Vivian entered the visiting room at Sant'Ana prison with firm, controlled steps. She had requested special permission for one reason only: to extract from Ciara anything that could be used against Victória.She sat down on the cold, impeccably tidy metal chair, looking like someone who still had the world at her feet. Three minutes later, the doors opened, and Ciara appeared, escorted by guards.The contrast was cruel. Vivian, elegant and confident. Ciara, dejected, with the cloudy gaze of someone who had already tasted the bitter taste of defeat.As soon as she saw her, Ciara's chest was filled with a whirlwind of envy and hatred. Why was she free and radiant, while I was rotting in here?“Ciara, it's been a long time,” said Vivian, with a smile that sounded almost triumphant.Ciara didn't answer right away. She was about to growl, but she held back. Necessity was greater than pride.“Vivian... can you help me?” Her voice trembled with desperation.Vivian raised an eyebrow, as if she
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