The humor dropped from Mark’s face instantly. He rose slowly from his chair, the name weighing on him like a stone.“Romulo Ribas... at the station?” Mark’s voice was low, serious now. “You caught him?”Sandro stirred again in the bed. Though he knew he couldn’t move far — his wrists still cuffed, his strength still sapped from the brutal night with Nadir — just hearing Romulo’s name made him want to swing a fist at someone. Anyone.“He turned himself in,” Ribeiro explained. “Told us the prison riot was all a performance to set him free.”Mark exhaled, now understanding the twisted logic. “Let me guess — his boss orchestrated the whole thing?”“That’s what he claims. But he wants something in return before he officially surrenders.”Mark was already forming a reply, about to say he’d handle it. But then his gaze fell on Sandro again.The poor man. Naked, drained, still cuffed to the headboard, and yet — somehow — still smiling with genuine curiosity.Mark sighed. “I’ll call Alan Rocha

Back at Ferro House, in the elegant serenity of the master suite, the conversation was anything but calm. Briana sat on the edge of her seat, her eyes darting between Karl and Luana as they tried to unravel the events that had turned her day upside down.Vargas lingered nearby like a shadow, alert and uneasy, clearly wary of any question that might bring them too close to revealing Lord Ferro’s true identity.“You said those guys wanted to take you to their boss,” Karl pressed. “Are we talking about the same man?”“The same one who sent that witch Viviana?” Briana’s voice quivered. “Oh, Karl...”“That’s enough,” Vargas cut in, more sharply than before. “You’re agitating Mrs. Ferro even more.”Luana turned to him, unimpressed. “Seriously, Doctor? You can go back to your clinic. My friend’s doing just fine.”“I think it’s better if I stay close,” Vargas said coolly. “I don’t quite trust the two of you.”Without another word, he stepped out onto the balcony. Taking out his phone, he type

Night was falling gently over the Braspolis General Hospital.In one of the rooms, Ryan lay unconscious, surrounded by the sterile rhythm of medical equipment. His heartbeats pulsed steadily on the multiparameter monitor beside his bed, while a thin stream of oxygen flowed gently through the tubes nestled in his nostrils. An IV bag hung silently from a metal stand, releasing its medication drop by drop into a vein on his left arm.The door opened with a low creak, and Romulo stepped inside. His movements were slow, almost uncertain, as if each step carried the weight of all the guilt and grief he’d been suppressing.His eyes brimmed with tears that could no longer be held back, and his mouth trembled as he fought to contain the sobs threatening to escape. The hospital was no place for an outburst — but his pain was too great to conceal.Behind him, Mark and Ribeiro entered, escorting him with a quiet, watchful presence. Two other officers remained stationed at the door, hands resting

Upstairs, Lawrence turned off the water and let out a sigh, believing whoever had been at the door had finally left.He needed this night to clear his head — so much had gone wrong lately.He pulled the fogged-up glass door of the shower open to reach for a towel... and froze.There, just outside the bathroom, stood Katrina, smiling lightly as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be in his private suite uninvited.“Jesus Christ!” Lawrence yelped and slammed the shower door shut with such force it rattled in its frame.“Oh, come on, Mr. Sodré. We need to talk,” Katrina called out sweetly. “Your butler didn’t answer the door.”From inside the shower came a muffled, exasperated reply, “Have you still not realized I live alone?!”Katrina raised an eyebrow, her tone playful. “Sounds like you need company.”The glass door slid open again, just enough for Lawrence to peek out with a bewildered expression that clearly asked, Is this actually happening?Katrina, unfazed, let her g

In the study, Regis approached Mark’s desk, powering on the computer that had been in standby. He settled into his chair and began typing, then slipped on headphones and connected to the private communications network of Lord Ferro.Opening a camera feed, he waited for the other side to respond.At the Braspolis General Hospital, Vargas, still acting as a physician, reclined in the small rest room. A surgeon who had spent the entire afternoon operating now snored heavily in one of the beds.Moving quietly away from the sleeping doctor, Vargas lifted his left wrist to reveal a sleek, technological bracelet — the very one Mark had planned to give Celia on their wedding anniversary — and used it to contact Regis.“The situation’s so serious we can’t even talk on the phone?” Vargas asked.“The less we use regular communication, the better,” Regis replied seriously.“Understood. Patient Ryan Ribas is still improving.”“Are you overseeing everything?”Vargas smiled. “Relax. I’ve assigned tw