Chapter 33 — "Who are these girls?"
Los Angeles, January 2014
The Los Angeles sky was clear and the sun spread lazily over the streets of West Hollywood. It was one of those quiet January mornings when the city still breathed the air of New Year's Eve, and anything seemed possible.
The store that had started as a digital project now occupied a charming corner a few blocks from Melrose Avenue. The interior had a modern aesthetic, with light wood paneling, chrome clothes racks, large mirrors and touches of burnt pink. The soft lighting made everything look "Instagrammable".
Gustavo was at the register, helping with the organization of the receipts. He was wearing a white shirt rolled up to the elbows and dark jeans. She had moved back to LA right after graduating from Harvard and had decided to spend the entire month relaxing and helping Haley with the store before heading back to Boston to start her LL.M.
Haley was standing near the dressing room, sorting through a new batch of dresses. She was wearing a white pleated skirt and a fitted black blouse with a square neckline. Her hair was pulled up in a makeshift high bun, and she was holding a tablet with the latest inventory information.
"Gus, have you checked the new blazers?" she asked, her back to him, her index finger tapping frantically.
"Yes, I have. They're listed as 'Haley Signature Collection – Blazer Rosé' with twelve units in stock," he replied with a slight smile, looking up from his computer.
"Perfect. I love that you added the flower emoji in the name. It's cute."
"It just went with your overly aesthetic vibe," he joked, taking a sip of cold coffee. She laughed.
— "You won't be laughing when the over-the-top aesthetic is on the cover of Vogue."
— "Here you go," he said, extending his hand for a high five.
They high-fived and went back to work. The store's background music was a calm playlist playing softly and the smell of vanilla and wood perfumed the air.
That's when the doorbell rang.
Two girls walked in. Tall, thin, wearing huge sunglasses. One was wearing high-waisted jeans, a simple white T-shirt, and an oversized jacket. The other was wearing a black crop top and leather pants. Both had perfect hair, light but flawless makeup, and an aura of "we're used to being the center of everything."
Haley froze in the middle of the store.
Literally froze.
— "Oh my… GOD," she whispered, her eyes wide, dropping the tablet so it almost fell to the floor. "It's… it's… Kendall and Kylie Jenner."
Gustavo looked at the girls, then at Haley, not understanding the drama.
— "Who?"
Haley turned to him with a look of shock.
— "WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'who'?! They're THE JENNERS. Kendall. Kylie. Kardashians. Biggest names in fashion, beauty, social media… Are you kidding me, right?"
— "Uh… no. I've never heard of them."
— "My God, do you live under a rock of criminal jurisprudence?" — she whispered loudly, running her hand nervously through her hair. — "Gustavo, they're A-LIST. If they like the store… this place could explode!"
Gustavo remained calm. If there was one thing Harvard had taught him well, it was to maintain composure.
— "Okay. Relax. Act like nothing happened. They're customers, right? We'll treat them with the same professionalism as anyone else."
— "Do you realize that just one story of them wearing a piece from the store can generate what I would earn in two months in two days?"
Gustavo crossed his arms.
— "Do you want me to go over there and offer something?"
— "NO!" — she exclaimed, then lowered her tone. — "Not in an obvious way. Wait, give me a minute. I need to... adjust my blouse. And my posture."
She ran to the small storage room behind the counter, quickly changed her shoes (now heels), let her hair down, put on lipstick, grabbed a perfume and came back like a model coming off the Chanel runway.
Gustavo watched her with an expression of someone who wanted to laugh, but preferred to respect the seriousness of the moment for her.
The Jenners walked through the hallways with the naturalness of those who frequented Milan, Paris and New York. One of them, Kylie, pulled on a pink dress and held it against her body in front of the mirror.
— "Kenny, this one is cute," she said softly.
— "Uh-huh, just like you," Kendall replied.
Haley walked over, maintaining her posture.
— "Hey girls. If you need any help with sizes or combinations, I'm here to help. This piece is part of our signature collection, designed by me."
Kylie looked at her over her glasses and smiled.
— "Really? Wow. The store is beautiful."
— "Thank you. I'm so glad you came."
