The leader looked at Cynthia without emotion. "Take us inside your house." Cynthia blinked. "What?" "You heard me," he replied calmly. "Take us inside." She shook her head immediately. "I'm going nowhere." Her voice became firmer. "I don't even know who you people are. You can't just come here and order me into my own house." The leader remained silent. "I asked you a simple question," Cynthia continued. "Who are you?" No one answered. Instead, the leader gave a slight nod. Before Cynthia could react, two of the men grabbed her by both arms. "What are you doing?" she screamed, struggling violently. "Leave me!" Her sandals scraped against the ground as they dragged her toward her own front door. "Help!" she shouted. "Somebody help me!" But the isolated neighborhood remained unusually quiet. The men forced the door open and dragged Cynthia inside. She nearly lost her balance before they shoved her onto one of the living room chairs. Breathing heavily, she glared at

Mary's body went completely still. The men surrounding her exchanged glances. For several long seconds, none of them spoke. Then their leader slowly bent down, placed two fingers against Mary's neck, and waited. Finally, he withdrew his hand and looked at the others. "It's over," he said flatly. "She's gone." A broad smile spread across the face of one of the men. "So the job is complete." The leader nodded. "It is." Instead of showing remorse, the group seemed strangely relieved, as though they had finally completed an assignment that had taken far longer than expected. One of them laughed quietly. "I was beginning to think she would never stop fighting." Another shrugged. "She was tougher than she looked." The leader pulled out his phone. "Our employer deserves to know immediately." He scrolled through his contacts before tapping one particular name. Emily. The phone rang only once. She answered almost immediately. "Speak." The leader smiled. "It's done." Emil

Antonio remained seated in his office long after the call had ended. The silence that followed seemed louder than any conversation. He stared at the phone in his hand, replaying every second of the brief call with Cynthia. He had heard enough to know the depth of her pain. Every sob that escaped her lips had driven a knife deeper into his heart. He had wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, hold her close, and assure her that everything would be all right. Instead, she had ended the call. Antonio slowly lowered the phone onto his desk and released a long, weary sigh. "So even now," he murmured to himself, "you're still shutting me out." He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He understood why Cynthia was keeping her distance. Too much had happened between them over the past few weeks. The misunderstandings, the accusations, the separation—it had all built a wall that neither of them seemed able to tear down. Now Mary's death had only made things worse. Ant

The weekend finally arrived. For the first time in days, Cynthia stood before a mirror with a calm expression. The grief over Mary's death had not disappeared. It still lingered in her heart, surfacing whenever her thoughts drifted to the cousin who had been like a sister. But Phil had persuaded her that remaining indoors would only deepen her sorrow. "You don't have to stay out long," he had told her earlier that afternoon. "Let's just attend the party for a while. It might help take your mind off everything." After some hesitation, Cynthia had agreed. She wore a graceful emerald-green evening gown that flowed elegantly to the floor. Though her eyes still carried traces of sadness, the dress restored a little of the confidence she had lost over the previous weeks. Phil arrived shortly afterward. He was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and matching bow tie. "You look beautiful," he said with a smile. Cynthia offered a modest smile in return. "Thank

The atmosphere remained tense. Several guests had stopped walking altogether, curious to see how the confrontation would end. Cynthia stood between Antonio and Phil, hoping to keep the situation from getting worse. Antonio took a slow breath. He had no intention of starting a fight. He simply wanted to prevent Phil from getting any closer after seeing how furious he had become. Antonio slowly raised one hand in a calming gesture. "Phil," he said evenly, "there's no need for this." Before he could finish speaking, Phil reacted. He immediately reached forward and firmly grabbed Antonio's raised wrist. The movement was so sudden that several nearby guests gasped. Phil's grip was tight. His eyes burned with anger. He stared directly into Antonio's face. "Don't." His voice was cold. "Never raise your hand toward me again." Antonio remained calm despite the firm grip. "I wasn't trying to hit you." "I don't care." Phil tightened his grip slightly before releasing Antonio's