They reached the underground parking lot, where the noise resumed: screeching tires, honking horns, engines revving in panic.Cars scraped against pillars as their owners fled in blind terror.No one paid attention to the vehicle half-hidden behind a dumpster, rocking back and forth as if caught in a storm.Through the windshield, a flash of movement revealed one of the company janitors: broad-shouldered, flushed, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, sweat glistening down his chest.He tried to sit up, breath ragged, eyes wide with alarm. But before he could escape, two manicured hands — Celia’s — seized his shoulders and pulled him back down with ravenous determination.The car began to shake harder, its rhythmic sway swallowed by the din of fleeing engines.******The streets of Braspolis were a blur of blue and red lights as the sun sank behind the skyline. The rhythmic whir of the Aurelia Military Police helicopter cut through the evening air, a sound that filled everyone below with a mi

Julian moved swiftly along the hallway of Ferro House, slipping in and out of the guest rooms with growing impatience. He was on a very specific mission, one he found equal parts mischievous and righteous.“Let’s hope Regis is the one to stumble upon that shameless woman,” he muttered under his breath with irony.The plan forming in his mind was wickedly simple: to “suggest,” ever so innocently, that Regis assign Karl and Luana to the very guest room where Nadir was currently “devouring” the poor construction worker.The thought alone made Julian smirk with satisfaction.“Mrs. Vasconcelos has certainly taken a liking to the handyman’s… drill,” he whispered to himself, eyes gleaming with mischief.The prospect of catching Nadir in the act thrilled him: not only would it put an end to her relentless flirtations toward him, but it would also expose her true nature to the rest of the Vasconcelos clan. The humiliation alone would be worth it.As he reached the final door at the end of the

At police headquarters, Lieutenant Ribeiro stood before a bank of cameras, his face drawn with exhaustion. He hadn’t even managed a shower before the press conference was called. Mary Ellen stood nearby, offering quiet moral support as reporters fired off questions.“Lieutenant,” one journalist called out, “when will the police arrest these extremists?”“We have several leads,” Ribeiro said, his voice firm despite his fatigue. “But I can’t share details that might compromise the investigation.”“Would you classify these attacks as terrorism?” another reporter pressed.“Absolutely,” Ribeiro said. “These criminals have gone far beyond the line!”Mary Ellen leaned forward. “What’s the situation at the residential complex?”“Unfortunately,” Ribeiro replied, “the apartments above the parking area were damaged. Civil Defense has evacuated the residents and is conducting inspections.”“And what about Karl Carvalho, the main target?” someone asked.“He’s safe,” Ribeiro said. “He’s staying wit