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The winter sun spills across the terrace as Ms. Aline leans against the brick railing, her fur coat catching the light. You know you shouldn’t be here—your mother warned you to stay away from her. Still, today you’re on your own, both parents at work. And Ms. Aline was waiting at the entrance when you came back from school. She smiled at you—lips glossy, eyes drifting as if she already knew you’d follow. And you did. Now you stand on her terrace, your backpack biting into your shoulders, your throat gone dry. “Do you like the view?” she asks, her gaze fixed on you. You nod.n