The day of Jackson and Cindy's engagement party arrived.As planned, the party took place at Borges House.For the first time, the Borges family opened their home to the public.As the afternoon drew to a close, the guests spread out across the garden and pool area, and ambient music filled the ears of those present.Camera flashes popped like fireflies around the couple. They couldn’t take two steps without a fresh wave of handshakes, backslaps, and well-wishes.Jackson leaned in, his voice soft beneath the chatter. “Enjoying the party, darling?”Cindy’s smile stretched from ear to ear, her eyes catching the fairy lights strung above. “It’s everything I ever wanted.”Jackson’s gaze snapped toward the entrance, locking onto a distinctive pair. “Look, honey. They made it.”Cindy stood on her tiptoes, scanning the sea of tailored suits and evening gowns. “Mr. and Mrs. Blumberg?”“The very same. True to their word.” Jackson guided her through the throng to meet them.Guests nodded and sm

Bella’s eyes lit up. “What beach house?” she asked, contrasting to Emmanuelle’s deepening scowl.“We wanted to keep it quiet.” Linda shot Emmanuelle a withering glare that practically screamed, Thanks for forcing my hand. “Bryce Hudson is moving out of Matthew’s beach house. We’re taking over the lease.”“Since when?” Emmanuelle demanded, her voice rising to a shrill, piercing pitch.“Since you cut Linda off!” Walter snapped back, squaring his shoulders.“Young man, this is a discussion for the family table!” Emmanuelle planted her hands on her hips, refusing to yield an inch. “Have you even spoken to your sister about this?”“Not yet.” Walter’s lips curled into a self-assured smirk. “But I have zero doubts Jacque will be thrilled for us.”“Oh, your father is going to have a stroke!” Emmanuelle spun on her heels and marched away — though her stiff, aging knees kept the dramatic exit from being as swift as she intended.Matthew materialized at their side with perfect timing, the hard l

Monday morning. Back to the grind.It was also moving day. Walter’s bags were open across the bed in his suite at the Andrade Mansion. He tossed shirts and jeans into them with brisk, efficient movements, his face set in a hard line. He didn’t spare a single glance around the room he’d grown up in.The heavy oak door swung inward. Charles stepped in, Emmanuelle trailing close behind.The fresh Botox had settled slightly, but Emmanuelle wasn’t doing it any favors. Deep creases fought to form across her forehead as she chewed on her thumbnail, her foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the hardwood.Charles rubbed his chest, drawing a slow, rattling breath like a man trying to fend off a heart attack.“Son, are you really going through with this?” Charles asked, keeping his voice low and steady.“Yes, Dad. And I’m walking out that door today.” Walter didn’t break his packing rhythm. “Nothing short of killing me will stop it.”“STOP IT!” Emmanuelle shrieked, her hands flying to her temple

Sheila marched through the corridors of the Sterling Mansion, her heels clicking aggressively against the marble as she headed for the garage to retrieve her hot pink Citroën. Right on her heels was Alice, her dear mother-in-law, raining down a torrential flood of insults.“You wicked woman!” Alice’s voice echoed off the concrete, her nostrils flaring. “How dare you waltz off to work without freeing your own husband — my son! — from a blanket cocoon that you tangled him in, acting worse than a bitch in heat?!”Sheila pointed her keys at the Citroën. The headlights flashed with a crisp chirp, though she deeply wished the button had the power to make Alice vanish instead.“If your heart bleeds so much for your baby boy, go untangle him yourself! I managed to get out. Why can’t a grown man do the same?” Sheila yanked the car door open. “And what do you mean I formed that cocoon? That happened because the two of us were—”“SILENCE! Spare me the details of your whoring!” Alice’s upper lip

Matthew didn’t have to check his watch more than twice before João Pedro appeared at the executive suite of the Sterling Empire.The photographer stepped over the threshold tentatively, his eyes darting around the room as if testing the floor for landmines.“Come on in, Mr. de Paula. The floor won’t bite.” Matthew leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers with the cold patience of a spider watching a fly land on its web.The invitation only made João Pedro move slower. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Sterling?”“I did. Close the door.”João Pedro hesitated, his hand lingering on the knob.Matthew got suspicious. ‘Was he keeping it open out of fear?’Finally, the latch clicked shut. He turned back to the young tycoon, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a visible, nervous gulp.“Let’s cut the pleasantries, Mr. de Paula.” Matthew stood up, smoothing his suit jacket. “We’re done dancing around the truth. I know my father hired you to take that photo.”“What photo?” João Pedro tried to