The headlines screamed in bold, uncompromising black ink across every newspaper front page and news portal in the country: ARMAND DRAKOV FINALLY DEAD!But inside the Vasconcelos Mansion, the finality of the press had not settled. The mood was gloomy with the sounds of a mother unraveling.Claudia wasn't just crying; she was convulsing on the sofa, a portrait of grief curdled into madness, unable to process the bloody result of her son's engagement party."No, no, NOOO!" Her wail bounced off the high ceilings, a raw, animalistic sound. "What is happening here, for the love of God!"The rest of the family sat in somber silence, respecting the gravity of death if not the person who died.Althea sat in her armchair like a statue carved from obsidian, dressed entirely in mourning black, her spine rigid."Honey, I am so sorry," Gilson murmured, looking diminished and stripped of his usual arrogance. "But we need to accept reality.""What reality?" Claudia snapped, her head whipping around,

Christopher paused, letting the silence last a little longer. He weighed his next words carefully, knowing how callous the truth might sound when speaking of the freshly dead."If I admit that I'm not entirely shattered by Katrina's death," he said slowly, meeting Dalila's gaze, "would that make me a heartless brother?"Dalila adjusted a spray bottle on her cart, choosing her words with diplomatic precision. "It depends on how you look at it. You can be sad for the loss of a life, and you certainly didn't wish for her death."But you are also aware that she willingly walked into danger with the intent to murder. If Katrina weren't dead right now, she would be in handcuffs.""Exactly," Christopher sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Either way, we lost Katrina a long time ago. I think... I think I always knew it would end something like this.""Regarding your plan to stay single," Dalila said, shifting the tone to something lighter, trying to pull him out of the dark, "don't worry t

The living room of Jake Brett’s apartment had been transformed into a makeshift studio, a tangle of cables and lighting rigs snakes across the floor.Mary Ellen sat in a plush armchair, waiting while the production crew tweaked the final settings.Opposite her, Jake looked every inch the leading man of Times of Glory. Gone were the casual clothes; he was sharp in a tailored shirt and tie, his hair styled to perfection.Beside him sat Celia. She wore a pinstripe suit that screamed executive authority, yet there was a softness to her posture, a magnetic pull that kept her leaning slightly toward Jake. The chemistry wasn't just for the cameras; it was palpable in the air."Are we clear?" Mary Ellen asked, smoothing her skirt."We can start," Celia replied, her voice steady.The cameraman counted down, and the red tally light blinked on."Dearest viewers of Glamour," Mary Ellen began, her professional smile beaming. "I am Mary Ellen Diaz, and today we are broadcasting from the beautiful h