The walk back to the apartment felt like a lifetime. The name on the paper burned in my pocket, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at it again. It felt like if I did, it would solidify something I wasn’t ready to accept.
Marcelo.
It didn’t make sense.
I had trusted him with my life.
Had fought beside him.
Had believed—without hesitation—that he was one of the only people on my side.
Had I been wrong?
When I stepped into the apartment, Clara was waiting. The moment she saw my face, her expression hardened. “What happened?”
I swallowed, my throat tight. “Where’s Marcelo?”
She hesitated. “Out. Evelyn called him for something.”
Good.
I needed time.
I exhaled and pulled the folded paper from my pocket, handing it to her. “Read this.”
Clara frowned but took it, her eyes scanning the name inside. Her face paled.
“This—” She looked at me, disbelief shadowing her features. “No. It’s not possible.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “That’s what I thought, too.”
She shook her head, pacing. “There has to be another explanation.”
I wanted to believe that.
But I had learned the hard way—trust was dangerous.
Clara stopped in front of me. “We can’t jump to conclusions.”
I clenched my jaw. “Then how do we explain this?”
She pressed her lips together. “We don’t. Not yet.”
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration boiling inside me. “You think I should just pretend I don’t know?”
“No,” she said, voice firm. “I think we need proof. Real proof.”
She was right.
But that didn’t make it any easier.
The First Doubt
Evelyn arrived later that night, exhausted but sharp as always.
She took one look at Clara and me and immediately knew something was wrong. “Okay,” she said, setting her bag down. “What happened?”
Clara glanced at me, silently asking if I was ready.
I wasn’t.
But I nodded anyway.
I slid the note across the table to Evelyn. “This came from Helena.”
She hesitated, then picked it up, her eyes narrowing as she read the name. Her reaction was more controlled than Clara’s, but I didn’t miss the way her fingers tensed.
When she looked up, her expression was unreadable. “Do you believe her?”
I hesitated.
“No,” I admitted. “But I can’t ignore it, either.”
Evelyn exhaled, running a hand over her face. “This is bad.”
Clara crossed her arms. “We need to find out the truth.”
Evelyn nodded. “Agreed.”
A tense silence filled the room.
Then Evelyn spoke again.
“I can dig into Marcelo’s records,” she said carefully. “See if there’s anything we missed.”
I swallowed. “Do it.”
Evelyn hesitated. “And if we find something?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Then I’ll handle it.”
An hour later, the door opened, and Marcelo walked in.
He looked at each of us, his brows furrowing. “What’s going on?”
I forced myself to stay calm. To act normal.
Because if Marcelo was hiding something, he couldn’t know that I knew.
Clara was the first to speak. “We’re trying to put together the pieces from today.”
Marcelo’s gaze flickered between us, assessing. “And?”
Evelyn leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “And we need to be careful.”
He nodded slowly, but something in his expression shifted. “Yeah. We do.”
The way he said it—like he knew something we didn’t—sent a chill through me.
I forced myself to smile. “You look tired.”
He shrugged. “Long day.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Same here.”
And for the first time since I had met Marcelo—
I wasn’t sure if I was looking at my friend.
Or my enemy.
The Surveillance Plan
Later that night, after Marcelo had gone to his room, I sat with Evelyn and Clara in the dimly lit living room.
“We need to watch him,” Evelyn said. “Every move.”
Clara nodded. “We need to be sure.”
I exhaled slowly, pressing my palms against my knees. “Then we do this carefully. If he’s innocent, we don’t tip him off.”
Evelyn’s fingers moved across her keyboard. “I’ll get access to his messages, his recent locations.”
Clara looked at me. “And you?”
I met her gaze.
“I’ll stay close.”
The next day, I followed Marcelo.
Not physically.
But I watched his routines. His interactions. The way he talked, the way he moved.
And then...
A crack.
A small one.
Barely noticeable.
But there.
A phone call.
I was standing in the hallway, just out of sight, when I heard him speaking. His voice was low, careful.
“We don’t have much time,” he said. “She’s starting to figure it out.”
Silence.
Then, he sighed.
“No. She doesn’t know yet. But she will.”
I swallowed, my heart pounding.
Who was he talking to?
And was he talking about me?
I turned, moving quickly, my hands shaking.
Because I had my answer.
Marcelo was hiding something.
And I wasn’t sure if I was ready to know what.
That night, I told Clara and Evelyn what I had heard.
Evelyn’s expression darkened. “Then it’s worse than we thought.”
Clara took my hands in hers. “Bela. We need to be sure.”
I exhaled. “We will be.”
Evelyn leaned forward. “Then let’s set a trap.”
I hesitated.
Then, I nodded.
Because I needed the truth.
Even if it destroyed me.