Chapter 102 Chapter 102
Slowly, the screens across campus returned to normal. The virus was gone, but the scars left on everyone's reputation were permanent.
The group dispersed like defeated shadows, wishing the ground would open up beneath their feet. Among them, Mirela Crispim was the picture of destruction.
The video had not only exposed her actions; it had violated her soul by revealing her secret diary to the world. Every dark desire, every forbidden thought was now public knowledge. Her obsession with engaged men, her plans to steal them away, and, most terrible of all, her visceral hatred for Katherine, to the point of wishing her death in a car accident.
Her most rotten secrets were offered up as a feast for the curiosity of others.
To make matters worse, Claire—the “friend” she had tried so hard to please—had humiliated her in front of everyone, calling her a shameless thief. Mirela didn't want that frivolous lipstick; she just wanted to hurt Claire, to get back at her for the years of being treated like a servant. But the arrival of Cristiane Pedrozo had turned her plan into a deadly trap.
Now, the looks she received were no longer ones of admiration. They were looks of disgust, as if she were a crawling monster. Mirela, the golden girl, the perfect daughter who had always been praised since childhood, felt her face burning with unbearable shame.
She ran down the hallway, tears clouding her vision, wanting only to hide from the world. But as she turned the corner, her body froze.
There was her mother. The usual sweet and proud expression had been replaced by a cold and disappointed seriousness. Mirela's world, built on lies and appearances, had just completely collapsed.
“Mom...” The whisper came out broken, laden with terror.
The silence in the teachers' dormitory was suffocating. Eliane walked ahead, her rigid silhouette emanating a dark energy that Mirela had never seen before. When the door closed, isolating them from the world, the air seemed to disappear.
Mirela remained standing, her hands clasped behind her back, her heart beating like a trapped bird. She expected comfort, she expected her mother to defend her against Katherine's “evil.” But instead, Eliane picked up a ruler from the table.
“Hold out your hand,” Eliane ordered, her voice low and dangerous.
Mirela recoiled, shock paralyzing her senses. Her hand did not move.
“I told you to hold out your hand!” Eliane's scream echoed off the bare walls, making Mirela jump.
“I won't!” Mirela exploded, tears of frustration finally breaking through the barrier.
“I didn't do anything wrong! It's Katherine! She's the one with the wicked heart! She exposed us all, she humiliated us! You should be punishing her, Mom, not your own daughter!”
Eliane leaned on the table, her knuckles white with force. Her fury was palpable.
“You still dare to argue?” Eliane hissed. “You stole, Mirela. You stole and tried to destroy the life of an innocent person. Tell me the truth now: did you do it or not?!”
Mirela sobbed, her chest heaving. She refused to admit it. In her twisted mind, it was the fault of the person who caught her, not hers.
“Ever since Katherine joined our family, you've changed!” Mirela shouted, venom spilling out. “You favor her, you look at her as if she were a treasure. Who is your blood here? Even my brother fell under her spell! Her name is Katherine Lutz, mother! She's not a Crispim!”
“Stop changing the subject!” Eliane retorted, her voice sharp. “This has nothing to do with Katherine. What I'm questioning is your character! Did I teach you to be a thief? Is there not enough money in our house for lipstick? You humiliated us, Mirela. You dragged our name through the mud!”
The humiliation was too heavy a burden for Mirela. Cornered by the truth, she launched her last and most dangerous arrow:
“Every time I say you have a crush on her, you get angry. What are you hiding from me? Do you two have some other kind of relationship? What's the secret, Mom?!”
“SHUT UP!” Eliane's roar was like thunder, silencing Mirela instantly.
The echo of the scream hung in the air. Mirela was stunned; in her entire life, her mother had never lost control like that. The doubt planted, however, continued to burn silently beneath the surface.
While drama consumed the dorm, the world outside seemed oblivious to the storm. Katherine and Jessica, escaping the monotony of school, found refuge at an ice skating rink.
Katherine glided across the rink with natural grace, the cold wind cutting across her face and helping to clear her thoughts. She skated aimlessly for a while, feeling the metal of the blades cut through the ice, until she pulled back to the edge, leaning against the railing.
That's when she saw it.
On the second floor, a giant electronic screen broadcast the finance channel. In the center of the image, a face she had desperately tried to erase from her mind that morning appeared.
“It is a great honor to have Mr. João Arbex, president of Arbex Bank, on our program...” The presenter's soft voice floated through the room.
There he was. João Arbex.
His calm and elegant face exuded an almost divine serenity. His deep voice, picked up by the venue's sound system, answered questions with firm maturity. He looked like a snow lotus sprouting from an icy cliff: dazzling, pure, and completely inaccessible.
The presenter on the screen, a woman accustomed to dealing with powerful people, seemed to have lost her professional composure. Her eyes were shy and her smile too radiant. Around the rink, other women stopped skating, mesmerized by the aura of the man on television.
Katherine felt that familiar irritation — a pang of jealousy mixed with resentment — stir deep in her chest. That man would always be the sun, drawing all eyes into his orbit, while she struggled not to be consumed by his brilliance.
Without saying a word, she looked away from the screen. With a sudden, elegant movement, she glided back to the center of the rink, picking up speed as if fleeing from a ghost.
A few minutes later, she was already taking off her skates. Jessica, noticing the sudden change in Katherine's mood, silently changed her shoes and followed her outside.
The image of João Arbex still burned in Katherine's mind, colder than ice itself.