The black chrome car with mirrored finish slid through the humble streets of the neighborhood where Luna lived for years.
She was in the back seat, silent, watching through the window the worn-out façades, the clotheslines full of swaying clothes, the graffiti-covered walls, and the slightly bent aluminum gates.
The world there remained the same — and, by contrast, she was unrecognizable.
Luna was nibbling the corner of her nail, an old habit she had buried under impeccable nails and amethyst salt baths. But now, the nervousness was back, stuck in her throat.
"I should've come invisible…" she murmured.
Ivy, as always present in the form of a hologram floating discreetly on the car dashboard, replied sweetly.
"Miss Luna requested a visit with moderate visual impact. I chose a look with 82% chance of causing positive commotion and 100% 'mouth open for more than 3 seconds.'"
Luna sighed.
The car door opened smoothly.
And the sound of her stiletto echoed like a sentence on the cracked cement sidewalks.
She wore a pearly white jumpsuit, fitted with millimetric precision. Her blond hair, loose and flowing, seemed to move with a personal breeze. Sunglasses with gray gradient lenses protected her galaxy-like eyes.
In five seconds…
The first lady on the street dropped her bread bag.
"Mercy… is that Beyoncé?" whispered a teenager in crooked flip-flops on the sidewalk.
A dog barked three times and then laid down, confused.
A child pointed with wide eyes. "Mom… Barbie escaped from the TV."
Luna walked toward building number 88.
Old. Stained. Broken tiles in the entrance. Gate that never closed properly.
She smiled with a bittersweetness.
That was where she lived.
The studio where she spent nights crying, counting coins to buy instant noodles, and writing résumés in the dark to save electricity.
She climbed the steps slowly, like someone respecting a graveyard of old versions of herself.
The doorbell rang three times before the door opened violently.
Mrs. Marlene, the landlady of the building, appeared with a flip-flop in hand (standard neighborhood weapon), ready to send away some curious stranger.
But she stopped.
Eyes wide open.
Mouth half open.
"Luna…?"
"Hi, Mrs. Marlene."
Silence. Absolute silence. The kind of silence that happens when even the universe is watching.
"But… girl… what did you… did you become an actress? Model? Did you get facial harmonization? Are you with someone famous? Is it a cult?"
Luna laughed, genuinely. "None of that. I just… got lucky."
Her voice was still the same. But the tone was firmer. Serene. Like someone who no longer needs to beg for respect.
Children, mothers, flip-flop-wearing elders, teenagers with colored hair. All with cell phones in hand, filming discreetly.
"Guys, it's Luna! The one who lived in 302!"
"The girl who sold truffles on the street?"
"No way! The one who bathed with a bucket when there was no water?"
"But look at that hair… and that outfit! That's imported… that's… that's from a primetime soap!"
Luna just waved, trying to look less from another planet.
Mrs. Marlene had her hand on her chest, almost having an episode.
"My girl… if you won the lottery, just tell me so I can stop paying that cursed Enel bill."
"It wasn't the lottery," Luna replied. "But it felt like it."
She climbed to the third floor. The hallway was the same: moldy smell, worn-out floor, the old neighbor listening to AM radio at nuclear volume.
She stopped in front of the old door. The lock was still scratched.
She ran her fingers over the wood.
"This was where everything collapsed… and also where it began."
When she came down, the crowd in the courtyard had tripled. People who didn't even live there showed up. Local influencers were already going live, speculating about who she was.
Ivy discreetly appeared in Luna's field of vision, whispering.
"Side Mission Completed: Silent Social Impact."
"Reach: 2,371 people."
Luna sighed.
Smiled slightly.
And turned to the people.
"Thank you for everything. Really. But now… I need to go."
Mrs. Marlene suddenly grabbed her hand.
"Girl… whatever happened… I'm glad it happened to you. You were always good. You deserve the world."
Luna felt her eyes burn. Swallowed hard. "Thank you, Mrs. Marlene. You gave me rice on credit more times than I can count. That… I'll never forget."
She got into the car.
The crowd still trying to film.
Some waving.
Others still not believing.
And when the car left, leaving behind the past and taking Luna toward an absurdly new reality, she leaned her forehead against the glass and whispered.
