accident, the charged glances, his intoxicating words, the pull of raw desire. Hot lips exploring her body. Breathless gasps in the shadows. The sure, possessive touch of skilled hands roaming her skin. Then… only flashes, a haze of heat and motion. Her breathing grew uneven. She had never done anything like this before. Ever. Pressing a hand to her face, she felt the warmth of her skin. “My God… what the hell was that?” The whisper slipped out, heavy with guilt and disbelief. Wrapping the sheet around herself, she moved to the edge of the bed, her feet meeting the cold floor, grounding her in reality. She stood slowly, gathering her clothes from the floor in a flurry of embarrassment, and slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Bracing her hands on the sink, she stared into the mirror. Her reflection was a cruel reminder of the night’s recklessness—green eyes shadowed with exhaustion, lipstick faded, hair tousled in disarray. “Look at you, Celina,” she murmured to herself, voice trembling. “What have you done with your life?” The question hung heavy in the bathroom’s silence. She dressed quickly, avoiding her own gaze, shoving down the tight ache in her chest. She didn’t want to face him again. Didn’t want to talk. She just wanted to leave. Cracking the bathroom door, she peeked out. He was still asleep. Even in stillness, he radiated danger. A mystery she would never solve. And maybe that was for the best. She took a slip of paper from her purse, scribbling a quick note in her hurried handwriting: That’s enough to cover the hotel. Placing it on the bedside table, she drew in a deep breath and slipped out of the room quietly, her shoes in hand. Cruel or not, the real world was waiting for her beyond that door. It was time to face her life again. Alone.The celebrant then read something he had prepared.“Thor, when I asked you what you admired most about Celina, you said many things. But two of them stayed with me. The first was her gaze. You said you get lost in it, that it was the first thing that drew you in, that it carries a magnetism impossible to resist. That it is no coincidence one of your daughters is named Safira, because after meeting Celina, the color green became your favorite.”Thor smiled, deeply moved, as he ran his thumb gently over his wife’s hand.“The second,” the celebrant continued, “was her hair. You confessed you are addicted to falling asleep with its scent. That after a difficult day, your remedy is holding her in your arms, running your fingers through her hair. That is where you find peace.”Celina could not hold back her tears.“That’s exactly how it is…” she murmured, her voice trembling.The celebrant then turned to her.“Celina, you also said many things about Thor. But two of them touched me deeply.
Their company continued to thrive, now with a branch in Canada. And there was another piece of news many spoke about with joy: Luzia, Gabriel’s mother, had married an American widower with no children, finding at his side a new chance at love.Isabela and Felipe were there as well, accompanied by their adopted children, ten-year-old Lorenzo and six-year-old Larissa. Choosing to welcome siblings so they would not be separated showed exactly who they had become: a family that chose love every single day. Isabela continued to run the NGO with dedication, traveling the country giving inspiring talks. She had published several books and still found time to pursue a master’s degree. Felipe, now a judge, balanced his routine with postgraduate studies and carried himself with serenity and maturity—a man completely fulfilled. The mansion they had bought was not merely a comfortable house; it was a home designed for the children and for Isabela’s mother, where life restarted each day in harmony
Later, while Antonella and Safira accompanied Celina and Emma to the spa for an afternoon of pampering before the party, Ravi stayed home with his father and James.“Dad, do you think one day I’ll be like you?” the teenager asked as he helped Thor choose a suit.Thor smiled.“You’ll be better than me, my son.”“But I want to be strong like you and take care of my family the way you do, Dad.”Looking his son in the eyes, Thor said,“Strength isn’t here,” he said, pointing to his arm. “It’s in here,” he added, touching his son’s heart. “And you already have that.”Ravi broke into a satisfied smile, feeling bigger than his age.James, who had been watching the scene in silence, stepped closer and added in a deep, calm voice,“Listen carefully, Ravi… a man is measured by the love he gives. If you learn to love and respect the way your father loves and respects your mother, you won’t just be like him—you’ll be an even greater example for those who come after you.”The teenager fell silent
They stayed there, trading low words, memories, and complicit laughter. Then, when Celina was almost surrendering to sleep, Thor nudged her lightly.“Hey, no sleeping yet. Let’s take a shower and get dressed. You know that when daylight comes, our trio will invade the room with their breakfast.” He laughed. “And I refuse to miss the second round under the shower.”Celina moaned playfully.“You’re still insatiable, Thor Miller.”He cupped her chin, fixing her with an intense gaze.“The fire you have makes me this way.” He smiled mischievously. “You can fool the world with that sweet demeanor… but behind closed doors, you’re a little devil—and I love that. Nothing demure about you.”Celina blushed, lightly tapping his chest, but ended up laughing. “You’re outrageous.”“Mine,” he corrected, before wrapping her in his arms.With a firm motion, Thor lifted her and carried her to the bathroom. The shower turned on, and there they loved each other once more—laughing, teasing, surrendered lik
In São Paulo, from the top of Thor’s penthouse, the world seemed small, as if the city that never slept were there only to witness their story.It was midnight. Fifteen years of marriage. Fifteen years of love, overcoming, tears, and victories. Every year, without fail, Thor followed the same ritual: he began the celebration at midnight. It was the couple’s sacred moment—the instant when time seemed to return to the beginning of everything, just the two of them, far from any witnesses.That night would be no different.Thor entered the bedroom silently, closed the door behind him, and turned the key, locking it. In his hands were two bags and a mischievous look. Celina, already in bed, was leafing through a book, but lifted her eyes when she sensed his presence.“Love…” she smiled, closing the book. “What are you up to?”“Nothing you won’t like.” His deep voice came laden with desire.He set the bags on the nightstand, approached slowly, and placed one knee on the mattress. His gaze b
That morning, they headed to Ouro Preto, where the colonial mansion and narrow cobblestone streets formed a postcard-perfect setting. Felipe, animated, showed her the Church of São Francisco de Assis, Aleijadinho’s masterpiece, while Isabela was enchanted by the gilded details of Minas Gerais Baroque.“It’s beautiful…” she said, taking in the grandeur of the building. “It feels like time stopped here.”Felipe smiled, proud.“That’s Minas, love. History in every corner.”In the afternoon, they drove to Tiradentes Square, where tourists took photos and street vendors offered homemade dulce de leche. The traffic light turned red, and Felipe stopped the car. Distracted, Isabela looked to the side. Her heart raced.A few meters away, sitting on the sidewalk, was a thin woman in torn clothes, her hair tangled, her eyes lost. But there was something unmistakable in that face, aged before its time.“Mom…” the whisper escaped her lips like a scream held in for years.Suddenly, as if the world