Kendall pointed to a jacket.
— "Is this yours too?"
— "Yes. This particular piece was inspired by downtown LA architecture. Sturdy on the outside, but soft fabric on the inside."
Kylie raised her eyebrows in interest.
— "I like that idea."
As the two tried on a few clothes in the dressing room, Haley almost was freaking out in silence. Gustavo came closer and whispered:
— "They're just like us. You're doing great."
— "Just like us? Gustavo, they have millions of followers!"
— "And I passed the Bar Exam with 100%," he replied jokingly.
She lightly shoved him with her shoulder.
— "You're an alien. I'm a girl from California who had a Kylie poster in her closet."
— "And now she's in your dressing room. Growth."
Kendall came out of the dressing room with the jacket on her shoulders.
— "I'll take this one."
Kylie appeared next, wearing the pink dress.
— "This one too."
Gustavo served them at the checkout with absolute professionalism. Haley, next to her, organized the hangers and bags with a half-frozen smile on her face.
At the end of the purchase, Kylie took out her cell phone.
— "Can we take a picture of the store and post it on our stories? The aesthetics here are... amazing."
Haley almost fainted.
— "Sure! Please!"
Kendall pointed to the corner decorated with neon lights and plants:
— "Over there, Kenny. It looks cool."
They took a few pictures, posted them, and left with a "Thank you, we love it!" as the door closed and the doorbell rang like a lucky bell.
Silence.
Gustavo looked at Haley, who was motionless, with her hands on her face.
— "Breathe, Haley."
— "They… THEY POSTED IT! OH. MY. GOD."
She took out her phone and, in seconds, the notifications started exploding. Likes. Comments. Follows. Shares. Orders.
— "Gustavo… I think… the store is going to explode. Like, really. Explode."
He smiled, calm.
— "You deserve it. And I'm glad you had enough stock."
— "I'm glad I have you," she said sincerely, hugging him suddenly.
He hugged her back, laughing.
— "Imagine when Beyoncé comes."
— "Don't joke about it."
— "If she comes, I promise to remember who it is."
Chapter 34 – Return to the Cradle of Knowledge
February 2014 – Cambridge, Massachusetts
The bitter cold of Cambridge was back. The wind blew hard down Massachusetts Avenue, pushing the last dry leaves that had resisted since late autumn. Snow was gently accumulating on the steps of the entrance to Harvard Law School, dyeing the campus a serene but imposing white.
Gustavo held his black suitcase tightly as he walked through the campus courtyard. He wore a dark gray overcoat, a burgundy scarf, and leather gloves. His stubble gave him a more adult look, and his attentive eyes shone with that mix of nostalgia and responsibility.
"We're back," he muttered to himself, pausing for a second to stare at Langdell Hall, Harvard's main law library, where so many nights had been spent under piles of case law.
Harvard Law School was no longer the unknown monster it had been three years ago. Now, Gustavo was on another level. He had earned his J.D. with honors, been valedictorian of the 2013 class, passed the dreaded California Bar Exam with 100%, and even interned at the Boston office of the DoD, dealing with national security cases. All of this before he was 22.
Reconnecting with routine
As he entered his new dorm room — different from the previous one, more spacious and private, reserved for LL.M. students —, Gustavo let out a sigh.
— "Much more civilized than that tiny room in freshman year," he joked, throwing his suitcase on the bed.
After a quick tidying up and a hot shower, he dressed in a navy blue sweater, dress pants, and Oxford shoes. Later that afternoon, he would have his first meeting of the semester with his new LL.M. advisor.
As he walked across the campus toward the administrative building, he reflected:
"Three years. I arrived here as a young boy, without knowing what to expect. Today, I return as a lawyer, experienced and with something that few foreigners here have: respect."
Right at the reception of the LL.M wing, a friendly employee greeted him:
— "Mr. Silva? Come in. Professor Jonathan K. is already waiting for you."
Jonathan Kingsley was a renowned expert in international law and legal security, with experience at the UN, NATO and, of course, the Department of Defense. He was also Gustavo's mentor now in the LL.M.
