The midday wind kicked up dust on the construction site as if the land itself were protesting being tamed. I walked alongside Roman, Eva, and a technical team as we inspected the reinforced foundations of the south wing of the Aurea Project.

Roman spoke little, as usual, but his eyes took everything in. He had a small notebook in which he wrote incessantly. He didn't use cell phones or tablets. He liked the physical, the tangible. "Technology can fail, but paper endures," he said.

"What do you think of this section?" he asked me suddenly, pointing to a newly assembled structure.

I crouched down and touched one of the steel supports. The anchor was fine, but I noticed a slight deviation in the foundation.

"Two centimeters off the north axis," I said.

Daniel snorted.

"That's insignificant."

"Insignificant if it were a gazebo. This is going to be a twelve-story tower," I replied, without looking at Daniel. "In the long run, it can cause uneven settling. Leaks. Structural damage."

Roman looked at me for a second. Then he walked over to the field engineer and whispered something to him. The man nodded, signaled to the workers, and in less than a minute they stopped work in that area.

"Good eye," Roman said, without raising his voice.

Daniel shot me a look full of rage. Eva, on the other hand, smiled.

***

That afternoon, we received an email: we were invited to a private dinner at the Del Valle country house. Only the core project team and a few key partners would be attending. It was a family tradition of Roman's whenever an important milestone was reached.

"It's not optional," Eva added as she handed me the printed invitation.

"Does he live there?"

"Not exactly. He has several residences. But that one in particular... is special. It's where he lived with his late wife."

"And now?"

Eva looked at me with a gaze that said more than it revealed.

"Now it's a place he tends to avoid. I'm not sure why he decided to hold the event there."

***

The country house was on the outskirts of town, surrounded by pine trees and an artificial lake. It was elegant but understated, without excess. The entrance was flanked by rusted iron sculptures and a black wooden gate that creaked when opened.

When I arrived, there were already several cars parked there. A butler greeted me with a serene smile and led me to the inner courtyard, where a large wooden table was set up under an awning of warm lights. Crystal glasses. White tableware. Wine served generously.

Román was standing, talking to an older man I didn't recognize. He was wearing a white shirt, no tie, with his sleeves rolled up.

"Architect Ferrer," he said when he saw me. "Just in time."

I nodded with a discreet smile.

"Thank you for the invitation."

"Wine?"

"Just a little, please."

As I took my glass, I noticed someone watching me from the other end of the garden. A woman with reddish-brown hair pulled back into a high bun, wearing a bottle-green dress that hugged her body like a second skin. Tanned skin. Dark eyes. A sharp smile.

She walked over with the confidence of an actress who knows her stage well.

"Roman, dear," she said, brushing his cheek with her lips. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Camila Nogueira, Isabella Ferrer. Lead architect on Tower Six. Isabella, Camila is... an external collaborator."

"Oh, don't be so modest," she laughed. "I'm a friend of the family. Almost part of the furniture."

"A decorative figure, then," I replied in a neutral tone, taking a sip of wine.

Camila raised an eyebrow.

"And you, dear? How long have you been in Del Valle?"

"Three weeks."

"Wow. You moved in fast. Have you seen all the rooms yet?" she asked in a soft voice, but one laden with innuendo.

"Only the professional ones. The personal ones are not part of my goals, but perhaps you know them well."

Camila narrowed her eyes. Román, for his part, seemed amused by the exchange.

"Camila leads a project with a charitable foundation," Eva interjected, appearing like a lifesaver. "Although lately she's been more involved in internal decisions, hasn't she?"

"It's natural. After so many years close to Román... one wants to contribute," said Camila, taking a seat next to him.

The dinner proceeded with overlapping conversations. I avoided Camila as much as possible, but she kept her eyes on me. Roman watched me from time to time, as if evaluating my reaction.

When dessert was over, he stood up.

"Thank you for coming. Today we are closing the first stage of the Aurea Project with a solid and committed team. Some of you have been here for years. Others, only weeks. But you all have something in common: excellence and vision."

His gaze lingered on me for a second.

"And for this project, vision is the only thing that will guarantee we leave something lasting.

There was soft applause. Camila also applauded, albeit half-heartedly.

When it was over, Román approached me while the others went to get more wine.

"Everything okay with Camila?"

"Perfectly. I love modern art exhibitions. Especially when the sculptures try to speak and fail."

Román let out a brief laugh, which was unusual for him.

"She warned you, right?"

"Not with words. But yes."

"Don't pay too much attention to her. Camila... thinks she's entitled to everything she hasn't been given."

"And you give it to her?"

He tilted his head, thoughtful.

"Sometimes the best way to keep an enemy at bay is to put them in front of the fireplace, but she's not my friend. She's never been part of my inner circle, let alone my family. I think she's delusional, so try to avoid interacting with her.

"And me? Am I an enemy or an ally?"

Román held her gaze for a few seconds.

"I haven't decided that yet."

He gave me a half-smile that I couldn't interpret.

***

Before leaving, I went to the bathroom upstairs. The interior of the house was different from Román's modern style at the company. This space had antique furniture, thick rugs, gold frames, and photos.

On one of the shelves in the hallway, I saw a framed picture: Roman with a young woman, her black hair loose, smiling serenely. She was wearing a white chiffon dress. It looked like a picnic.

The resemblance to me was... disturbing.

His deceased wife.

Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me.

"You look just like her when she was young," said a soft voice.

I turned around. Camila was in the hallway, leaning against the wall.

"Roman is obsessed with the past. Don't take it as a compliment. You're just a mirror."

"Mirrors don't choose what they reflect," I replied. "But they can break if you look at them too much."

"Be careful, Isabella. Not everything that glitters in this family is gold. Sometimes what is served is not wine but poison."

"Thanks for the advice. Although I prefer to taste the wine myself."

I walked away without waiting any longer.

Camila was dangerous. Intelligent and obsessed. A perfect combination for cruelty.

I would have to keep her at a distance and never trust her.

***

When I got to my apartment that night, I couldn't sleep. Too many pieces on the board.

Camila.

Roman.

Benjamin.

Me.

And a buried truth that I hadn't found yet, but I would, I knew it, because snakes may be poisonous, but I was fire and I had come back to burn.