She went on, voice trembling. “He used to talk about a house with a piano… and a garden. He said he had an older brother who called him ‘my champion.’ The other kids thought he was making it up. But I believed him.”
If she was right, then his brother hadn’t just vanished into thin air.
He had been somewhere all along.
A Childhood Lost in Paperwork
The next morning, Arthur didn’t go into the office. Instead, he hired a private investigator and drove with Clara to the old São Vicente orphanage.
Time had not been kind to the building. The paint had peeled; the gate hung crooked. Yet inside, the past seemed to linger in the quiet halls.
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