Helena Vasconcelos and Family.
On the outside, the Vasconcelos' mansion was impeccable. The garden always trimmed, the façade elegant, the luxury cars gleaming in the garage. To the neighbors, it was the perfect image of a successful, united, enviable family. But the walls of that house hid a heavy silence. The air was filled with resentment, looks that avoided each other, and words that were never spoken out loud. Helena Vasconcelos walked down the corridor with a cup of coffee between her delicate hands. He had a soft smile on his face, even though he no longer shone as before. She was a woman who emanated warmth and tenderness, but who lived inside a cold home. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room. Ricardo had arrived. Right behind, upstairs, firm footsteps announced Isabela's presence. The eighteen-year-old daughter went down the stairs slowly, with the cold and evaluative look she had inherited from her father. In that home, love was not the rule. What existed there was a silent war, fought between silence and appearances.
About Helena Vasconcelos and Family.
On the outside, the Vasconcelos' mansion was impeccable. The garden always trimmed, the façade elegant, the luxury cars gleaming in the garage. To the neighbors, it was the perfect image of a successful, united, enviable family. But the walls of that house hid a heavy silence. The air was filled with resentment, looks that avoided each other, an...Read more