MY MOTHER DEPOSITED HALF A MILLION REAIS FOR ME EVERY MONTH.

MY MOTHER DEPOSITED HALF A MILLION REAIS FOR ME EVERY MONTH
But I drank tap water to trick my hunger in the dormitory in São Paulo…
Until the day my grandfather appeared and asked a question that made my mother turn pale.

I was standing in line to get the last free meal at the cafeteria of Colégio São Gabriel, in Morumbi, when I came face to face with the principal accompanied by an inspection group from the São Paulo Department of Education.

It was raining heavily that day.

The smell of fried coxinha, breaded chicken, and hot cheese bread spread through the entire cafeteria, making my empty stomach hurt even more.

But on my tray…

there was only a bowl of thin free chicken soup and a glass of water.

The principal frowned when she looked at my food.

— Aren’t you going to buy anything else?

I gripped the old tray tightly.

— I don’t have any money.

The entire cafeteria seemed to fall silent.

Some students turned to look at me.

Others laughed under their breath.

Because at São Gabriel, everyone knew I was the daughter of the Albuquerque family — one of the richest families in Brazil, owners of a huge chain of luxury hotels in São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, Gramado, and several capitals across the country.

That night, when I returned to the girls’ dormitory, my phone started vibrating nonstop.

It was my mother.

As soon as I answered, her thin, irritated voice exploded from the other end of the line.

— Helena Albuquerque, you’re becoming an excellent actress, aren’t you?

— Why did you have to pretend to be poor in front of the school inspectors?

— Do you want the whole city laughing in my face?

I sat silently on the edge of the bunk bed.

The old dormitory fan spun on the ceiling, making a tired noise.

— Mom… I wasn’t pretending. I really don’t have any money.

— I deposit five hundred thousand reais for you every month! What more do you want?

I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

It was true.

Every month, five hundred thousand reais went into an account under my name.

But that money was locked inside the Albuquerque family trust fund.

I could only use it when I turned twenty-five.

And I…

was only sixteen.

I took a deep breath before speaking, my voice trembling.

— You know I can’t touch that money…

— Then learn to wait! — she interrupted me immediately. — You are the daughter of wealthy people. You need to learn how to endure a little difficulty so you don’t become a spoiled, useless girl.

I laughed.

A dry laugh, so strange that even I was startled by it.

My cousin Isabela changed designer handbags twice a month.

Meanwhile, Davi — the nephew my mother raised as her “son” — had an unlimited black card to spend on whatever he wanted.

Only I…

her biological daughter…

had to drink tap water every night so I wouldn’t faint from hunger.

My mother noticed my silence and became even more irritated.

— Helena, stop with this victim act.

— What I hate most is a woman who pretends to be weak just to get pity from others.

— Ever since you were little, you’ve had your grandmother’s face.

My chest tightened.

My grandmother was the most forbidden subject inside the Albuquerque family.

She had never accepted that my mother married my father, because my mother came from a poor family in the south zone of São Paulo.

After I was born, my parents almost separated because of the fights between my mother and my grandmother.

Since then…

it felt as if my mother had started hating me too.

She hung up the phone.

A few seconds later, I received a transfer receipt.

Another half million reais sent to the fund I could not touch.

Underneath it came the message:

[There. I deposited money for you again.]
[Now stop embarrassing our family.]

I stared at the screen for a long time.

Then I gathered the courage to type:

[Mom, can you give me a little cash? Just for food.]

Not even three seconds passed before she called me again.

— Have you completely lost your shame, Helena?

— Half a million a month still isn’t enough?

— Where did you learn to be so greedy?

My voice came out shaky.

— Mom… I’m very hungry…

— Today I only ate a thin soup…

— I don’t want to keep drinking tap water every night…

For two seconds, there was silence on the other end.

I thought maybe she would feel sorry for me.

But she let out a cold laugh.

— Are you blaming me?

— Who do you think I put up with this family for?

— If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even have the right to use the Albuquerque surname.

— Don’t be ungrateful.

I gripped the phone so hard my fingers turned white.

And at that moment…

I truly understood.

My mother had never forgotten everything she suffered because of my grandmother.

And she poured all the resentment she still carried onto me.

That night, once again, I slept with only tap water in my stomach.

I was leaning over the sink in the dormitory bathroom when my roommate walked in.

She stopped, startled.

— My God, Helena… water again for dinner?

I nodded.

She stared at me for a few seconds before speaking quietly:

— But your cousin keeps saying your family is filthy rich…

I smiled bitterly.

— Not every father and mother know how to love their own child.

She still had not answered when the dormitory door flew open.

Davi came in.

He was wearing the new uniform of the basketball team from the international school where he studied, along with an extremely expensive watch I had already seen in a shop window at Shopping Cidade Jardim.

In his hands, he carried a mango mousse pie bought from a famous bakery in Jardins.

But I was allergic to mango.

