Chapter 19 Luana Mendes was not John's biological daughter.
“And the cause of John Valadares' death?” she asked, returning to her neutral tone.
“We don't have the full picture yet,” Adam said, “but we've found some clues. A few more days and we'll have the final answer.”
Katherine drummed her fingers on the table impatiently.
“Anything else?”
Adam hesitated. And when he spoke, his voice was heavy:
“The Mendes... have started collaborating with Lutz Pharmaceuticals.”
Kath's gaze slowly darkened, as if someone had turned off a light inside her.
Lutz Pharmaceuticals.
Her father's company.
“And that's not all,” Adam continued.
“After breaking ties with us, they cut off relations with several other pharmaceutical companies. All the precious raw materials were directed solely to Lutz. But before he died, John Valadares rejected Lutz several times. It seems there was some personal conflict with his father...”
“Was that decision Luana Mendes' idea?” Kath asked coldly.
“Yes. Tomorrow night they're holding a banquet to celebrate and officially sign the contract.”
Kath let out a light laugh, cold as a blade.
“How silly.”
Adam joined in the laughter.
"Yeah. Mendes never had the strength to compete on its own, but its raw materials are practically unbeatable. Lutz has always wanted this partnership—that's why they've been trying to buy Mendes for years. And now, after the president's death... his daughter has simply surrendered to the enemy. It's unbelievable.
Kath was silent for a few seconds—long enough for the air around her to change.
Then she said:
“Do this: investigate something now. And bring me the results before dawn.”
Adam swallowed hard.
“Boss... what happened?”
She looked out the dark window, her eyes sharp, shining as if we could see in them the spark of a fire about to start.
“The Lutzes didn't get this deal on their own. Someone else is behind this move. And I want to know who.”
The next morning, the university was buzzing with rumors, but Katherine remained oblivious to the chaos, sitting calmly in her seat. Between her long, slender fingers, she wove a red thread bracelet, adorned with small, light pearls, delicate as grains of pollen.
The contrast between her tranquility and the buzz around her was almost poetic.
While the girl wove, each student discussed the same explosive news: Jessica had not shown up for class—again.
But now there was a reason.
The front page of the country's largest newspaper splashed the scandal that had hit the Mendes Group like a bomb:
John Valadares had raised another man's daughter for more than ten years—without knowing it.
And worse, his wife, Jhenifer Souza, had been in contact with her lover all this time.
The leaked conversation made it clear: Luana Mendes was not John's biological daughter.
But the final blow was even more cruel.
After his death, John had left his entire fortune to Jhenifer and Luana.
Jessica, his youngest daughter, had inherited absolutely nothing.
The whole country went into a frenzy.
The once hostile girl was now seen as a victim.
When biology class began, the atmosphere was tense.
Professor Wilson — as strict as his name suggested — was particularly impatient.
The class representatives handed out assignments while the room filled with silence.
Then, the wooden ruler hit the podium with a sharp tap.
“Katherine. Stand up.”
The girl raised her face with irritating serenity.
“Explain why you haven't handed in your assignments twice in a row.”
She opened her mouth, but the teacher cut her off, his expression stern.
"It doesn't matter. I've given you enough time. Your behavior shows selfishness, laziness, and total disregard for the community. I've already spoken to your homeroom teacher — and, for your own good — you will attend remedial classes for an entire week. You will learn what real effort is.
A murmur ran through the room: pure envy.
Katherine blinked slowly, irritated, and replied:
“Thank you, teacher. But I was born incapable. You don't need to worry about me.”
The ruler struck again.
“This is not an invitation. It's an order. Sit down.”
The rest of the class was a series of scoldings directed at her.
Any change in posture — a reprimand.
Any distracted glance — a lecture.
Kath's eyebrows furrowed slightly; in her eyes, a glimmer of contained frustration.
When the bell rang, releasing the students, she didn't rush.
She hated crowds—especially in the summer, when each person exuded a unique combination of odors that her sensitivity made unbearable.
She sat quietly, waiting for the staircase to empty, while checking her cell phone.
Among many irrelevant messages, there was one that mattered:
\[Adam: Boss, everything is going exactly as you predicted. The plan is going perfectly. They won't be able to sign the contract anytime soon~\]
Katherine smiled slightly.
It wasn't a pretty smile—it was sharp. Dangerous.
The kind of smile that heralds storms.
Ten minutes. That was how long the conversation lasted before she got up, determined, leaving the now empty room behind. The school building was immersed in a deathly silence; there was not a soul in the hallways.
Katherine dismissed the elevator. She preferred to walk down the stairs slowly, her footsteps echoing with an almost rhythmic calm.
However, as she approached the first floor, the quiet was broken. A crystal-clear, lively laugh rose up the stairwell.
Blocking the entrance were the school's elite: three boys and four girls, the center of attention.
Among them, Dandara Arbex shone with her usual arrogance, and at her side, Nísia flashed that sweet smile that fooled everyone. They were waiting for someone for lunch, laughing loudly, masters of the world.
But as soon as Katherine's silhouette appeared around the corner of the staircase, the laughter died instantly.
The silence that followed was heavy, laden with judgment. Seven pairs of eyes fixed on her. There was no curiosity, only contempt.
Some wrinkled their noses at her simple, unbranded clothes; others rolled their eyes at her lonely aura. To that golden group, she was nothing more than a stain on their perfect landscape.
Katherine, however, did not waver.
She walked through the crowd like an ice queen—chin up, gaze serene, completely indifferent to the hostility emanating from them. It was as if they were invisible.
Only when she was already at a safe distance did Nísia let out an exclamation, covering her mouth with her hands in a perfect act of surprise:
“Oh, my God! I was so distracted talking that I completely forgot to invite my cousin to lunch with us!”
Dandara Arbex crossed her arms, snorting with disdain:
“Don't even think about it! If you invite that girl, you can forget about coming with us. I refuse to sit at the same table as her.”