— "Gustavo!" — Jonathan said as he got up from the leather armchair and shook the Brazilian's hand firmly. — "Welcome back. We've been waiting for you."
— "Professor, it's an honor to be under your guidance," Gustavo replied, with a firm smile.
— "You were one of the most unanimous choices of the LL.M. committee. Among us... some students still wonder how a foreigner managed to get clearance with the DoD."
— "Luck and sweat," he replied, maintaining his modesty.
The conversation continued for almost an hour. They discussed the subjects that Gustavo would be taking all focused on international criminal law, counterterrorism and highly complex litigation, as well as research projects and contributions to academic publications. The professor also reinforced Gustavo's role as a representative of the LL.M. in the simulations of international courts that semester.
As he left the building, Gustavo walked with firm steps. His eyes focused on the horizon, but his mind remembered. When he arrived in 2010, he had no idea that his life would take on such proportions. Now, he was part of such a restricted legal circle that he could one day be considered part of the international legal elite.
Back at the DoD
Two days later, Gustavo was already wearing his gold badge and walking through the well-protected corridors of the Department of Defense's regional office in Boston.
Enhanced security, biometrics, digital check-in. He was used to it, but now, something was different: he was treated like part of the team.
— "Mr. Silva, room 203. Dr. Adleman is waiting for you," said one of the assistants with a friendly smile.
Dr. Adleman was one of the senior lawyers Gustavo had met during his previous internship—a specialist in war law and international terrorism. A serious man, with a deep voice, always wearing an impeccable suit and handwritten notes, like a legal anachronism.
— "Silva," he said in a hoarse voice when he saw the young man entering. — "I heard about your approval at the Bar. Congratulations. Your reputation precedes you."
— "Thank you, sir. I am honored to be back," said Gustavo respectfully.
— "You're not just an intern anymore. You'll be my senior legal researcher this semester. We have a case involving international tribunals and possible war crimes. You'll like it."
Gustavo raised an eyebrow in interest.
— "I'm ready."
They sat down. Dr. Adleman slid a thick file to Gustavo's side.
— "Read this over the next 72 hours. Then we'll talk about how to present this argument in a simulation with members of the State Department. Your internationalist mind will be tested."
— "Challenge accept."
Double life: academic and legal
The following weeks were intense. In the mornings, Gustavo was in the Harvard Law library, reading Geneva Convention treaties and writing articles for his advisor. In the afternoons, he was at the DoD, analyzing classified documents, deciphering evidence of covert operations, and developing legal strategies that would be tested by high-ranking defense officials.
One night, after leaving the DoD, he received a call from Haley.
— "GUS! The store was mentioned in an article in Vogue! Are you listening to me? VOGUE!"
— "Seriously? That's incredible! Now you're going to have to hire a logistics team," he said, smiling into the phone in the middle of the icy Boston street.
— "I'm already on it! I just wish you could see my face right now. I'm freaking out."
— "I can imagine. But look… you worked hard. This isn't luck. It's merit."
— "And I would never have done this without you. Never forget that, okay?"
— "I don't plan on it. And soon you'll have to open a branch in Boston."
— "Or maybe Paris," she replied excitedly. "But tell me. How's the DoD doing? Any state secrets you can tell me?"
— "Only if I don't want to graduate," he joked. "But I can tell you that today I read about a case involving a drone in the Middle East that will require our legal opinion."
— "You're so cool when you say those movie things."
— "And you're the most famous businesswoman in my social circle."
They laughed together.
Nighttime reflections
One night, already in his dorm, Gustavo looked at the wall of his room where he had pasted photos of important moments: his graduation, him with Hailey and his parents in LA, the storefront with the illuminated sign, the Harvard library, and even a selfie with his temporary DoD badge.
He took out a black notebook where he wrote personal reflections. He sat down at his desk and, with a fountain pen, wrote:
"Coming here at 18 was a leap. I grew in three years what many don't grow in a decade. Now, at 21, I feel the weight of decisions that were once just dreams.
But most importantly: I continue to be Leandro and Carla's son. Hailey's friend. The boy who believes in justice.
Let the LL.M. come. Let the challenges come. The world is just beginning."
