Ricardo Almeida learned to measure the world in numbers: signed contracts, increased land values, endless meetings. But in his own home—an immaculate mansion in the interior of São Paulo—there was one thing he couldn’t quantify: silence. Since Mariana’s repentant departure, that silence had become a permanent guest. She didn’t shout, break things, or demand anything. She simply sat in corners, in hallways, on the unmade bed in his son’s room, reminding Ricardo that, no matter how much money he had, he couldn’t buy what he missed most.

Gabriel was nine years old and had green eyes just like Mariana’s. He used to laugh loudly, run fearlessly through the garden, and invent stories with dolls and animals. Now he played alone near the pool, piling up pebbles as if they were building a wall so no one would see him. Ricardo watched him from the doorway, a knot in his chest he refused to acknowledge. “Two years,” he thought. “Two years like this… that’s enough.” He approached decisively, as if he were going to negotiate a deal.

—Gabriel, come here. We need to talk.

The boy walked slowly, dragging his feet, and sat down beside him without really looking at him. Ricardo stroked his hair awkwardly, like someone trying to recall an old gesture.

—You know I love you, right?

Gabriel barely nodded, speechless.

—And your mom… your mom always wanted us to be happy. That’s why I’ve decided something. You’re going to have a new mom.

The boy remained still. The pebbles crumbled between his fingers.

—What do you mean, a new mom?

Ricardo took a deep breath, holding his voice as he did at the company.

—Today you’re going to meet five women. They’re kind, educated, and successful. And you’re going to decide which one you want to be your mother.

Gabriel’s face paled, as if the air had grown heavy.

—I don’t want to meet anyone. I already had a mother.

—Gabriel, it’s not a matter of wanting. It’s a matter of needing. This house needs a woman.

And then the boy looked at him, at last, with a rage that seemed too great for his age.

“I don’t need a fake mom!” I shouted. “Have you forgotten about her? Have you already forgotten about my mom?”

The words cut Ricardo like a knife. He was going to respond, to impose his will, to order… but Gabriel stood up and walked away toward the back of the garden, where the shadows of the trees met over a stream. Ricardo followed him and took his arm.

—You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay and you’re going to meet them.

“Let me go!” Gabriel broke free with unexpected force. “A real father doesn’t force his son to choose a fake mother.”

And he ran off, disappearing into the bushes, just as the sound of luxury cars approached the main entrance. Ricardo clenched his jaw. He couldn’t fail today. He couldn’t let chaos take over his plan. But something in the air already felt different, like a taut thread about to snap.

In the kitchen, Helena Santos was cleaning the living room windows when she saw the parade of cars parking in front of the mansion: a black BMW, a white Mercedes, a silver Audi. Carmen, the housekeeper, rushed in with a serious expression.

—Helena… the gentleman said that today you should stay in the service area. No going anywhere in the house.

“What’s wrong?” Helena asked, and her heart already suspected something.

Carmen lowered her voice.

—He brought some women for Gabriel to meet. He wants to… choose a wife. Or something like that.

Helena felt a pang in her chest. In six months working there, she had seen many things: luxury, rules, doors that closed softly to conceal arguments. But she had also seen the boy: alone, quiet, with a sadness that didn’t match his age. And the strangest thing was that Gabriel would approach her as if her presence gave him a little breath. Sometimes he would find her in the hallway and tell her absurd stories to make her smile; sometimes he would just sit nearby, without speaking, as if the silence with her hurt less.

—And Gabriel? —Helena asked.

—He escaped. He’s hiding in the garden. The boss is furious.

Carmen took her by the arm.

“Don’t get involved, Helena. If he finds out you’re talking to the boy, he’ll kick you out.”

But Helena was already looking out the window, watching five women get out of the cars, perfect as magazine covers. High heels, expensive dresses, salon-styled hair. Rehearsed smiles. And in the middle of it all, a nine-year-old boy they wanted to make a judge in a mothers’ contest.

Helena slipped out the back door before she could think twice. The garden was enormous. She crossed the lawn, passed the pool area, and continued toward the corner where the stream could be heard babbling beneath a small wooden bridge. There she found him: Gabriel huddled under the bridge, hugging his knees, his head buried in the sand.

“Gabriel…” Helena said gently, sitting down beside him, not caring about getting her uniform dirty. “Darling, are you alright?”

The boy raised his head, frightened at first. But when he saw her, his body relaxed a little.

—Aunt Helena… I don’t want to go back.

—Tell me what happened.

Gabriel swallowed hard. His eyes were shining, not just from tears, but from that mixture of fear and pride that children sometimes have when they feel that no one understands them.

