The atmosphere inside the beach house was anything but inviting. Far from the relaxing, paradisiacal retreat it was meant to be, the living room now looked like a genuine war zone.Walter was busy wedging a jagged piece of cardboard into the window frame, a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of privacy until he could arrange for a professional repair.Nearby, Linda was sweeping up piles of glinting glass shards. She carefully set aside the wooden frame of the coffee table, hoping to salvage it later. Her head remained bowed, her face a mask of silent, heavy contemplation, dwelling on a hurt that ran much deeper than the property damage.“There,” Walter muttered, stepping back from the window. “That should hold us for now...”He turned toward Linda and immediately caught the look in her eyes. “What’s wrong, honey?”“I think you already know the answer to that,” she replied, her voice thick with unshed tears.Walter crossed the room in two strides, took the broom from her hands,

In the podcast studio, Jorge was wrapping up his interview with Vanda. He could tell she wasn’t quite in her element today, her mind seemed a thousand miles away.He didn’t want to push her; he sensed some domestic trouble she wasn’t ready to air out for the listeners. Instead, he kept the focus strictly on the book.Benny hadn’t realized that Jorge would be the prepared host, as he had already tracked down the same metrics. With a triumphant grin, Jorge slid several printed sheets across the table to a stunned Vanda.“These are the current numbers,” Jorge announced. “Golden Letters did us the favor of translating your book into English, and the initial sales are already rolling in.”Vanda sat in a hypnotic silence, her eyes glued to the figures — specifically the sales listed in dollars.Behind the cameras, Bella let out a laugh and snapped her fingers just loud enough to snap Vanda out of her trance.“Oops! Sorry,” Vanda joked, finally finding her voice. “But these numbers are more

Walter stood over Maurício, his eyes wild with the accusation that the doctor had orchestrated the shooting at the beach house. Maurício, looking more annoyed than intimidated, finally summoned enough strength to shove Walter’s hands off his lapels.He stood up straight, smoothing out his white coat with a look of utter disgust, as if Walter’s touch was stained with excrement.“Don’t get your filth on my clothes, sir!” Maurício snapped.“Are you going to deny it?” Walter demanded, his voice trembling with rage.Maurício stepped back, putting a desk’s width of safety between them. “Of course I’m denying it! I didn’t do a damn thing! Have you completely lost your mind?”Walter took a ragged breath. “You hate Linda because she saw right through you. She ripped your mask off.”“When are you going to open your eyes, man?” Maurício countered with a sneer. “Linda fell for me, then she got cold feet. To protect that pristine image you have of her, she started pointing fingers and calling me a

Noemi spun around, nearly jumping out of her skin, only to find Patricia returning from work.“Hello, Miss Blumberg,” Patricia said, offering a polite smile.“For heaven’s sake,” Noemi replied, her voice slightly strained as she tried to suppress her lingering arousal. “What do I have to do to get people to stop calling me ‘Miss’?”Patricia let out a soft laugh, stepping closer to give the visitor the customary three kisses on the cheeks. “Alright, then. If you want to be our friend, so be it.”“We almost have to be,” Noemi said, smoothing her skirt. “I came here to clear up any doubts your mother might have regarding her book.”Patricia paused, looking genuinely surprised. “What about her book?”“Well, we’re going to find a way to get it adapted for TV,” Noemi explained. “Given the length of the manuscript, it’s practically begging for a miniseries, don’t you think?”Patricia’s eyebrows shot up. “That is a massive step, Noemi.”“Exactly. And my father wants to help,” Noemi added, tes

Walter spun around to find Charles and Emmanuelle standing there, looking absolutely grim. He jumped, his heart skipping a beat; his parents looked like they had just crawled out of a slasher movie — the sole, battered survivors of a masked killer.“Whoa! You scared the life out of me!” Walter exhaled, clutching his chest. “Why do you two look like that?”“And you actually have the nerve to ask?” Charles exploded, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple.“Our rights were violated!” Emmanuelle added, her voice reaching a dramatic crescendo. “That interrogation was straight out of the Gestapo playbook!”Walter shook his head, refusing to buy into the theatrics. “Life is tough, even for people like you. If you hadn’t spent every waking moment hating Linda, I never would have told the police I suspected you.”“Son, we hate Linda with every fiber of our being,” Charles stated coldly. “But that doesn’t mean we want her dead!”“Exactly!” Emmanuelle chirped. “After all, if we kill Linda,