He closed the notebook. He turned off the light. And he slept peacefully, ready for whatever the future had in store for him.
Chapter 35 – Silent Courts, Hidden Truths
February 2014 – Harvard Law School, Advanced Moot Court
Snow covered the campus like a thick blanket, muffling the sounds of the students' hurried footsteps as they crossed the courtyard between buildings. Inside Austin Hall, on the second floor, the lights of the Advanced Moot Court Room were on, and a select group of students were gathered around a large, dark wooden oval table.
At the head of the room, Professor Michael Thorne, an expert in international criminal law and national security, adjusted his glasses as he surveyed the students with stern but watchful eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "welcome to the most challenging LL.M. Moot Court this semester. This is no ordinary simulation. The case you will be assigned is based on real and extremely sensitive events, with elements involving classified military operations, terrorist actions, and armed international conflict."
Gustavo's eyes lit up. He had already imagined it would be something grand, but the density of the subject mixing criminal law and geopolitics excited him deeply. Thorne continued:
"The case revolves around a secret military operation carried out on foreign territory, in which civilians were killed by intelligence error. The moot court will be that of the International Criminal Court. The prosecution will maintain that it was a war crime. The defense, of course, will argue that it was a legitimate operation, within the scope of international war law."
He paused for a second, observing the students' faces.
"We will divide the class into two groups. Gustavo Silva," he pointed out, "you will lead the defense."
There was a slight murmur among the students. Gustavo straightened in his chair, nodding respectfully. He had expected this he was known among the professors as one of the most prepared students, even more so after his work with the DoD.
— "You will be free to form your support group. Three assistant attorneys, a strategist, and a legal researcher."
He took out his notebook and began to jot down names. He immediately thought of Lucia van Doren, an expert in international treaties, and Rafael Ahmed, a colleague from Pakistan who had a thorough reading of Islamic Law, essential for contextualizing the conflict. For the legal researcher, he thought of Elise Wang, a former UN intern known for her mastery of ICC precedents.
Defense Meeting – Study Room 4B, Langdell Library
That same night, with the group complete, Gustavo gathered his colleagues.
On the table were piles of declassified documents—redacted, but real enough to give the weight of the simulation. There were maps, audio transcripts, dossiers of alleged targets, intelligence reports. The case was dense. And dangerous.
Gustavo spoke while pointing to the whiteboard:
— "The key point of the accusation will be that the American military force, when attacking a rural complex in South Asia, killed 17 civilians. They will maintain that the information used to justify the attack was flawed, and that there was no imminent risk."
Lucia raised her hand.
— "But we have the prerogatives of Article 51 of the UN Charter, which speaks of self-defense."
— "Exactly," Gustavo replied. "Our role will be to prove that there was, indeed, a concrete and ongoing risk and that the operation was a proportionate response, based on military intelligence data."
Rafael, with his British-Pakistani accent, added:
— "If we can demonstrate that the organization hidden in that complex had already committed previous attacks and posed a persistent threat, we have a good argument."
— "We have to humanize the operators too," Elise commented. "Show that whoever made the decision did not do so lightly."
Gustavo nodded.
— "That's where my experience at the DoD comes in. I've seen how these decisions are made. Let's build this on documentation and strong legal language."
He looked up, determined:
— "Gentlemen, our mission is clear: to prove that there was no war crime, but rather a necessary military action within international law."
The weeks that followed were intense.
Gustavo spent days in the library and nights at the DoD, aligning arguments with experts and senior lawyers within the limits allowed by the NDA (Non-Disclosure Agreement) he had signed. He would never share real information, but his experience there was a differentiator.
He guided Lucia in constructing doctrinal citations, practiced mock trials with Rafael, and personally wrote the defense's final speech, rehearsing every word, every pause, every look in the mirror.
Judgment Day – Hauser Hall Mock Trial
The hall was packed. Professors, students, and guests from the DOD and Yale School of International Law were present.
On one side, the Prosecution: three veteran LL.M. students with backgrounds in the European Public Prosecution Service.
On the other side, Gustavo Silva, with his well-dressed and prepared group.