"I can't tell the truth to anyone. But… maybe I can change their lives anyway."
Ivy reappeared, smiling with holographic gentleness. "Are you sure you don't want to donate five million anonymously to the lady on the third floor? She still washes clothes by hand."
Luna looked up, laughed, and said. "Make it a hundred million."
The luxury car moved on in silence, cutting through the avenues smoothly.
Luna leaning against the window, but her eyes didn't see the city.
She was lost.
Not on GPS — in memory.
At ten years old, she was left at a bus stop with a small backpack and a note written with a cheap pen:
"We're sorry. We can't take care of you anymore. Be strong."
Adoptive parents.
It's curious how a beautiful word can hide a blade.
She stayed there. Waiting. For hours.
The sun turned to rain. The rain turned to night.
And no one came back.
The following days were blurs of hunger and fear.
Cold streets. Cruel looks. Disgust disguised as charity.
She quickly learned that people who offer bread with one hand sometimes hide stones in the other.
Learned to run. To lie. To pretend to be invisible.
Slept in terminals, ate leftovers, faced drunk adults and aggressive boys.
And even so… never broke.
At twelve, she met a woman with a hoarse voice and bleached hair who taught her to sell candies at the traffic light.
At fifteen, she used public libraries as shelter, pretending to study while warming her cold hands on the books.
At seventeen, she took the national exam. Alone. With no fixed address.
She passed. Got a scholarship.
Cleaned bathrooms in a fancy restaurant while attending college at night.
She fought. Alone. Always.
Luna blinked slowly. A tear almost escaped, but she held it with the same strength she used to hold back so many screams throughout her life.
Now the world saw her as a rich, mysterious, impeccable woman.
But only she knew how many times she had screamed for help in the silence of the streets.
She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply.
"I swore I would never go hungry again. Never go back to that bus stop." she whispered.
And as if the universe were listening…
GRRRRRRRRRR
Her stomach growled loudly.
She laughed, surprised. "Ok, body. Message received."
Luna pulled up the car's digital control panel and activated the AI's search mode.
"Ivy, is there a fancy restaurant nearby that accepts rich people with trauma?"
The AI appeared floating in the form of a maître d', with a subtle smile.
"There is the Astralis Dining Lounge, Miss Luna. Located at the top of Hotel Celestine, five stars. Discreet atmosphere, panoramic view, and chefs who scream in French even when in a good mood."
"Perfect. Make the reservation. And let them know I want to sit where I can see the sky."
"Considering today's emotional history, I've also added a self-affirmation dessert. Chocolate with edible gold."
Luna raised an eyebrow.
"You really know me."
Twenty minutes later…
The car stopped at the entrance of the luxurious Hotel Celestine.
A man with a top hat — yes, top hat — opened the door for her, and the red carpet seemed to have been rolled out directly from the stylists' paradise.
People at the reception froze.
"It's her…"
"The mysterious billionaire."
"The heiress of Augustus Malroth…"
"Did you see those heels? You can't even get those here with organ trafficking!"
The elevator went up to the top floor, silent and mirrored.
Luna looked at herself in the reflection with a strange expression.
She looked perfect.
But inside… there were still echoes.
And maybe that would never change.
As she exited the elevator, a hostess in a silver dress approached immediately.
"Welcome to Astralis, Miss Luna. Your table is ready."
Luna smiled kindly.
"Thank you."
The table was facing a gigantic glass wall, with a view of the whole city. The urban lights sparkled like stars on the asphalt. It was beautiful.
She sat down slowly. Pulled up the digital menu, but Ivy appeared right away.
"I've already selected recommended dishes for emotional reconnection: black truffle risotto with aged cheese and filet medallions in old wine sauce.
Drink: wild red fruit juice with aromatic mist.
Ah, and the waiter is cute."
"Of course he is…" Luna murmured, laughing.
While waiting, leaning back with the linen napkin in her lap and a delicate glass in hand, she realized that all the discreet glances of the elite were on her.
Whispers. Theories. Disguised photos.
But this time…
she didn't shrink.
Didn't hide.
She raised her chin, crossed her legs, and gave a slight smile.