—My dad wants me to choose a new mom from among five women. Like I’m picking an ice cream cone.

Helena felt like crying, but she held it back.

—And what do you want?

“I already had a mother. Her name was Mariana. She truly loved me. Those women… they don’t even know who I am. They just want my father’s money.”

Helena took his hand. It was cold.

“Sometimes adults do silly things when they’re broken inside,” she whispered. “Your dad is suffering too, Gabriel. It’s just… he’s not good at hiding it.”

Gabriel pressed his lips together.

“He took down my mom’s pictures. He said it was time to move on. But I don’t want to move on without her.”

Helena took a deep breath.

—Your mother didn’t leave you. She lives on in what you remember, in what she taught you, in how you love. No one can take that away.

Gabriel stared at her, as if searching for something real.

“I talk to her every night,” he confessed. “I tell her about my day. And yesterday… she told me that when the time comes to choose someone to take care of me, my heart will know.”

Helena felt a chill.

—And what does your heart tell you?

Gabriel took a few seconds, as if the words were a leap.

—That you are the only person in this house who truly loves me.

At that moment, Ricardo’s voice echoed through the garden, getting closer and closer.

—Gabriel! Where are you?

The boy shrank back. Helena stood up abruptly, with a determination she didn’t know where it came from.

—Stay here. I’ll talk to your dad.

—No, aunt! He’s going to kick you out.

Helena crouched down in front of him.

—I won’t let them hurt you, Gabriel. I promise.

When Helena arrived at the pool area, Ricardo was red-faced with fury. The five women watched as if it were some kind of entertainment. One of them, wearing a blue dress, let out a sneer.

—What a drama. Spoiled children.

Helena stood firm.

—It’s not a whim. It’s pain.

Ricardo saw her and hardened his heart.

—What are you doing here? I told you to stay in the kitchen.

“The boy is scared, sir,” she replied, looking straight at him. “He’s nine years old. He still misses his mother. You can’t force him.”

Ricardo took a threatening step.

—He will obey. I am his father.

“Being a father isn’t just about giving orders,” Helena said, and even she was surprised by her own courage. “He needs love, not pressure.”

One of the women murmured:

—An employee giving lessons… unbelievable.

Ricardo gritted his teeth.

—You’re fired, Helena. Right now.

The air froze. And then a small, broken voice cut through the silence.

—Don’t fire her!

Gabriel came running up, his face red, and clung to Helena’s uniform skirt as if it were his lifeline.

“She’s the only one who understands me in this house,” she sobbed. “If I have to choose… I’ve already chosen. I choose her to be my mom!”

The five women were speechless. Ricardo turned pale. Helena felt the floor disappear beneath her feet.

“What did you say?” roared Ricardo.

Gabriel raised his chin, trembling but firm.

“I choose her! Because she knows what I like, she knows I’m afraid of the dark, she knows I have nightmares. Do you know anything about me? No. You only know my dad is rich.”

Ricardo tried to assert his authority, but the more he shouted, the more everything fell apart. The women, uncomfortable, began to leave with excuses. In minutes, the luxurious parade vanished through the gate, leaving behind an even colder mansion.

Ricardo stared at his son as if he didn’t recognize him.

—Look what you did. You scared them all away.

“I didn’t scare them away,” Gabriel said tearfully. “They left because they didn’t care about me.”

And then Ricardo, blinded by pride and fear, insisted on the only thing he knew: control. He wanted to separate the child from Helena, he wanted to punish, he wanted to expel the problem as if it were an accounting error.

—Helena, pack your things and leave today!

Gabriel fell into a state of despair that Carmen recognized instantly. It wasn’t a tantrum. It was panic. The boy was breathing heavily, trembling, clinging to Helena as if to a promise.

“Sir, please,” Carmen pleaded. “Look at the child…”

But Ricardo, still hurt by his own failure, threw her out anyway. And Helena left heartbroken, leaving behind a child who looked at her as if he were being abandoned for the second time.

The following days were a desert. Gabriel stopped eating almost everything. He didn’t speak. Carmen carried trays up and brought down untouched plates. Ricardo hid behind the computer, repeating to himself that it was “just a phase,” that the boy “would grow out of it,” that Helena “had manipulated him.” And then came the call from Verónica, the woman in the blue dress, with a voice as sweet as poison: she sowed doubts, fed his pride, promised quick solutions. Ricardo, confused, agreed to let them come back. He thought that, without Helena, Gabriel “would get used to it.”

