A Case in Red

Chapter 01

Once the reality you live in hits you, you can’t shake it off anymore. Life around you begins to smell putrid, people stop being interesting, and the only thing you want is the chance to untangle yourself from everything that reminds you of the past you came from.

Yes, I know it sounds selfish. After all, we were taught to always remember our roots, where we came from. But I never wanted to remember mine. In fact, I cut my roots the moment I managed to escape them.

I’ve always dreamed of big things, sought the best opportunities, and never let anyone know my background. From an early age, I learned that beauty opens doors, that intelligence makes people admire you, and that poise and positioning command respect. I molded myself to fit the standards of a society I wasn't born into, but chose to enter. I secured a scholarship to the best private school in Rio de Janeiro, chose to major in International Relations, and built a name that everyone knows, but few have access to: Viviane Beltrão. My presence is requested at the finest parties and luxury events. Charities choose me to front their campaigns. Some might look at me and see nothing but a slender body and enchanting beauty; however, I have an edge that makes me better than many women: the wit, shrewdness, and ambition of a fox. After all, I wouldn’t have gotten where I am if I hadn’t perfected myself.

At this exact moment, I face a dilemma in front of the mirror: which dress will I wear to make my mark at the grand opening of the Maison Rubra Hotel, a new branch of one of the largest and most luxurious hotel chains in the world. Of course, I couldn't be left out of this event.

Now, listen: if you are thinking—or have ever thought—about becoming a socialite, you need to know when and where the most renowned parties are happening. You need to build ties with important people, be interesting enough that they want to invite you to a brunch or the next big event. And socializing is what I do best.

I stared at my reflection: my long black hair flowed over my left shoulder, styled with loose waves. The makeup on my face was a perfect transition between elegant and sensual: a cat-eye liner and a stunning red lipstick, capable of catching anyone’s eye. In my hands, two spectacular dresses competed to be the night's choice. The first is a gorgeous strapless mermaid gown with a sweetheart neckline, form-fitting down to the hips. The second is red, long, with a high neck that contrasts with a backless cut that would make even the most well-behaved man want to look twice. I look at Raquel, one of the few true friends I have, with a pleading gaze.

— Please, help me! — I whine a little. — They’re both perfect!

Raquel smiled, a measuring tape draped around her neck and several pins stuck into a small wrist pincushion. Well, of course you didn't imagine Raquel would be just any friend, right? She owns a luxury atelier and is my personal stylist. Whenever I have somewhere to go, she comes to my rescue with her best pieces and dresses me like a Barbie. Without her help, I wouldn't always be named the "best dressed" at every event I attend.

— Look, even I can’t choose between my own dresses — Raquel left the pins on a table and came over to me. — Tell me more about this hotel; I know you’ve already done your research on the owners.

I smirked. She was right. I like to know who I’m dealing with and if they’re worth the attention.

— The owner, darling. The Maison Rubra belongs to none other than Conrad van Dorn. One of the richest men in Europe!

— Wow! I’ve never heard of him, but that last name must be worth millions. — Raquel hung up the black dress and helped me into the red one. — Do you plan on catching his eye?

— My dear, he’s a fifty-three-year-old man. He must have a wife and children, and it’s probably already hard enough for him to split his attention between his million-dollar hotel chain and his family. No, I don’t want his attention. — I took a deep breath as Raquel adjusted the dress to my body.

— Well, the red dress is definitely the better choice. The high neck conveys elegance, modesty, and mystery, but when you turn around... — Raquel stared at my bare back. — A sensual and irresistible marvel. You’ll be the most beautiful woman at the event, as always.

I was simply stunning. I felt proud of myself as I admired my reflection. A woman not just beautiful and intelligent, but breathtaking. A strong, hypnotizing, bewitching presence. I smiled to myself as Raquel approached with a classic pair of black Louboutin stilettos with red soles and a Miu Miu leather clutch. The perfect combination for me to showcase tonight.

— Parfait! — Raquel said, with her beautiful French accent that made me envious and reminded me that she came from a wealthy family in France, while I came from a poor family in Brazil. Raquel always spoke French when she was excited, angry, or sad; in short, whenever any strong emotion hit her. — Ma chère, tu vas faire sensation!

— Keep it down, Raquel, I still don’t speak French. — I tried to hold back an eye-roll; after all, I can’t be rude to one of my only friends, even if she reminds me she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and was literate in three languages while I had to sweat three times as much just to learn formal Portuguese.

— Oh, sorry! — She let out a high-pitched, suppressed giggle and gave the final touches to my dress. — I meant you're going to slay.

— Thank you — I spun around so she could admire her masterpiece. — As always, of course.

— Now go, Vivi, before you’re the latest person at the event!

— Well, darling, I’d like to ask you one last favor... — I held her hands, hoping I didn't sound too opportunistic. — Can you give me a ride? It’ll take too long for an Uber to arrive, you know.

— Of course! What kind of friend would I be if I let you arrive in an Uber at such a chic event? Mon Dieu, I’m so thoughtless!

I breathed a sigh of relief as Raquel looked for her car keys amidst the mess of needles, pins, and threads on her table. I wouldn't tell her that I wanted her to drive me because her car was a Porsche Panamera, and the best I’d get in an Uber would be a Renault Sandero. Since Raquel was a good friend, I knew she wouldn’t deny me a ride; but since I wasn't such a good friend, I wanted to make an impression by arriving in a luxury car.

Of course, you must be wondering if I’m proud of being like this. A slightly envious and opportunistic friend. Perhaps, if I lived a normal life, I wouldn’t need to be this way. I would brag about a trip to Dubai while Raquel showed off her rich, perfect French family, and I wouldn't need her to take me anywhere because I’d have my own luxury car and a private chauffeur.

However, while Raquel was already born into this reality, I am still building mine.