Chapter 3
The message continued to glow on Larissa's cell phone screen.
"Now he needs to know who his father really was."
I read that sentence several times.
But the more I looked, the less I understood.
My father.
A simple word.
A word that, for me, has always had only one meaning.
Someone I barely remembered.
My father left when I was still little. My mother always said that he had chosen to follow a different path and that I shouldn't carry that absence as a burden.
I learned to grow up without asking questions.
Because some answers hurt more than silence.
But at that moment, for the first time, I felt that perhaps my mother didn't know the whole truth either.
— Larissa, who sent this message? — I asked.
She was holding her cell phone tightly.
Her eyes were filled with tears.
- I don't know.
- You know.
She remained silent.
And that silence answered more than any words could.
Helena realized.
Larissa, if you know anything, now is the time to tell.
She took a deep breath.
I promised I would never speak.
My heart ached.
— Who did you promise that to?
She looked at the door of the room.
As if he were afraid someone might be listening.
— For Gabriel's father.
Those words made the world seem to stop.
I took a step back.
- My father?
Larissa closed her eyes.
I never met him personally. But my father did.
The confusion inside my head grew stronger with each passing second.
— Your father?
She nodded.
My father worked at this school for many years.
Director Marcelo changed the expression.
I perceived.
He knew something.
"What did my father have to do with this school?" I asked.
No one responded immediately.
And at that moment I felt that same sensation as before.
The feeling of being the last to discover one's own history.
Helena walked to the window.
For a few seconds, he stared at the empty courtyard.
Gabriel, there are people who spend their entire lives trying to erase certain stories.
She turned to me.
But some stories leave a mark.
I didn't want to hear any more mysterious phrases.
I needed answers.
I have a right to know.
My voice came out firmer.
All my life I thought my father simply left. Now I find out that maybe he left something behind and that you all know more than I do.
Helena remained silent.
Then he opened the folder again.
This time, she took out an old envelope.
The paper had yellowed with age.
On the front there was only one word written by hand:
"Gabriel."
My hands grew cold.
Where did you get that?
Helena handed me the envelope.
It was stored in the university's old archives.
I looked at the lyrics.
I had never seen that writing before.
But there was something strange.
A feeling that's hard to explain.
It was as if that message had been waiting for me for years.
I opened the envelope slowly.
Inside there was a single leaf.
Few words.
But they were enough to change everything.
"If my son ever finds out the truth, it means they failed to hide the project."
I stopped breathing for a few seconds.
Project.
The same word that appeared in the documents.
The same word that was linked to my selection.
I continued reading.
"Gabriel, never let anyone tell you that you got where you are by chance. What you created wasn't born from competition. It was born from necessity. And someone will always be afraid of those who can transform difficulty into knowledge."
My hands started to tremble.
It wasn't just a message.
It was a part of my father that I had never known.
"Is there anything else?" I asked.
Helena lowered her gaze.
- Yes.
She pointed to the back of the sheet.
I will turn the paper over.
There was a second message.
But this time, it wasn't a phrase of encouragement.
It was a warning.
"Don't trust everyone who is trying to protect you."
My heart raced.
I looked at Helena.
Then for Marcelo.
Then to Larissa.
Because, suddenly, that sentence seemed to include all of them.
"Who wrote this?" I asked.
Helena took a while to reply.
— Your father.
The room became completely silent.
I wanted to ask a thousand things.
Why did my father write that?
Why did he disappear?
Why did that project need to be hidden?
But before I could speak, the director Marcelo received a call.
He answered.
He remained silent for a few seconds.
Then her face changed.
- He is sure?
The person on the other end responded with something.
Marcelo looked at me.
And I knew that connection had something to do with me.
"What happened?" I asked.
He slowly turned it off.
They found an old file in the school's system.
Helena approached.
Which file?
Marcelo swallowed hard.
— A record from twenty years ago.
He looked directly at me.
— Your father's name appears on it.
I felt a weight on my chest.
But before I could ask anything, Marcelo added:
— And he doesn't appear as a student, teacher, or employee.
He paused.
His expression became even more serious.
Gabriel... your father was originally responsible for creating this project.
I stood motionless.
But the next sentence was even worse.
Because she revealed something that no one in that room seemed prepared to say:
— And the document shows that he didn't abandon you.
Marcelo took a deep breath.
He disappeared after trying to report someone inside this school.
At that moment, my cell phone vibrated.
A new message had arrived.
It was from the same unknown number.
I opened it.
May you like
And there was only one sentence:
"Now that you know who your father was, find out who made him disappear."
