Before Antonio could respond, Liora’s mother added her voice to the earlier proposal, reinforcing both the gravity of the Ortega family’s offer and the fact that Liora had apparently promised she would marry no one else but Antonio. “Antonio Morris,” she said, her tone both warm and firm, “we have made you an offer that few would have the chance to receive. Our connections, our international networks, the resources that come with them—these are not small opportunities. And as you know, Liora has already told us she will accept no other. If you accept our proposal, the benefits for Bellagio Pharmaceuticals, and for your own ventures, would be substantial.”Antonio listened carefully, his mind fully engaged with every nuance of her words. Obviously, they still hadn't grasped the extent of how influential Antonio was, if not they wouldn't think they were doing Antonio any favour. Instead, Antonio would be doing their family a favour by marrying Liora. Antonio felt a strong tug of

For a few seconds, no one spoke. The silence stretched, heavy and deliberate, as though each member of the Ortega family was carefully weighing Liora’s words, turning them over in their minds. The soft hum of the chandelier above seemed louder than usual, its glow reflecting off the polished surfaces around them. Finally, Liora’s uncle cleared his throat, the sound sharp enough to cut through the stillness.“If Antonio truly has another woman in his life,” he began slowly, choosing his words with care, “then we would like to know who she is. Not out of malice,” he added, lifting a finger slightly, “but out of understanding. If we are to deal with Antonio—whether in business or in family matters—we must know every influence that surrounds him. Nothing should be left to assumption.”Liora’s mother nodded in agreement, her expression thoughtful rather than confrontational. “Yes, Liora,” she said gently but firmly. “We are interested in knowing this woman you mentioned. It would not h

One of the uncles broke the silence first. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers interlaced as his sharp eyes fixed on Victor. His voice was low but edged with intensity, the kind that demanded answers rather than invited them.“Victor, you’ve told us the source of his power is a shirt. But which shirt exactly? Antonio owns countless expensive outfits. Tailored suits, designer shirts, rare fabrics from all over the world. Which one are we talking about?”Another cousin did not wait for Victor to respond before adding his own concern.“And how does it work?” he asked quickly, his tone urgent. “Is it only when he wears it that he becomes powerful? Or does the power stay with him even after he takes it off? We need clarity.”Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, low voices overlapping as heads nodded in unison. These were not idle curiosities or academic questions. Every person present understood that if they were to move against Antonio, there coul

The moment the three men stepped fully into Antonio’s bedroom, whatever restraint they had shown downstairs vanished. Their eyes swept the room with sharp intent, no longer pretending indifference or disinterest. This was the space they believed held the secret that made Antonio Morris more than just a man. The air itself seemed charged with expectation as they crossed the threshold, their focus narrowing until nothing else existed.Without exchanging words, they spread out instinctively, moving with the coordination of men who had done this many times before. One headed straight for the wardrobe, his steps purposeful, his jaw set. He yanked the doors open with force, the hinges creaking softly as the polished wood swung wide. His hands plunged into the neatly arranged clothes, pushing shirts and jackets aside with growing impatience. Expensive fabrics brushed against his fingers, but he showed no interest in value or design—only in what might be hidden among them.Another man

Antonio’s mansion did little to calm the nerves of the two men waiting outside. The leader, pacing back and forth, glanced repeatedly at the front door, his brow furrowed in growing frustration. It had been over half an hour since their companion had entered the house to confront Antonio, and there was still no sound of movement, no sign of struggle, no indication of what was happening inside. The silence pressed down on them like a weight.“This is taking too long,” the leader muttered under his breath, stopping mid-step. His eyes darted toward the door again, searching for any hint of action. “He should have been done by now.”The other man, visibly anxious, shifted from foot to foot, his hands trembling slightly. “Maybe he’s… uh… taking his time?” he suggested, attempting to mask his growing fear with uncertainty. His voice sounded hollow in the crisp night air, and even he could hear the unease creeping into his tone.The leader shook his head, irritation flashing in his eyes