The torrential downpour had finally ceased, leaving behind the heavy scent of wet asphalt and ozone. Outside, the Silva Oil Company docks roared back to life, the clang of machinery and the shouts of stevedores replacing the drumming of the rain.Inside Ronaldo’s office, however, the atmosphere remained turbulent.“Do I have your promise that you won’t try to violate Linda?” Walter asked, his voice low and devoid of warmth.Ronaldo feigned a look of scandalized shock, pressing a hand to his chest. “What kind of man do you think I am?!”“You don’t expect me to answer that,” Walter replied, his eyes narrowing.“If you can’t be civilized, I suggest you keep your mouth shut,” Ronaldo snapped, dropping the act. He marched to the door and yanked it open. “If you could remove yourself, I would appreciate it.”“Too busy?” Walter asked, a smirk on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes.“It stopped raining. I need to take care of business. Out!” Ronaldo gestured theatrically to the hallway. “And

Emmanuelle’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird as she watched her phone skid across the Persian rug and land at her daughter’s feet.Jacqueline didn’t notice the blood draining from her mother’s face. She only saw the device, and instinctively crouched to retrieve it.“Daughter, NO NEED!” Emmanuelle shrieked, the panic in her voice stripping away any pretense of composure.Jacqueline paused, blinking. She didn’t sense the danger, merely the oddity of the outburst, as she extended the phone back to her mother.“What is it, Mom?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.Emmanuelle snatched the device, her eyes darting to the screen. She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.The screen was black. It had timed out.Jacqueline had seen nothing.“I was watching soap opera recaps,” Emmanuelle lied through her teeth, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. “But there was a photo of Igor Moreira shirtless. You know how it is.”Jacqueline’s confusion melt

Inside the executive office of the Sterling Empire, Karl gripped the edge of his mahogany desk, his knuckles white, clinging desperately to the hope that his orchestration of the Praia Grande tragedy would remain buried in the past.Patricia stared out the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the last gray clouds drift away over the city skyline.“The rain has stopped,” she observed, her voice devoid of warmth. “I’d better go home.”Karl lunged forward, panic flashing in his eyes. “Patty, promise me you’ll think about it?”“There is nothing to think about,” Patricia replied, turning to face him with a gaze like ice. “Matt and I have already talked. I need to be Ronaldo’s fiancée again. I owe him that restitution. Because of you, Ronaldo lost his mind. He spent years on heavy medication, believing he was crazy, all because of your machinations.”“He always had a few screws loose,” Karl scoffed, shrugging his shoulders as if his nephew’s sanity were a triviality.Patricia recoiled, horrifi

“Patricia makes her own choices, Ron,” Matthew replied, his voice measured and cautious.“That doesn’t help me much,” Ronaldo scoffed with a brittle, mocking smile emerging on his lips. “If she chooses me, how can I be sure you or your father won’t try other tricks?”“Ron, understand this once and for all: while you were happy with Patricia, I never lifted a finger to disrupt you, did I?” Matthew crossed his arms, his expression grave. “I moved on with Elaine. We might still be married today if it weren’t for my father. If it weren’t for him, Elaine wouldn’t have turned to Nathan, wouldn’t have gotten pregnant by him. Now I am without a wife, and I don’t know if I’ll have Patty.”Ronaldo’s smile twisted into something ironic, savoring the bitter taste of vindication. “Well, I tried to warn you. I would’ve been more emphatic on that podcast, but I was served a strange ‘Indian tea’...”“That wasn’t tea—” Matt started to correct him, but let it go.“So,” Ronaldo interrupted, his eyes sud

Karl and Matthew entered Abner’s study alone, the heavy door clicking shut behind them. Karl immediately flipped the all the switches, flooding the room with artificial brilliance, desperate to dispel the gloom. Matthew, however, walked straight to the desk lamp and twisted the knob, plunging the corner into shadow. The message was clear: this was not going to be a pleasant conversation.“Son, what is really going on with you?” Karl asked, though the tremor in his voice suggested he already knew the answer.“I think you know.” Matthew’s voice was colder than the Arctic wind. “It was you.”“It was me who...?” Karl blinked, feigning ignorance with the clumsiness of a bad actor.“HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO DENY IT?” Matthew exploded, his composure shattering. “You’ve been denying the truth since the moment I asked you!”“Matt, I never did anything you are thinking!” Karl protested, oblivious to how pathological his lies had become.“You are beyond redemption!” Matthew shook his head, look