**(DONOVAN)**

The meeting that morning had been one of the most boring, tedious, and unnecessary things I had ever witnessed in my entire life.

Far be it from me to say that being the vice president of Urus was a bad job; in fact, it was incredible to have a friend who trusted me to this extent. The problem was that all the talking, planning (useless, since we had discussed it in previous meetings and the conclusion was always the same), and spreadsheets no longer seemed as important as the life of the girl now at Gavin's house.

From the moment I woke up, I couldn't stop thinking about her. Had she woken up? Taken a bath, eaten something? Her condition was deplorable, and I wanted from the bottom of my heart to help her. I could hardly wait for the clock to take pity on me and announce the end of this ordeal.

When the meeting ended, I politely said goodbye to the men and women in the room and began to gather the paperwork into my briefcase. While everyone left talking among themselves, I took the opportunity to turn on my cell phone, which had remained off to avoid interruptions during the meeting.

"Coffee, Mr. Jones?" a female voice sounded behind me. It was Rebecca, Gavin's secretary, but she worked for me almost full-time.

"No, thank you, Rebecca," I declined politely while finishing storing the documents. "I'm in a bit of a hurry today."

"Was the meeting productive?"

"Well... Let's say we didn't take any steps backward."

She laughed.

"I see. If you change your mind, just let me know."

I nodded in thanks, and her smile grew even wider. She was a pretty girl, with ample attributes contained in business attire, black hair tied in a bun, and fair skin.

Lunchtime tended to be somewhat disorganized. Some employees clocked out and went out to eat, others brought their own food from home and gathered in the cafeteria. Since most of them worked almost the same hours, it was normal for the hallways to become too crowded. That's why I stayed holed up in my office during this period, usually drinking coffee and pondering Urus's next moves. Or listening to and singing Chico Buarque.

Already ready to go, I took a sip from my nearly empty water bottle, discarded it in the trash, and opened the double glass doors of the top-floor meeting room. As I prepared to head to the elevator, I looked at my phone screen. There were three missed calls, all from Gavin.

This was not good.

I pressed the button to wait for the elevator and checked my messages. There was a ten-second WhatsApp audio. I pressed play.

"Donovan, as soon as you hear this, go to Copa d'Or. I had to take her there, it's an emergency. I'll explain as soon as you're here."

The message was short, but the impact I felt was like a punch to the stomach. I sent another audio back to him.

"I'm leaving here now. I'll let you know when I'm close."

The Brazilian headquarters of Urus was in Ipanema, very close to Copa. To get to the hospital would take me less than fifteen minutes, depending on traffic. However, fifteen minutes now seemed like an eternity. I wished I had the power to teleport at any moment.

Inside the elevator, I felt my hands sweating. The night before, Gavin seemed worried about the possibility of the girl trying to kill herself again. I didn't tell him she wouldn't do it because I knew that once you're shocked enough to try, the chances of it happening a second or third time are higher. Statistically speaking, people who commit suicide don't succeed on their first attempt.

Poor Gavin. He must have been terrified, feeling responsible for what happened.

I remember how he reacted to my attempt. Inside the hospital room, properly admitted, I saw him struggling not to explode and scream in frustration. He only knew how to ask one thing: "Why?"

And the answer to that was too complex and long to be discussed at that moment. The conversation came six months later, fueled by cognac and mutual confessions on my balcony.

When I tried to kill myself, I was 26. I had a family that cared about me, friends, money, and independence in general. These things prevented me from trying again, plus therapy, of course.

If this girl had tried again, and in such a short period of time, there were strong suspicions that she, perhaps... Didn't have these things.

The doors opened. Sweaty and tense, I walked quickly to the parking lot. The headlights of my black Audi flashed twice along with a beeping sound when I turned off the alarm.