The call from Mateo had already kept Luiz awake most of the night. By the time dawn broke, his head felt heavy, his chest full of dread.
The bus ride back home was long and punishing. Dust seeped through the windows, clinging to his clothes, stinging his throat. He tried to close his eyes, but every time he did, the memory of Mateo's voice echoed in his skull: They suspended me. They called us trash.
When Luiz finally stepped into the old house, he found Mateo sitting on a stool, his school uniform torn, his knuckles split raw. The boy looked smaller than ever—yet his eyes burned with fury.
"What happened?" Luiz asked, though he already knew.
"They called you a bastard," Mateo spat. "Said our family's cursed. Said our mother was a whore. I punched the fucker in the face."
Luiz's jaw clenched. A wave of pride, shame, and exhaustion hit him all at once. "And now you're suspended."
Mateo dropped his gaze. "Yeah."
Before Luiz could say more, the front door slammed open.
"Well, well. Look who's back," came a voice sharp as glass.
Aunt Livia strutted in, dripping in expensive perfume that didn't belong in a house like this. Behind her came Uncle Cyrus, cane tapping, his smirk already ready for battle.
"This where you animals live now?" Cyrus said, scanning the cracked walls with disgust. "No wonder you're a disgrace. Fucking rats crawling in dirt."
Mateo stood, fists clenched. "Get out."
Cyrus barked a laugh. "Careful, boy. Last I checked, you eat because of the Valentine name. You're nothing without us."
Luiz moved fast, stepping between them. His voice was low, steady. "We didn't ask you to come. You want to insult someone? Fine. Aim it at me. Leave him out of it."
Livia's lips curled in a sneer. "Oh, Luiz. Always so dramatic. You forget—you wouldn't even be alive if your mother hadn't dumped you like garbage at our gates. She didn't want you. None of us did. You're a fucking mistake wearing the Valentine name like it means something."
The words sliced through Luiz like broken glass. For a second, he couldn't breathe.
"Say that again," he whispered.
"What?" Livia arched a brow. "That your mother was a selfish slut? Or that you're just her bastard spawn?"
Mateo snapped. He lunged at her with a snarl, but Cyrus swung his cane hard, smacking Mateo's arm. The boy howled, stumbling back.
"YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" Luiz roared, shoving Cyrus so hard his fat body slammed against the wall. The cane clattered to the floor.
For the first time in years, Uncle Cyrus looked stunned. His face twisted in rage, spit flying. "You little bastard! I'll beat you bloody!"
He lunged, fists clumsy but heavy. Luiz ducked the first swing, fury pounding in his ears. He wanted to hit back, to destroy, to finally make them choke on their poison.
Aunt Livia was screaming, Mateo was cursing, the house shook with chaos. Luiz raised his fist—
—and froze.
Because at the doorway, framed in the light of morning, stood her.
Grandmother Valentine.
Dressed in black silk, diamonds glinting even in the dim room, her stare was enough to make the air turn to ice.
"What the fuck," she said, voice quiet but deadly, "is going on in my family's house?"
The room went silent.
Luiz's hand was still clenched into a fist, trembling inches from Cyrus's jaw. Mateo was panting, arm bruised. Livia smirked, knowing the storm had arrived.
Luiz's stomach dropped.
Because when Grandmother Valentine appeared, punishment always followed. And this time, Luiz knew—it might break him.