The phone slipped from my fingers, clattering against the floor, but I barely heard it over the pounding of my heart. Helena’s voice still rang in my ears, dripping with amusement, with control.
"You should’ve stayed dead, sobrinha."
I forced my breathing to slow, gripping the sheets beneath me as if that could ground me back to reality.
She was alive.
She was watching.
And she wasn’t finished.
I didn’t hesitate.
I grabbed my phone, ignoring the tremor in my hands as I dialed Clara’s number.
It rang once before she picked up. “Bela?” Her voice was laced with concern, with exhaustion.
“She called me.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“What?”
“Helena,” I whispered. “She’s still here.”
A rustling sound came from the other end as if she had shot up from wherever she had been sitting. “Where are you?”
“The hospital.” My voice was steady now, despite the storm inside me.
“I’m coming.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I need you to go to Evelyn. Tell her everything.”
Clara hesitated. “Bela.”
“I need to know what our next move is,” I cut in. “Helena isn’t running. She’s playing.”
Clara exhaled sharply. “Fine. But you’re not staying there alone.”
I closed my eyes. “I won’t be alone for long.”
Because if Helena was watching me, she wouldn’t wait.
She’d strike.
Less than an hour later, Marcelo walked into my hospital room, his face carved from stone. He had barely spoken to me since we found out about Helena’s involvement in my mother’s death. Now, his silence carried weight, something heavy and unspoken between us.
I met his gaze. “She called me.”
His jaw tensed. “What did she say?”
I repeated the words, letting them settle between us.
Marcelo’s hands curled into fists. “She’s taunting you.”
“She’s testing me.”
His eyes darkened. “And you’re going to let her?”
I tilted my head. “Do I have a choice?”
Marcelo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We should’ve ended this the moment we had the chance.”
“Should we have?” I asked, watching him closely. “Or did we do exactly what she wanted?”
He didn’t answer.
Because we both knew—Helena was always ten steps ahead.
I wasn’t waiting for her to make the first move.
As soon as night fell, Marcelo and I left the hospital. Evelyn had already arranged a safehouse—one of her many backup locations, untraceable.
I expected resistance when I told Clara I was leaving, but to my surprise, she didn’t argue.
She simply met my gaze, strong and unwavering. “I’m coming with you.”
I exhaled, reaching for her hand. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”
We left in silence, slipping into the car with Marcelo behind the wheel.
The city lights blurred past as we moved.
I could feel Helena’s presence everywhere.
Watching.
Waiting.
And I was done waiting.
The safehouse was small, isolated. Evelyn was already there when we arrived, her laptop open, files spread out across the table.
She looked up, eyes sharp. “Good. You’re here.”
Marcelo locked the door behind us while Clara and I sat down across from Evelyn.
I cut straight to the point. “What do we have?”
Evelyn hesitated. “More than we thought.”
She turned the laptop toward me.
My breath caught in my throat.
Dozens of files.
Names.
Dates.
Transactions.
All tied to Helena.
But one file stood out.
My mother’s.
I reached for it, my hands shaking. “What is this?”
Evelyn’s voice was quiet. “Your mother wasn’t just looking into Helena’s business.”
I flipped the file open.
And the world tilted.
Because staring back at me.
Was a photo of me.
My hands trembled as I turned the pages.
My mother’s notes were scrawled in the margins, frantic, urgent.
She hadn’t just been investigating Helena.
She had been protecting me.
From her.
Clara’s hand found mine, grounding me, but my thoughts were already spiraling.
“She knew,” I whispered.
Evelyn nodded. “And she died for it.”
I slammed the file shut, my chest heaving. “Then we finish what she started.”
Marcelo’s voice was grim. “How?”
I met his gaze.
“We take her empire apart.”
As if on cue, my phone buzzed.
A text.
From an unknown number.
But I didn’t have to guess.
I already knew who it was.
Come home, Bela. Let’s end this properly.
My fingers tightened around the device.
Clara leaned in, reading over my shoulder.
“She’s baiting you.”
I exhaled.
“I know.”
Marcelo crossed his arms. “So what’s the plan?”
I looked at each of them.
Then, at the message again.
And I made my decision.
“We go home.”
The text sat on my screen like a silent challenge.
Come home, Bela. Let’s end this properly.
Helena wasn’t just taunting me.
She was calling me back.
To the place where it all started.
To the place where it was all supposed to end.
And I was done running.
Evelyn was the first to speak. “This is a trap.”
Marcelo scoffed. “Of course it’s a trap. Everything she does is a trap.”
Clara’s grip on my wrist tightened. “So what do we do?”
I looked at them, each one carrying their own battle scars, their own wounds from this fight.
Marcelo, torn between guilt and duty.
Evelyn, calculating every possible outcome.
