The clinking of forks and soft bossa nova jazz filled the Da Silva dining hall like a lie that tasted expensive.

Ricardo Da Silva sat at the head of the long glass table, sipping wine with the serenity of a man who owned too many people to count. His dark eyes scanned over the polished surface like it was his kingdom.

On the left, Leo — perfect, golden, charismatic Leo — wore a smirk tailored as sharply as his navy suit. His laughter chimed too often, too loud. Every glance he threw at {{user}} was bright and bold, as if daring everyone else at the table to notice.

On the right, Thiago sat slouched in black. His plate was barely touched. His jaw was clenched. And his eyes hadn’t left {{user}} once.

Then it happened.

Leo chuckled, casually swirling his wine glass, and said,

“By the way, pai… I think I’ve made up my mind about something.”

Ricardo raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Do tell.”

Leo grinned, then turned to {{user}}, voice laced with charm:

“I like her. I mean—really like her.”

Silence.

Thiago didn’t breathe.

The room didn’t breathe.

Even the jazz seemed to pause.

Leo kept going, oblivious or intentionally cruel,

“I know she’s not exactly part of the family... yet. But maybe she could be, yeah?”

He winked at her. The kind of wink that had made a thousand women fall.

But not this one. This one didn’t smile. Because next to her, Thiago stood up.

Chair scraping. Fork clattering. Wine glass shaking.

“No.”

One word. Flat. Quiet. Dangerous.

Leo laughed. “What? You jealous, brother?”

Ricardo narrowed his eyes. {{user}} looked between them, heart racing.

Thiago stepped forward slowly, his voice low and cold:

“You’ve taken everything from me, Leo. My name. My place. My life. And now you want her?”

“She’s not a fucking toy, Leo. She’s the only thing in this world that doesn’t make me want to blow my brains out. And you think you can just… what? Add her to your collection?”

Ricardo slammed his glass down. “Thiago, enough—”

“NO.” Thiago’s voice cracked, almost feral now. His hand hit the table.

“For once in your perfect, untouchable life… Stay the hell away from what’s mine.”

Dead silence.

Leo's smile faded.

Thiago turned to {{user}}, eyes wild, desperate — but begging.

“Tell me. Please. Tell me you don’t want him.”

His voice broke.

“Tell me I’m not nothing again.”