Chapter 9 - ROSA
Aline hated that Samantha could still move something inside her.
Suspicion.
Curiosity.
Maybe jealousy.
She hated that most.
She did not ask Heitor immediately.
Instead, she searched.
Rosa Albuquerque.
Twenty-nine.
Architect.
Engaged to Heitor at twenty-seven.
Dead in a car accident.
Rain.
Mountain road.
No scandal.
No obvious connection.
Then Aline found an old article.
Rosa’s family had sued Albuquerque Capital after her death.
Claimed unsafe work pressure contributed.
Case settled.
Heitor never mentioned it.
When he came to the cart two days later, Aline handed him coffee.
“No cake?”
“No.”
“That bad?”
“Who was Rosa?”
The cup stopped halfway to his mouth.
Aline saw the answer before he spoke.
“My first fiancée.”
“You were going to tell me?”
“We’re not together.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Heitor put the cup down.
“No.”
Honest.
Late.
Aline crossed her arms.
“What happened?”
He looked toward traffic.
“She died.”
“I know.”
“In a crash.”
“I know.”
Heitor rubbed his jaw.
“She was working for one of our development firms.”
“She told me the site had safety problems.”
“I told her to let the compliance team handle it.”
“She went herself.”
“The crash happened coming back.”
Aline softened slightly.
“That wasn’t your fault.”
Heitor laughed without humor.
“Maybe not.”
“But I dismissed her because I thought I knew better.”
“I loved being the guy who solved things.”
“She didn’t need solving.”
Aline looked at him.
“You’re doing that with me too.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
That surprised her.
“I’m trying not to.”
They stood in awkward silence.
Then Heitor said.
“Samantha knew Rosa bothered me.”
“She used to say she would never make me feel powerless like that.”
Aline’s face tightened.
“She studied you too.”
“Yes.”
They were both quiet.
Then Aline handed him a slice of cake.
“I thought no cake.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Dangerous.”
“Very.”
That was the first normal moment they had shared in weeks.
It lasted forty seconds.
Then Bernardo called.
A new document had surfaced.
A life-insurance policy on Heitor.
Beneficiary.
Samantha Vale.
Twenty million dollars.
Heitor stared at the phone.
“I never bought that.”
Bernardo answered.
“Somebody did.”
The application carried Heitor’s medical records.
His forged signature.
And a payment source tied to Vale Development.
Samantha’s fraud had just crossed from money into something darker.
---
(To be continued)
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