He smiled and brought the box closer to me.

— I heard you’re almost dying of hunger, so I brought you dessert.

I didn’t touch the pie.

His smile disappeared.

— Are you refusing it?

— I’m allergic to mango.

— What nonsense. Aunt Clarissa said you only like making drama so people will pity you.

I slowly stood up.

— Take that away, Davi.

— I don’t want to.

In the next second…

he crushed the pie with his hands and threw all of it on top of me.

The yellow cream ran down my hair, my face, and my uniform.

The entire dormitory fell silent.

Davi stepped closer and smirked.

— Do you really think you’re the little princess of the Albuquerque family?

— In Aunt Clarissa’s eyes, you’re worth less than her dog at the Morumbi mansion.

Smack.

My fist hit his face.

Everything turned into chaos.

Fifteen minutes later, we were both in the coordination office.

Davi’s lip was cut.

My arms were covered in scratches.

But when my mother arrived…

she didn’t even ask what had happened.

Smack.

She slapped me in front of the principal, the vice principal, and the teachers.

— Ungrateful girl!

— You hit your brother?

I stood frozen.

Half of my face burned.

The vice principal tried to interfere, but my mother pointed her finger at me.

— Ever since she was little, she’s been jealous of Davi.

— She always wanted to take everything from him.

— Exactly like her grandmother. The same rotten blood.

I looked at the woman standing before me.

An elegant woman, covered in diamonds, looking as if she had just stepped out of a luxury magazine.

But she looked at me…

as if I were trash.

Suddenly, I laughed.

Then I looked straight into her eyes.

— If I could choose…

— I would rather be an orphan than be your daughter.

The entire room went silent.

My mother’s hand froze in the air.

Even Davi was speechless.

She trembled with rage.

— What did you say?

My eyes burned, but I kept looking at her.

— You never believed me.

— You gave everything to everyone else…

— while I lived like a beggar inside my own family.

— Mom…

— I’m so hungry.

My voice broke on the last word.

The air in the room became heavy.

And exactly at that moment…

the coordination office door opened forcefully.

An elderly man, dressed in an impeccable black suit, walked in quickly.

Behind him came three lawyers and the personal secretary of the Albuquerque family.

As soon as my mother saw him…

she turned pale.

Because the person who had just entered…

was my grandfather — Eduardo Albuquerque, the true head of the entire Albuquerque Group.

And the first thing he said when he saw the red slap mark on my face silenced everyone.

— Who gave anyone the right to lay a hand on my only heiress?

PART 2

The coordination office went silent.

It was as if even the rain outside had stopped after my grandfather, Eduardo Albuquerque, spoke those words.

My mother turned pale.

Davi froze in place.

The principal and the teachers stood up quickly, as if someone far too important had just entered the room.

My grandfather walked slowly toward me.

For the first time in many years…

someone looked at me as if I mattered.

Not like a burden.

Not like an embarrassment.

But like a granddaughter.

He stopped in front of me and carefully touched my marked face.

His expression immediately darkened.

— Who did this?

My heart pounded hard.

I didn’t know why, but in that moment…

I wanted to cry.

Not because of the pain.

But because, for the first time, someone had asked if I had been hurt.

Before I could answer, my mother spoke quickly:

— Father, this was a misunderstanding. The children fought, it was only—

— Be quiet.

My grandfather’s voice was calm.

But it was enough to make my mother turn even paler.

He turned his face toward Davi.

— Are you the boy who has been using the Albuquerque surname for years to spend the family’s money?

Davi swallowed hard.

— G-grandfather…

— I am not your grandfather.

His direct answer fell over the room like a bucket of ice water.

The pride on Davi’s face slowly disappeared.

One of the lawyers approached and handed my grandfather a thick folder.

He opened it silently in front of everyone.

Then he looked at my mother with a coldness I had never seen before.

— Clarissa… would you like to explain why my granddaughter spent months without eating properly while the nephew you raised as your son used the family’s corporate black card?

The color drained from my mother’s lips.

— Father… that isn’t true…

My grandfather placed a receipt on the table.

— Three hundred thousand reais in one week on purchases for Davi at Shopping Cidade Jardim.

He placed down another document.

— One hundred and eighty thousand reais on singing lessons, tennis classes, and a personal trainer.

Then another.

— Almost one million reais on his birthday party in Angra dos Reis last month.

All the teachers remained silent.

I felt my whole body stiffen.

I had no idea my grandfather knew everything.

My mother fell to her knees.

— Father… please… listen to me first…

But he did not look at her.

He looked at me.

And for the first time in my entire life…

the eyes of someone in my family softened when they met mine.

— Why didn’t you tell me?

I smiled bitterly, trembling.

— Because I thought… you didn’t care either.

Something seemed to break on his face when he heard that.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, their edges were red.

— I was wrong.

His voice came out heavy.

