March 14, 2016 — Barretos, São Paulo
On March 14, 2016, Lucas Andrade lived a life defined by restraint.
At twenty-eight, he worked as a financial analyst at the headquarters of a credit cooperative in the interior of São Paulo. His position was stable, predictable — carefully earned through years of discipline. Stability, for Lucas, was not comfort. It was survival.
A graduate in Economics from the University of Campinas, he possessed a sharp analytical mind and a deep understanding of financial systems. He read obsessively — classical economists, modern theorists, geopolitical analyses — always trying to understand how power circulated through institutions and markets.
Yet, despite his knowledge, Lucas avoided risk. He had learned early that one mistake could cost everything.
He had been raised in an orphanage in Barretos, directed by Dona Marta — a firm, principled woman who believed discipline was the only true form of care. Under her supervision, he learned responsibility, restraint, and the value of effort. She demanded much, but she gave structure, purpose, and dignity.
As an adult, Lucas lived modestly. A small apartment. An aging car from the late 1990s. No luxuries. Whatever he managed to save, he sent back to the orphanage that had raised him. It was not charity — it was loyalty.
That night, after leaving work late, rain fell steadily over the city. When he turned the key in the ignition, the engine failed without warning. He stepped out of the car and took shelter beneath the metal awning of a closed storefront, dialing for a ride as thunder echoed overhead.
Then the sky split apart.
A flash of light consumed everything.