The smell of fresh coffee drifted through the Holt mansion’s dining room. The long table was set as always: understated flowers at the center, cloth napkins folded to perfection, silverware aligned with meticulous precision.

Frederico was already in his usual seat at the head of the table, reading a printed newspaper as if the world still revolved around ink on paper. Olga, beside him, stirred her tea calmly. Érica adjusted the necklace at her throat, while Felipe spread jam over his toast with