Chapter 2 - FOUR WORDS
Samara read the message twice.
DON’T LET HER TAKE ME.
Her stomach tightened.
She looked toward Henrique.
He was watching Caio drink water through a straw, relief replacing irritation.
He had no idea what his son had written.
Samara folded the napkin.
“Mr. Vasconcelos?”
Henrique turned.
She held it out.
His expression changed when he read the words.
“What is this?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Henrique looked at Caio.
“Who is ‘her’?”
Caio immediately covered his ears.
Samara stepped between them.
“Don’t push him.”
Henrique looked offended.
“He’s my son.”
“Then act like you want him to answer, not like you’re interrogating an employee.”
Henrique stared at her.
Nobody spoke to him like that.
Certainly not a waitress.
“You have no idea who you’re talking to.”
Samara’s eyes stayed steady.
“And you have no idea what scared him enough to write that.”
That stopped him.
A tall woman in a white designer coat appeared beside the table.
Perfect hair.
Diamond earrings.
A smile that looked expensive and empty.
“There you are.”
Caio stiffened.
Samara noticed immediately.
The woman leaned down.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Caio pushed his chair back.
Henrique stood.
“Laura, wait.”
Laura Almeida was Henrique’s fiancée and the communications director of Vasconcelos Group.
Publicly, she was elegant, generous, and devoted to Henrique’s “challenging family journey.”
Privately, Caio rarely looked at her.
Laura noticed Samara.
“Who is this?”
“Our waitress,” Henrique said.
Laura smiled without warmth.
“Then why is she standing here?”
Samara looked at Caio.
His fingers were tapping faster again.
Laura reached for his shoulder.
He recoiled.
“Don’t,” Samara said.
Laura slowly turned.
“Excuse me?”
“He doesn’t want to be touched.”
Laura laughed softly.
“He’s eight.”
“He’s still allowed to say no.”
Laura’s smile disappeared.
Henrique stepped in.
“Enough.”
For one second, Samara thought he was speaking to Laura.
He wasn’t.
He looked at Samara.
“You’ve helped. Thank you.”
It was a dismissal.
Samara nodded.
As she walked away, she heard Laura whisper.
“He can’t behave like this tomorrow.”
Henrique lowered his voice.
“I know.”
“The Halcyon Center already confirmed the assessment.”
Samara stopped.
Her blood went cold.
Halcyon.
She turned slowly.
Laura was still speaking.
“They’ll keep him overnight if necessary.”
Samara’s hand tightened around her serving tray.
Three years earlier, her younger brother Daniel had come home from the Halcyon Center with bruises around both wrists.
The center had called them “protective interventions.”
Samara’s family had called them what they were.
Restraints.
She had spent months fighting administrators who hid behind lawyers, reports, and polished language.
And the name printed at the bottom of every denial letter had been familiar.
Vasconcelos Family Foundation — Principal Sponsor.
Samara looked at Henrique.
May you like
The billionaire wasn’t merely sending his son somewhere that terrified him.
He was funding it.
