Inside Edmund's office at the Sterling Cultural Hall, the tense and revealing conversation between Edmund, Karl, and Bryce continued to unfold under the dim glow of the overhead light.“You were really going to tell everyone who you are?” Edmund asked, his tone sharp with disbelief.“That’s right,” Karl replied without hesitation. “I already told my son the truth, but I didn’t want to stop there. I wanted to come clean to the entire audience — explain why I disappeared all those years ago.”“Cool,” Bryce chimed in, clearly impressed by the audacity of it all.Edmund, however, wasn’t amused. His voice dropped, serious and firm. “Karl, that would’ve been counterproductive. Vicente would’ve hit you with the usual ‘you have no proof,’ and you’d be the one who looked bad.”“I’m not trying to spark a police investigation,” Karl said. “I know that’s impossible. It’s been over twenty years. But Vicente knows he’s not innocent.”“Just that might be enough,” Bryce added thoughtfully. “A chunk o

At the Sterling Cultural Hall, down its opulent corridors now lit with a cold, clinical brightness, Elaine Sterling had taken it upon herself — uninvited — to serve as the hall’s official spokesperson. She stood confidently in front of a swarm of cameras, microphones, recorders, and flashing bulbs, offering a polished smile to the hungry press.“Mrs. Sterling, what really happened?” one journalist asked.With theatrical flair, Elaine responded, “A regrettable accident.”Another reporter, less tactful, shot a blunt question. “Did your husband want to kill the pianist?”Elaine’s demeanor didn’t flinch. “If that ends up in your paper, expect a court summons, young man.”The questions grew more pointed. “Everyone knows your husband and the pianist’s son despised each other.”She raised an eyebrow. “If that were the case, wouldn’t the spotlight have fallen on Nathan Gouveia’s head instead?”The journalists exchanged uneasy glances — her logic, though bold, was hard to refute.“Was your hus

Late at night at Andrade Clinic, inside the maternity room, Andreia lay resting, cradling a beautiful, angelic baby boy wrapped in a soft blue blanket. Her expression was a mixture of wonder and peace as she gazed at the tiny life in her arms."Isn’t he adorable?" she asked, her voice soft and tender.Vicente, now officially a doting father of two, couldn’t stop smiling.“He takes after his mother, thank goodness,” he said proudly.Nathan leaned closer, teasing, “Hey, I think he’s got a few features from his handsome big brother too.”Laughter filled the room. Nearby, Dr. Jardim chatted with the nurses, congratulating them.“Well done, nurses,” he commended.“The labor wasn’t easy. The mother’s not exactly young,” one of them replied.Dr. Jardim glanced toward Andreia and said reassuringly, “She’ll be fine. She’s already been through it once — with her older son.”Standing by the doorway, Dr. de Paula smiled at the scene. Vicente noticed and waved him over.“Dr. de Paula, thank you fo

That morning, inside Edmund's office at the Sterling Cultural Hall, tension clung to the air like humidity before a storm. Edmund and Bryce stood, their bodies restless as they waited for updates. The silence between them didn't last long.“Do you think Matt’s going to get away with this, Dad?” Bryce asked, breaking it with a low voice.Edmund sighed, clearly tired of the insinuations. “What are you talking about, son? Matt is innocent. He didn’t plan any of this.”“Do you know that, or do you just believe it?” Bryce’s voice was sharp, pressing.“I believe it with every fiber of my being,” Edmund replied, firm but weary.Bryce looked skeptical. “I don’t know, Dad. Matt has every reason to want Vicente’s blood.”Edmund raised an eyebrow. “Bryce, Vicente just became a father again. Don’t you think it would be unbelievably cruel — inhuman — for Matt to make a move now?”Bryce wasn’t convinced. “Was Vicente being merciful when he plotted the death of Mr. Sterling and robbed Matt of a fath

Inside the Sterling Cultural Hall, Tiffany walked briskly through the corridors, her face etched with concern over the recent events. The place felt quieter than usual — too quiet for a Sunday — but the tension in the air was enough to make her skin crawl.Suddenly, her phone rang. The sharp tone sliced through the silence, and she quickly pulled the device from the pocket of her blazer.“Hello, Mauricio?” she answered.Meanwhile, outside the Andrade Clinic, Maurício — better known as Dr. de Paula — grinned as soon as he heard her voice.“How’s my favorite little sister doing?”“I’m fine,” Tiffany replied, forcing a tired smile he couldn’t see. “Working on a Sunday...”Maurício sounded shocked. “What happened?”“What do you think?” she snapped, trying not to sound too bitter. “Trouble. As usual.”“Hey, you’re at the Cultural Hall, right?”“Yeah,” she confirmed with a sigh. “And I’m sorry again for getting you that ticket.”“Oh, come on... I actually enjoyed the concert. Got to help th