— I trusted too much that your parents were taking care of you.

A tear slipped down my face.

I lowered my head quickly to wipe it away.

I didn’t want to cry in front of anyone.

I didn’t want to look weak.

But suddenly, I felt a warm hand on my head.

It was my grandfather.

— You will never sleep hungry again.

Everything I had been holding in for years collapsed in that moment.

I began sobbing in front of the principal, the teachers, my mother, and Davi.

And for the first time in a very long time…

someone hugged me.

Tightly.

As if he were afraid of losing me.

The next day, the news spread through all of Colégio São Gabriel.

My grandfather personally came to pick me up in a black limousine from the Albuquerque Group.

When I got out in front of the school, almost every student looked.

Soon after, the news came that my grandfather had completely cut off Davi’s access to every family card.

He was also removed from the beneficiary list of the Albuquerque Foundation.

I heard he caused a scandal at the Morumbi mansion.

He broke a very expensive vase, cried, and screamed through the hallways.

But no one ran to protect him anymore.

My mother…

stayed in her room for three days without coming out.

According to the employees, she tried several times to speak with my grandfather, but he did not open the door for her.

After class that day, the principal called me in.

When I entered her office, she immediately stood up.

— Helena… we want to apologize.

I was surprised.

She took a deep breath.

— For some time, we noticed you were losing weight. But because of your records and your family background… we thought it was a personal choice.

I smiled in silence.

I had nothing to say.

Sometimes, even when you scream the truth…

if you come from a rich family, people still think it is impossible for you to be suffering.

The principal handed me a meal card.

Unlimited access to the cafeteria.

She also included school supplies, medical follow-up, and psychological support.

I let out a low laugh, barely believing it.

Finally…

I would no longer have to drink tap water just to fall asleep.

A week later, my grandfather took me to live in his penthouse in Itaim Bibi.

But what I liked most about that place…

was not the size of the room.

It was not the huge bed.

It was not the closet full of new clothes.

It was the kitchen.

Because on my first night there…

there was a hot dinner waiting for me.

I will never forget that night.

I sat silently, holding the spoon with a trembling hand.

My grandfather noticed.

— What is it, my child?

I did not answer right away.

I kept looking at the food in front of me.

White rice.

Beans.

Steak with onions.

Farofa.

Salad.

A small bowl of hot broth.

Simple food.

But to me…

it looked like a banquet.

— I’m not used to… having food prepared for me.

My grandfather fell silent.

Then he slowly lowered his cutlery.

— Forgive me, my granddaughter.

I almost cried again.

From that day on, my life began to change slowly.

A nutritionist started taking care of my health.

I had private tutors.

I had therapy.

And for the first time…

someone asked me every day whether I had eaten.

Three months after I moved in with my grandfather, he called me to the main hall of the Albuquerque mansion in Morumbi.

When I arrived, I found my mother and father there.

My mother was thinner.

Her eyes were swollen, as if she had cried through entire nights.

I stopped in front of them in silence.

My father was the first to speak.

— Helena… my daughter…

His voice was low.

Suddenly, I remembered all the times he had seen me crying and chosen to stay silent.

All the nights he had heard my mother humiliate me and did nothing.

Sometimes, a silent father hurts more than a cruel mother.

My mother approached, trembling.

— Helena… forgive me.

I said nothing.

She continued crying.

— I didn’t realize… I was hurting you like this.

I smiled bitterly.

Didn’t realize?

Or chose not to see?

I took a deep breath.

— Mom… when I said I was hungry… did you believe me?

My mother collapsed into tears.

And there, for the first time, I saw that perhaps she truly was sorry.

But regret…

does not erase a scar in a single day.

I took a step back.

— I forgive you.

Her eyes turned red.

— Really?

I nodded.

— But that doesn’t mean we’re going back to the way things were before.

Her body seemed to lose its strength.

I did not look back.

Because finally…

I was tired of chasing love from someone who never knew how to love me.

One year later, I returned to Colégio São Gabriel as a student representative of the Albuquerque Foundation.

We created a free food center for scholarship students and vulnerable students.

No humiliation.

No exposure.

No cruel questions.

No child should sleep hungry.

As I cut the ribbon at the opening ceremony, I saw a thin, shy student standing near the entrance, looking at the food as if she were afraid to touch it.

Exactly like I used to do.

I smiled at her.

— You can eat. It’s all free.

Her eyes filled with tears.

At that moment…

I understood something I had never understood before.

Even if I had not grown up being loved the right way…

I could still choose not to pass my pain on to someone else.

That night, as I looked at the lights of São Paulo from the balcony of my grandfather’s penthouse, I felt someone hug me from behind.

It was him.

— What are you thinking about?

I smiled as I looked at the city.

— I’m thinking that, for a long time, I thought it was normal to live hungry.

He hugged me tighter.

— That will never happen again.

And for the first time in my life…

I believed it.