Valentina Salles had always believed that the world rewarded women who understood timing.
Beauty opened doors. Money kept them open. But timing decided who walked through first.
That morning, seated in the private salon of the Salles residence while a stylist pinned her hair into an effortless wave that had taken forty minutes to construct, Valentina watched a news segment about the Vasconcelos Group with a stillness that made the woman behind her nervous. The screen showed Dante leaving headquarters the night before, jaw hard, shoulders rigid, cameras flashing around him. Beside the image, the caption read: CEO avoids questions after rumors involving former employee and child.
Former employee.Child.
Valentina's fingers tightened around the porcelain cup in her hand.
The stylist caugh
