Chapter 278
A few days later.
Lilian and Matthew were sitting in her office, watching the broadcast of Morning Gossip, the most watched entertainment news program in the country.
On the screen, a crowd of reporters surrounded Joana's black car, parked in front of the central police station. Cameras flashed everywhere. The sound of flashes mingled with the buzz of questions shouted about the scandal that had been dominating the media since dawn.
Then the car door opened. Joana emerged, accompanied by her lawyer. She walked slowly, her chin raised and an air of false serenity about her.
She wore a simple but deliberately angelic knee-length white dress. Her straight black hair fell down her back, and her face, with almost no makeup, showed only a slight sheen of pink lip gloss.
It was the perfect image of manufactured innocence.
Mattew raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
“Wow... why does she look like that?” he asked, pointing to the screen.
“Didn't she have time to put on makeup because the police called her too early?” Lilian, sitting on the sofa with her legs crossed and a cup of coffee with milk in her hands, let out a short laugh.
“Of course not, Matthew.” She shook her head, amused. “This woman knows exactly what she's doing.”
She's playing the victim to win over the public and the press.
On TV, the reporter announced the start of the impromptu press conference.
Journalist Lisa Hendrick, from São Paulo Hoje, managed to get close and asked, microphone in hand:
“Miss Joana, good morning. Can you answer a few questions?”
Joana nodded with a weak smile. “Yes, of course. But first, I want to thank all of you who have been here since early this morning.” She paused dramatically, turning to face the cameras. “And I also want to apologize to my fans for making them wait and worry about me.”
She bowed her head slightly in a studied gesture of humility. Her voice sounded shaky, and even the most skeptical reporters hesitated for a moment.
“Miss Joana,” Lisa Hendrick continued insistently, “could you explain why you were summoned again by the police to give a statement?”
Joana sighed, placing her hand on her chest as if she needed to compose herself.
“To be honest, I don't know exactly why.” She blinked slowly, her voice soft. “But as a law-abiding citizen, I came here to cooperate with the investigation of the case involving my former manager.”
She paused, tilting her face and deliberately wiping the corners of her eyes gently—tears that everyone knew weren't there.
The courtyard in front of the police station fell silent. Everyone waited for what would come next.
Matthew snorted, dropping the remote control on the table.
“Impressive. She really thinks the public is stupid.”
Lilian just smiled, her eyes fixed on the screen, cold and analytical. “Let her talk. The more she tries to play the saint, the easier it will be to bring her down.”
The calm tone of Lilian's voice contrasted with the chaos being broadcast live. And behind that restrained smile was the certainty that Joana's show was about to end — in front of the cameras she herself had called in.
“I'm sorry,” said Joana, forcing her voice to tremble. “I suddenly felt sad remembering Fabio's kindness. I hope he is at peace up there now. He was a good friend... and an exemplary manager to me.”
The flashes went off. A murmur ran through the crowd. The act was working—everyone seemed touched by her sudden emotion.
But soon another reporter raised his voice, breaking the brief silence.
“Miss Joana, please clarify something. Is the case involving Fabio true? Is he solely responsible? And, as you stated earlier, are you really not involved in anything?”
Joana stared at him, her expression changing subtly. Her eyebrows knitted together in a studied gesture of anguish.
“I already explained. I don't know anything about...” She hesitated. “About the outcome of the case. What I can say now is that I wasn't involved...”
Before she could finish, the lawyer beside her raised his hand, cutting her off.
He took a step forward and, with a diplomatic smile, spoke in a firm tone:
“Excuse me, gentlemen. My client has an appointment. We will provide more information after the meeting with the investigator. Thank you for your understanding.” He discreetly took Joana's arm and led her into the police station.
The frustrated journalists continued to film and shout questions that went unanswered.
Some reporters gathered near the sidewalk, exchanging quick impressions:
“Are you sure she's involved?”
“Of course. There's no way the manager could have done it all alone.”
“Exactly!”
“I think so too.” “Guys, don't jump to conclusions. Let's wait for the results of the investigation.”
“Oh, please. If they called her back, it's because they found new evidence.”
“True!”
“But why does she speak with such confidence, as if she were innocent?”
“Since when do guilty people admit anything? They just deny it—until the evidence is laid out on the table.” — Hahaha, that's right!
— Yeah... it'll be interesting to see how this ends.
The cameras turned off, but the buzz continued. The name Joana was already dominating the news and social media.
Meanwhile, inside the police station, Joana walked alongside her lawyer, visibly irritated.
She looked at him sideways, frowning.
“Why did you stop me from continuing to speak?” she whispered, careful not to be heard by anyone. “I needed to show the public that I am calm and confident. It helps my image.”
The lawyer sighed discreetly.
“Miss Joana, you can't make hasty statements,” he replied in a low voice, maintaining a professional tone. “It's in your best interest. Anything you say can be twisted by the press.”
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked, confused, not understanding the problem.
He just nodded, looking resigned. “It's not wrong, but... dangerous.”
Joana didn't like the answer. She clutched her purse tightly and looked away, irritated by his control over her words.
Shortly thereafter, the two arrived at the interrogation room. A police officer in a suit was waiting for them at the door.
“Miss, this way, please,” said the man, making way for them.
The lawyer leaned slightly toward her and whispered:
“Don't be nervous. Just answer the questions as we agreed.”
Joana nodded, taking a deep breath.
“Mmm. I know,” she replied, trying to sound confident.
But as she sat down, her fingertips trembled on the cold metal table.
The silence in the room and the distant sound of cameras outside echoed a single question in her mind:
How long could she keep up her own lie?