He wore a navy blue suit, a wine-colored tie, and polished shoes. His eyes were fixed on the panel of judges—made up of three professors and a guest federal judge.
The chief judge announced:
— "Case number 24-134. International Public Prosecutor's Office versus Sovereign State X. We now begin the proceedings. The defense may present itself."
Gustavo walked slowly to the lectern.
— "Your honorable judges, it is an honor to appear before this court."
His voice was firm. His gaze, direct. A respectful silence filled the room.
— "We are here today to discuss the price of security. The weight of decisions made in fractions of a second. And the risk of judging a war backwards, with the coldness of time and the comfort of distance."
He paused.
— "My colleagues in the prosecution will argue that innocent lives were lost. They are right. And we regret each and every one of them. But regret is not proof of a crime."
From that point on, Gustavo gave a speech that would hold everyone's attention for almost 40 minutes. He presented precedents, discussed proportionality, cited treaties, and defended the military decision with logic and empathy. At several points, the judges took notes attentively, their eyes fixed on his confident posture.
At the end, the room burst into respectful murmurs.
Result
Three days later, the results were announced at an internal event.
— "Based on the arguments presented, legal evidence, and technical expertise, the panel declares victory for the Defense led by Gustavo Silva."
Applause echoed. Even members of the prosecution came to congratulate him.
Lucia hugged him tightly.
— "You were a force of nature."
Rafael smiled.
— "You should be practicing law in The Hague by now, Gustavo."
That evening, Gustavo walked across campus with the wind biting his face. He stopped for a moment in front of Langdell Library and smiled.
He pulled out his cell phone and called his father.
— "Dad… we won the Moot."
— "You never cease to amaze me, son."
— "There's still a long way to go. But I feel like I'm on the right track."
And he was.
Chapter 36 – Between Nations and Silences
March 2014 – Harvard Law School
It was a cold Wednesday when Gustavo received the email. He was in the Langdell Hall library, surrounded by international law books, reviewing documents for the next legal report he would deliver to the Department of Defense (DoD), when his laptop emitted the subtle sound of a new message.
He clicked.
Sender: U.S. Department of Defense – External Affairs Division
Subject: Official Invitation – Technical Visit to the UN Security Council
Dear Mr. Gustavo Silva,
Given your significant contribution to the DoD Advanced Legal Internship Program and your current enrollment in the Harvard Law School L.L.M., we are pleased to invite you to join a select delegation that will represent the Department on a technical observation visit to the United Nations Security Council in New York.
The visit will take place between March 18 and 21, 2014.
Congratulations.
Sincerely,
Christine Weller
Executive Assistant, External Relations Division – DoD
Gustavo leaned back in his chair. He took a deep breath. The weight of the opportunity fell on his shoulders like a mixture of responsibility and pride. The UN. The Security Council. A stage where the world decided on peace and war.
He picked up his cell phone and called his father.
— "Dad… guess who was invited to the UN Security Council?"
— "That's a lie! Are you kidding?" Leandro Silva, on the other end of the line, seemed as excited as his son.
— "Official invitation. I'm going with a delegation from the DoD. I'm going to see everything up close. Behind the scenes. Raw diplomacy."
— "Son, this is… this is monumental."
— "I know." Gustavo smiled, looking out the window at the snow-covered campus. "I just hope I'm up to it."
March 18 – UN Headquarters, Manhattan, New York
The imposing glass building of the UN reflected the gray New York sky. The UN flag fluttered alongside the dozens of flags of the member countries. Security was tight multiple checkpoints, biometric scanners, and an entire team of the U.S. Secret Service coordinating the movements of the delegation.
Gustavo wore a tailored black suit, a navy blue tie with thin stripes, and a gray wool coat. He had a security badge pinned to his lapel that read:
Gustavo Silva – Dept. of Defense – Legal Analyst (Trainee)
At his side were three other high-performing interns, an Air Force legal colonel, and Christine Weller herself, who was coordinating the visit.
As they walked through the white marble corridors, Gustavo carefully observed the panels, the peace murals, the discreet cameras on the corners.
