Lorena was nine years old and lived in the most beautiful house in Quinta da Boa Vista, the most expensive gated community in Campinas. Five suites, an infinity pool, a garage with four imported cars. Lorena's room was bigger than most of the apartments, filled with toys she hardly ever played with anymore.
Yet, Lorena cried every day, always at 6 p.m., when the sun began to set and the other children returned from swimming, laughing with their parents. Lorena would stay at the window, clutching the worn teddy bear that had belonged to her mother. Her mother had died three years earlier from aggressive breast cancer. Lorena was six years old when she watched her mother waste away, going from 140 to 90 pounds in four months.
The last thing she said was, "Take care of Daddy for me, okay, my love?" But Roberto wouldn't let anyone take care of him. He threw himself into his work. At the office at 6 a.m., in meetings until midnight. He built buildings, shopping malls, condominiums; he built everything, except time for his daughter. A year later, at a charity event, Roberto met Carla.
She was 35, with a gym-honed body and a smile designed to deceive wealthy and vulnerable men. A luxury real estate agent, she knew exactly how to spot a broken man with money in the bank. Six months of courtship, a discreet marriage. Carla Mendonça became Carla Almeida. Lorena was 7 years old and prayed every night for a new mother. What she got was a viper in high heels.
Carla never hit Lorena in front of Roberto. She was too clever. In front of him, she was all sweetness and light. "Hello, my love," she would call to Lorena in a honeyed voice, but her eyes were ice. When Roberto left, the mask slipped. "Don't call me Mom," Carla would hiss. "Your mother died. And you know why? Because you gave her too much trouble." Cancer comes from stress. You killed her.
Lorena was eight years old when she heard that. She cried so much she vomited. Carla didn't want a stepdaughter. She wanted the bank account, the house, the cars. Lorena was just an obstacle. So Carla made sure to make Lorena's life a calculated hell. Breakfast, lunch, dinner; Lorena ate alone. School; the chauffeur took her to and from school.
Carla never went to a parent-teacher meeting. When the teacher called asking why Lorena was getting low grades, Carla said, "She's lazy, she always has been." And hung up. The truth is, Lorena could barely concentrate. Her back hurt so much she couldn't sit up straight. In class, she sat sideways in her chair. The other children laughed. She bit her lip to keep from crying.
It all started eight months ago. It was a Saturday. Roberto was in São Paulo closing a deal. Lorena was playing in the living room, putting together a jigsaw puzzle. She was happy because she had finished all her homework by herself. “Carla, look,” she said, showing her notebook. “I finished everything.” Carla was on her phone, typing furiously. “Great, now disappear.” “But don’t you want to see? The teacher said that…” “I said disappear!” Carla stood up, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you understand Portuguese?” “Sorry, I just…” “Get out of my sight!”
