Paulo's forty-eight-hour revelation arrived on a Friday.
He came to the Intendente flat himself, which he'd never done before, and Camila knew when she opened the door and saw his expression — not alarmed, not urgent, but carrying something he wanted to deliver in person — that what he had was significant.
Daniel was at school. She made coffee. They sat at the kitchen table.
"The three Mendes-aligned board members," Paulo said. "I told Leonardo they'd changed in the room. Their questions were different from what we'd prepared for. I spent forty-eight hours on why."
"And?"
He set a photograph on the table. A man she didn't recognise, middle-aged, in a restaurant she recognised immediately: the one near the Chiado where she and Leonardo had gone on their first proper dinner. The table i
