In the solemn quiet of the Vasconcelos Mansion’s living room, the conversation between uncle and nephew pressed on with some gravity that neither could escape.“Nephew,” Sandro began, his tone surprisingly gentle, “first of all, let me tell you that I’m glad you’ve decided to bring this matter up.”Christopher blinked, caught off guard. “Glad? What do you mean?”Sandro leaned forward, folding his hands. “We never truly received an explanation for why you returned to the university while that unpleasant situation was still unfolding.”Christopher did not hesitate. “No need for polite words, uncle. You can say it plainly. It was during my clumsy attempt to accuse Mark of cutting the brakes on my car.”“You acted wrongly, Chris,” Sandro said, cautious now, measuring each syllable. “We always assumed you ran back to the university in disgrace, too humiliated after being exposed.”Christopher leaned in, his eyes sharp. “Do you really want to know what happened, uncle? I didn’t flee, terrif

The great luncheon at the Vasconcelos Mansion, held in honor of Christopher, was drawing to its end as dessert was served. Around the long polished table, conversation lingered with the weight of family histories and unspoken rivalries.From his seat, Christopher allowed his eyes to wander toward Patricio and Katrina, who now comported themselves openly as a couple. He shook his head in disbelief. Not long ago, it had been James who occupied that role at the family table.“Is there a problem with your chocolate truffle tart, my grandson?” Althea asked with her usual sharp attentiveness.Christopher straightened at once, masking his thoughts with a practiced smile. “Not at all, Grandma. It’s delicious. I only hope it doesn’t ruin the abs I’ve worked so hard for.”Gilson chuckled, slapping his knee. “Not at all, son! You’re just like I was at your age.”“Looooong, long years ago,” Nadir remarked dryly.That was enough to ignite Claudia’s temper. “What is your problem, you shameless harl

Regis had managed to reach Rubem just in time, urging him to investigate Julian’s whereabouts.Wearing his usual gray suit, Rubem approached the Paradise Club with deliberate caution, scanning the surroundings like a man on a covert mission. He unlocked his phone and studied the glowing screen.On one of Julian’s social media profiles, there was a recent post: a picture of him with a male friend and a rather attractive woman, the location of the club proudly tagged beneath it.Rubem smirked. “Seems our friend decided to mark his location, just in case he doesn’t manage to get out of that woman’s bed again.”But when he finally drew close enough to see the place for himself, his jaw nearly dropped.The Paradise Club, despite its grandiose name, was far from formal. It was open-air, casual, alive with chatter and laughter.The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, and the heat had persuaded many guests to wander in wearing little more than swimsuits. Men in shorts, women in bikinis, the

Back to the poolside of the Paradise Club, Julian lounged between Adalberto and Melinda. The three reclined in beach chairs, watching the restless crowd drift in and out of the water.A few seats away, unnoticed by them, Rubem sat sprawled in his own chair, his eyes sweeping the scene like a silent observer of chaos.“That girl’s a knockout,” he murmured to himself, lips curling into a sly grin. “I wonder if she’s the one who’ll wreck Julian by next week, or if that honor goes to the other guy.”Julian, oblivious to Rubem’s remark, was doing his best to calm his nerves before his meeting with Nadir.He tried to distract himself by studying the people around him.The majority were young, his age or slightly older, chatting, laughing, and slipping away in pairs toward the shaded pavilions that lined the inner area of the club.Every few minutes, a woman would approach one of the lounging men, whisper something, and the two would vanish behind the columns.Julian’s brow furrowed. The Par

Julian sat motionless beneath the blinding afternoon sun, his eyes fixed on the inflatable tunnel wobbling at the far end of the Paradise Club’s pool area. It had clearly been designed for children, bright, soft, and harmless.Yet now it was being conquered by grown men in their twenties and thirties, all of them far too large for it, thrashing and wriggling through as though the tunnel were some test of masculinity. The thing shuddered and quaked, inflated walls bulging and trembling as the muffled groans and cries of the trapped echoed from within.He felt the sting of regret twisting in his chest. Waiting for Nadir here, of all places, suddenly seemed like a terrible mistake.Beside him, Adalberto spoke with the unbothered arrogance of a man who had never experienced shame.“The woman I’ll spend the night with,” he boasted, reclining comfortably, “has serious money. Not the first time, of course. That’s why I’m confident I’ll soon have my own loft.”“Good for you,” Julian murmured