Clara, steady even in the face of my worst nightmares.
I exhaled slowly.
“We go.”
Marcelo tensed. “Bela.”
“I know it’s a trap,” I interrupted. “But we have no choice. We need to end this. Before she does.”
Evelyn closed her laptop with a quiet click. “Then we don’t go in blind.”
I nodded. “We go prepared.”
The drive back to my childhood home was eerily silent.
Every street felt smaller, every building unfamiliar despite how deeply embedded they were in my memories.
Clara sat beside me, fingers laced with mine. Her thumb moved in slow circles against my skin, a silent reminder that I wasn’t alone.
Marcelo drove. Evelyn was in the back, eyes scanning her phone, waiting for any sign that Helena had set up another trap.
But she hadn’t.
No security.
No backup.
Just an open door.
Waiting.
My stomach twisted as we stepped out of the car. The house loomed in front of me, the same white pillars, the same heavy wooden door.
Except now, I knew what kind of rot was buried beneath the polished surface.
Helena was already inside.
Waiting.
The moment I stepped into the grand foyer, I saw her.
Sitting in the same leather chair my mother once favored, a glass of wine in her hand, Helena looked every bit as composed as ever.
“Welcome home,” she said smoothly.
I didn’t respond.
Marcelo stayed close, his gun hidden under his jacket. Evelyn took position near the staircase, blocking any potential exits. Clara, as always, stayed right beside me.
Helena sighed, swirling her wine. “You look just like her, you know.”
My fists clenched. “Don’t.”
She tilted her head. “Why? She was strong. But she wasn’t you.”
Something in my chest tightened.
“She tried to protect me from you.”
A small smile. “And that was her mistake.”
I exhaled sharply, fighting the urge to lunge at her. “Why?”
Helena leaned back, crossing her legs. “Because she wanted to play by the rules. And in this world, there are none.”
I felt Clara stiffen beside me, but she said nothing.
Marcelo took a step forward. “You knew she’d fight back.”
Helena raised a brow. “Of course I did. But I didn’t expect her to get this close.”
She set her wine glass down on the table beside her, the sound deafening in the quiet room.
“And when she did, well... I had to clean up the mess.”
A cold, sharp rage settled in my bones.
“You killed her.”
Helena didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
The air left my lungs.
Even though I had known it, hearing her say it so plainly, so casually, made something inside me crack.
I clenched my jaw. “Then you already know why I’m here.”
She smirked. “You think you can kill me?”
My fingers twitched toward my gun.
“I know I can.”
She chuckled. “No, sobrinha. You can’t.”
Then she nodded slightly.
And suddenly, I felt it.
A presence behind me.
A second too late.
A gun pressed against my back.
Marcelo spun, his weapon raised.
Evelyn moved before I could react, her own gun drawn.
Clara’s fingers tensed against mine.
Helena sighed. “Did you really think I’d let you walk in here without insurance?”
I inhaled slowly.
Did I?
Maybe a small part of me had wanted to believe there was still a way out of this without bloodshed.
A foolish part.
I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the man holding the gun against me.
A stranger.
Not family.
Not her people.
Hired help.
Which meant one thing.
They were expendable.
I moved fast.
A sharp step to the side.
A twist.
The sound of a struggle.
Then a shot.
The man dropped before he could fire.
And suddenly, the entire room exploded into chaos.
Marcelo shot first.
Evelyn ducked behind the grand staircase, returning fire.
Clara pulled me back, shielding me even as she reached for her own weapon.
Helena didn’t move.
She simply smiled.
Even as her men fell.
Even as blood stained the pristine floor.
Even as the balance shifted.
Because she had already won.
She knew she wasn’t getting out of this.
And she didn’t care.
I raised my gun, breath heavy.
She didn’t even flinch.
“You were supposed to take my place,” she murmured.
I hesitated.
For just a fraction of a second.
Then...
Another gunshot.
Not mine.
Marcelo’s.
Straight through her chest.
Helena gasped, eyes widening as she staggered back.
For the first time, real shock flickered across her face.
Not at the pain.
But at the betrayal.
Marcelo lowered his gun.
“You never deserved to win.”
Helena opened her mouth.
No sound came out.
Then she fell.
And just like that.
It was over.
The silence was deafening.
I stood there, staring at her lifeless body, my hands still trembling.
Evelyn exhaled sharply, lowering her gun.
Clara stepped in front of me, cupping my face. “It’s done.”
I wanted to believe that.
I needed to.
But then...
A soft chime.
A phone.
Not mine.
Helena’s.
It had fallen beside her.
And on the screen.
A message.
We’re still watching.
A cold chill ran down my spine.
Because as I stared at those words.
I realized something.
Helena wasn’t the end.