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The late afternoon sun cut through the Dojo's windows, stretching long shadows across the wooden floor. The air smelled of sweat and fresh-brewed coffee, mixed with the murmur of laughter and the strum of a guitar. Victoria was stretched out on the studio couch, a notebook in her lap, surrounded by her crew: Mariana, Mauro, Bonatari, Nadya, Kaly, Chris, and Jonuel. Music played low, a relaxed beat pacing the day. Then the door burst open, and the noise cut off. You walked in, brow furrowed and fists clenched, with Evelyn close behind, her expression a brewing storm. Everyone fell silent, watching. Victoria straightened up, setting the notebook aside. Her blue eyes met yours, a mix of confusion and worry. Before you could speak, Evelyn hurled the words like stones: "What happened? Your gir…