— "This is not a building. It is a neutral zone. Here, every step is diplomatic," Christine said, noticing the gleam in his eyes.
— "I can feel it. The weight of history. The restrained sound of silent decisions."
She smiled.
— "Today, you will have the chance to watch a closed meeting of the Security Council. It is an extraordinary session on a humanitarian crisis in a fictional model country, but based on real conflicts. The session will have the status of an international simulation with observers."
— "Are we allowed to speak or just observe?" he asked.
— "Today, just observers. But tomorrow, you will participate in an official simulation with young diplomats from Switzerland, Germany, Japan and the United Kingdom. You will be a legal advisor to the North American delegation."
Gustavo held back a sigh.
This is more than a simulation. This is the real making of global leaders.
Security Council Chamber – Closed Session
The black leather chairs were arranged in a semicircle. In the center, microphones picked up every breath. The plaques of the permanent member states the United States, Russia, China, France, the United Kingdom gleamed in the indirect lights.
Gustavo sat in the row reserved for observers. He wore a headset to listen to the simultaneous translation. Across from him, the diplomats discussed the feasibility of a limited military intervention in a territory under threat of genocide.
"We must consider the principle of the Responsibility to Protect," said the French delegate.
"State sovereignty cannot be ignored," countered the Russian.
"What about the value of human life? How many will have to die before we justify action?" retorted the American.
Gustavo absorbed each argument. This was not rhetoric it was the mechanics of diplomacy in action. He was frantically writing down in his notebook: precedents, articles, clauses of the UN Charter. His mind was racing.
As he was leaving the session, while he was still absorbing everything, the legal colonel approached.
— "Did you hear the part about universal jurisdiction?"
— "Yes. It's exactly the topic I'm researching for my paper."
— "Then tomorrow you're going to shine. I want to see this Brazilian showing the world how to debate with reason and calm."
March 19 – Official UN Youth Simulation
The next morning, Gustavo was introduced to the official simulation. The US delegation's table was already set up, with folders, pens, and open laptops.
Gustavo took his place as legal counsel.
The delegation leader was Emily Zhang, a Yale international relations student, daughter of diplomats, fluent in five languages, and a sharp strategist. They shook hands.
"Gustavo Silva. Legal counsel, DoD."
"Emily Zhang. Lead delegate. I heard about you last night at dinner."
"Good news or bad news?" he joked.
"They said you're dangerous… with words."
They both smiled. The simulation began with the previous night's theme, now with participants from five continents. Gustavo was instrumental in intervening, suggesting specific clauses from Chapter VII of the UN Charter, advocating actions within the legal scope without compromising state sovereignty.
— "I propose a humanitarian monitoring force, with a limited mandate and renewable every 30 days," he suggested, in a firm tone.
The British representative inclined his head.
— "Interesting. It balances action and diplomacy."
At the end of the session, the evaluation committee announced that the U.S. delegation was considered the most cohesive, legally and diplomatically accurate.
March 21 – Closing and Recognition
At the closing, the UN assistant secretary, a Canadian diplomat with three decades of experience, shook Gustavo's hand.
— "You have a calm, analytical look. What is your plan after the L.L.M?"
— "I will join the LAPD as a legal officer and hope to continue collaborating with agencies like the DoD, perhaps in the future the FBI."
— "Or maybe… something more international." He winked. "The world needs people like you. Remember that."
Back in Boston – Night, Gustavo's Room
Now at home, Gustavo made a video call.
On the screen were Leandro and Carla Silva his parents and soon after Haley, who came in laughing:
— "Okay, tell me you got Ban Ki-moon's autograph!"
— "Haley, he's not even there anymore." Gustavo laughed. "But I met the assistant secretary, several diplomats... and I was a lawyer in a real simulation."
— "Wow. Is this serious, Gustavo. Like... the beginning of an international career?"
— "Maybe. But you know: my heart is still in criminal justice, at home. In LA. On the street."
Leandro interrupted, moved:
— "Son, your mother and I... are so proud. The world can see you, but you never forgot where you came from."
Gustavo smiled. And in that moment, he knew he was where he needed to be.
Between the world and justice. Between the laws and the truth.
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