But when they returned with expensive gifts, Gabriel only asked in a subdued voice:

—Where is Aunt Helena?

And when Ricardo told him that he would not return, the boy looked at him as if the last thread of hope had been ripped away.

Everything truly fell apart a week later when Gabriel fainted from sheer weakness and sadness. The doctor, Dr. Henrique, spoke frankly with Ricardo: it wasn’t just a simple tantrum; the boy was sinking. He needed real care, presence, constant love. And one question stuck with Ricardo like a truth he couldn’t ignore:

—Did that woman really manipulate you… or did you just not like someone else taking better care of you than you did?

Ricardo didn’t know how to answer. That night, Verónica showed up with suitcases, determined to settle in as if the house already belonged to her. She went up to Gabriel’s room and tried to assert her authority with cold words. The boy, exhausted, asked her the question that disarmed all the masks:

—Why does he say he cares about me? What does he know about me?

Verónica didn’t know. And when Gabriel defended Helena with what little strength he had left, Verónica lost control and slapped him. It wasn’t a brutal blow, but it was enough to shatter the last thing Ricardo was trying to believe. Gabriel came downstairs crying, his cheek red and his dignity wounded.

—He hit me, Dad. He hit me for defending Aunt Helena.

Ricardo felt a pure rage, different from his anger as a businessman. A father’s rage that awakens late, but awakens nonetheless.

“You’re leaving my house,” he said to Veronica, frozen.

—Ricardo, it was a “little something,” he provoked me…

—You’re leaving. Now.

When the door closed and silence fell again, Ricardo knelt in front of Gabriel.

“Forgive me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I… I wasn’t here when you needed me.”

Gabriel looked at him with tired eyes.

—You were sad too, Dad. But I was just a child.

That phrase was the hardest blow of all.

The next morning, Ricardo asked for Helena’s address and went to find her. The boarding house where she lived was humble, with peeling walls and the smell of stale coffee. Standing at the door of room 305, Ricardo felt ashamed of his mansion, his pride, his blindness.

—What do you want? —Helena asked as she opened the door, not angry, just with a deep sadness.

Ricardo breathed as if he were about to say something impossible.

—I want to apologize. I was wrong about you. I was wrong about my son. Gabriel is unwell… and I… I didn’t know how to take care of him. I need you back. He needs you. And if you agree to come back, promise to respect you as a person, as part of our lives, not as “just an employee.”

Helena froze upon hearing Gabriel’s name. The hardness of her face melted away.

Is he okay?

—No… not entirely. But it can be. With you. With me, if I learn.

Helena remained silent for a long time, looking at her small room, her suitcase, her fragile life. Then, like someone who chooses the path of the heart even though it hurts, she nodded.

—I’m coming back… for Gabriel. Because he doesn’t deserve to be left alone.

When the car pulled into the mansion, Gabriel was at the window, his heart in his throat. And when he saw Helena get out with her suitcase, he ran out as if his legs had suddenly remembered joy. He threw himself into her arms and wept openly, like children do when they finally feel safe.

—I thought you wouldn’t come back…

“I was scared too,” Helena said, squeezing him. “But here I am.”

Ricardo looked at them and understood something he had never wanted to accept: Helena wasn’t there to erase Mariana. She was there to uphold what Mariana had left behind: love, memories, care. That night, for the first time in two years, Ricardo went out with his son and they looked at photos of Mariana without the pain overwhelming them. They spoke of her as a love that lives on in what they were and in what they could still build together.

“If some girl named Helena ever becomes my real mom,” Gabriel said with a sweet seriousness, “Mariana will still be my first mom. We won’t replace her. She’s just one of them.”

Helena smiled through her tears.

—Exactly. True love doesn’t take away. It multiplies.

Ricardo took Gabriel’s hand and, with the other, touched Helena’s hand as if asking permission from fate.

“We’re going to do this right,” he promised. “No rush, no pride, no fear. We’re going to be a family… for real.”

Gabriel took a deep breath, as if his chest finally had some space.

“Then I no longer have to choose between memories and the future,” she whispered. “I can love my mom in heaven… and my mom here.”

Helena kissed him on the forehead.

—Your heart is wiser than ours.

And in that house, which had been a museum of luxury and sadness, the most precious sounds were heard again: small laughter in the hallway, hurried footsteps before lunch, a child’s voice shouting that he was hungry, and a father who, at last, put his work aside to listen. Because sometimes, a child’s heart sees what adults take years to understand: that a family isn’t chosen for appearances, or money, or convenience… but for who stays when the world falls apart, and holds you until you can breathe again.