Katrina organized her personal items and toiletries with deliberate care, arranging them neatly inside the drawers beneath the marble sink. She wasn’t invading Patricio’s space, nor claiming it as her own.Each movement carried the grace of someone who respected her partner’s territory. When she opened a drawer and found his razors and aftershave neatly aligned, she closed it immediately, choosing instead a vacant one where she placed her bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and the creams she used for her face.The bathroom was filled with the sound of running water. Behind the glass partition that rose only halfway up the shower wall, Patricio rinsed the shampoo from his dark hair.The evening light slanted through the blinds, catching droplets of water that slid down his chest.“I think I’m going to like it here, darling,” Katrina said, a faint smile curling her lips as she glanced toward him.“I’m glad,” he replied, his voice softened by the hiss of water. “Especially after you agreed

Katrina and Patricio sat side by side at the small table, sharing a quiet dinner of lasagna.Not the frozen kind from the supermarket, but one Patricio had crafted himself from fresh ingredients, using nothing more than a microwave and his own ingenuity.“Mmm,” Katrina murmured after the first bite, savoring it. “Delicious, darling.”“Thank you,” Patricio replied with quiet pride, his eyes gleaming. “At least we have to be good at something, right?”Katrina chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure there are more things you’re good at... just waiting to surprise me.”“I hope so,” he said, matching her tone, though the edge of his smile betrayed nerves he didn’t understand.After a moment, Katrina reached for her phone to take a photo. She angled the plate, adjusted the wine glass for symmetry, and snapped the shot before uploading it to her social feed. As the app refreshed, she frowned lightly, a thought crossing her mind.“You know,” she said casually, “I don’t have Celia added on my profile.”Patric

Next day, Monday.In the master suite at Ferro House, Mark Ferro woke up as the sound of his alarm filled the room. He stirred, stretching lazily before glancing toward the other side of the bed.Briana was still asleep, her dark hair cascading over the pillow, her breathing calm and delicate. Mark’s hand darted quickly to the nightstand, silencing the alarm before it could fully rouse her.He lingered for a moment, watching her shift slightly under the sheets. A quiet smile curved his lips. Carefully, he circled the bed and reached for her phone, deactivating her own alarm as well.“Today,” he murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “you’re going to rest, my love. Just as you deserve.”Downstairs, the house had already come alive with the muted energy of a Monday morning. Mark descended the grand staircase, immaculately dressed in a crisp shirt and tie, his jacket draped casually over one arm.In the vestibule, he found Regis and Rubem deep in conversation, unaware

Whoever had break into the garage must have thought Mark was just another one of those arrogant rich men who flaunted their wealth, the kind who equated self-worth with the price tag of their possessions.But Mark Ferro was nothing of the sort. He had no qualms about driving something modest when the occasion called for it, and that morning, practicality prevailed over prestige.He chose the Chevrolet, a sturdy, unremarkable vehicle, to go to work, while Everton remained behind, inspecting the other cars.“Call Regis and tell him what happened,” Mark instructed firmly. “There must be an explanation for this.”“Certainly, Lord Ferro,” Everton replied, bowing his head slightly.“And not a word of this to Lady Ferro,” Mark added, stepping into the car. “She needs her rest.”“Yes, sir!” Everton said quickly, lowering his head once more.Mark shut the door, started the engine, and drove off.The morning traffic in Braspolis was unusually kind to him. Every light turned green just in time,

Mark sat behind his desk at Glamour headquarters, the picture of composure and authority. He worked, focused on a series of reports that required his approval.His attention, however, shifted when his phone buzzed sharply: a message notification that pulled him from the screen.It was from Regis. Mark immediately unlocked the device and read: “Everton didn’t find anything. The open garage door remains a mystery.”His expression hardened, a shadow falling across his face.He typed a swift response: “Continue investigating, and make sure this never happens again.”If anyone had placed something inside Briana’s car, he would never forgive himself.Karl entered the room just then, still carrying the faint irritation of their last disagreement, = Mark’s insistence that the new assistant be male.“Are we calm now?” Karl asked, half-smiling.Mark looked up, realizing his brow was furrowed. He forced the expression away. “I wasn’t in a bad mood.”“You looked like someone who just sucked on a