Eddy's POVThe plane dips low over the glittering city lights of São Paulo. Olivia leans against the window, eyes wide, lips parted slightly in wonder. She looks beautiful in the half-light of the cabin, even if she’s wearing combat boots and a bulletproof vest under that leather jacket. I’ve seen her kill a man without blinking but in moments like this, she just looks... soft. Unreachable, but soft.I shift in my seat and try to focus on the mission. Angela McGregor. Daughter of John Chen. The only loose thread left in a knot Kelvin wants tied and burned. That’s why we’re here.And yet, ever since we boarded this flight, it’s been impossible to ignore the shift in the air between us.“Ever been to Brazil before?” she asks suddenly, her voice playful as she turns to face me.“No.”“Didn’t think so. You’re too... structured. The kind who’d take vacation time just to do target practice in the woods.”I don’t answer.She smirks. “Relax, soldier boy. We’re not here for war. Yet.”I glance

Olivia’s POVBrazil is noisy, wild, and beautifully chaotic.The sun hasn’t even risen yet, but I’m already awake, sipping bitter hotel coffee and staring out at the city of Rio de Janeiro from the narrow balcony. Eddy is still in bed, half-buried in sheets, his arm stretched to where I used to be. I haven’t told him yet, but I didn’t sleep a wink. Something about this place feels off.My phone buzzes on the small table.Finally.I swipe it open and tap the encrypted line.“It’s me,” I whisper. “Talk.”On the other end, my Brazilian contact, Gabriella, breathes heavily like she ran to take the call.“You were right, Olivia. She exists. Her name’s Laura McGregor. Passport confirms it. She’s been living in Santa Teresa alone since her mother passed away last year.”My heart skips.John Chen, you bastard. You really did have a daughter stashed here.Gabriella continues, “She’s working part-time at a bookshop. Has no clue who her father really was.”I lean against the wall, heart racing.

Kelvin's POV The news hits me like a blade through the chest. Eddy is dead.The words echo in my head, over and over, until they drown out everything else, every sound, every thought, every fragment of reason. I sit there, numb, staring at the floor as though the grain of the wood can somehow explain why fate has stolen him from me.Eddy. My brother is everything but blood. The man who stood by me when the world turned its back. The man who risked everything without hesitation because I asked.And now he’s gone.I slam my fist against the desk, the crack of impact reverberating through the room. Rage floods me, but beneath it is something darker, heavier. Guilt. Crushing guilt. Because no matter how I try to deny it, the truth presses against me like a suffocating weight: I caused this.If I hadn’t sent him, if I had gone myself, if I had protected him the way he protected me, maybe… maybe he would still be alive.I bury my face in my hands, choking on the thought. My chest tightens.

The air is heavy with incense and grief. The church is filled with people dressed in black, their faces solemn, but the weight pressing down on me is heavier than anything they can feel. Eddy’s coffin rests at the front, draped in white and gold, flowers laid across it like a final attempt to soften the truth. But nothing softens it. He’s gone. My brother. My right hand. My shadow.I sit in the front pew, silent, stiff, my fists clenched so tightly my nails dig into my palms. Olivia sits a row behind me, her eyes dry but glassy, staring at the coffin as if she’s afraid to blink. She pretends to be composed, but I know her better now. The tension in her jaw, the way her hands grip her bag, the stillness of her breathing it’s heartbreak disguised as strength.Then, Lydia enters. She’s dressed simply, her hair pinned back, her face pale from her long vacation, but her presence feels like an anchor. She came back for this. For Eddy. For me. She slides beside Olivia, her hand brushing hers

The office is silent, but the silence is heavy. I sit behind my desk, stacks of reports in front of me, but I’m not reading them. My mind is elsewhere split between Brianna’s endless attempts to show her worth, Lydia’s quiet distance, and Olivia’s rage that burns hotter than fire.Brianna is trying, I’ll give her that. She pulls investors from Justin’s grasp with the grace of a queen making a chess move. She doesn’t nag me for attention anymore; she lets her actions speak. I see the effort, the way she positions herself, the way she insists she can be more than a woman orbiting my life. But even as she climbs, my attention shifts to the two women closest to me Lydia and Olivia.Lydia is different. She’s colder now. She shows up to meetings crisp, professional, and unreadable. Every word is polished, every glance neutral. If she ever looked at me with warmth before, now it’s gone. She has built walls so high that even I, who once thought I understood her best, cannot climb them. I can’