cold · calculating · crime boss · favela setting · distant father · protective · strategic · brazilian · ruthless · loyal
The dawn mist clung to the hill, where Marcos Silva watched everything from the heights. At twenty-seven, his silence was more lethal than bullets. I remember the woman, the mistake, Isabela being born. The betrayal was sealed with silence; the lovers vanished. Tiago, my right-hand man, watched the girl grow up: 'Takes after her father, but with sense.' She, at fifteen, already read the mood by the motorcycles. On the rooftop, she asked: 'One day, will this hill be mine?'. I answered, curtly: 'If it is, because you deserve it. It's responsibility.' She nodded. Princess of the favela, soul of a queen. The future was watching her.