He woke to the sound of something glass crashing. His eyes shot open, heart thundering in his chest. For a moment, he thought it was part of the dream he had been having. But then came the sound again, and this time a thud, followed by a sharp cry.He threw the blanket aside and scrambled out of bed. The screams pierced through the thin walls, each one shredding him inside. His mother’s voice.“Mum!” he yelled, running barefoot down the corridor.The door to her room was slightly open, swinging from the force of a blow inside. He pushed it wide and froze at the sight before him. Fredy had his mother by the arm, yanking her like a rag doll, his fists landing heavy and merciless.“Stop!” Xavier shouted, his voice breaking.Fredy turned, eyes blazing, face twisted in rage. “Get the hell out of here, boy!”Xavier didn’t move. He darted forward, fists clenched, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He swung at Fredy’s side, hitting him with all the strength his small frame could muster. It

The knock was sharp and impatient.Martha pulled the thin blanket tighter around her shoulders as she shuffled to the door. Her cheap hotel room smelled faintly of old cigarettes and disinfectant, and the air conditioner rattled weakly above. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Not here. Not in this part of town.When she opened the door, the last person she expected to see stood before her, a tall, elegant woman in a fitted coat, heels clicking against the hallway tile. Her hair was neatly pinned back, her lipstick flawless, her eyes sharp. She looked like she belonged in a five-star lobby, not this rundown hotel.“Uh… you must have the wrong door,” Martha muttered.The woman smiled faintly and stepped forward as though invited. “I don’t think I do.”Martha blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”“Lock the door,” the woman said calmly, sweeping past her into the dim room. “We need to talk.”Martha hesitated. “Who the hell are you?”“Irene.” She sat gracefully on the edge of the bed, crossing her

“I’ve got something,” Irene said with her silky tone.Antonio’s study was dimly lit, just a single lamp casting shadows across the room. Irene leaned against the edge of his desk, her long legs crossed deliberately, her eyes fixed on him with that sly, knowing glimmer. Antonio didn’t look up immediately. He poured himself a drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. “You always ‘have something' and half the time, it’s nothing.”“This isn’t nothing.” She leaned forward. “I found her. A woman who claims to be Xavier’s mother.”That got his attention. Antonio finally lifted his head, his sharp eyes narrowing. “His mother?”“Yes.” Irene’s smile widened. “Not just some woman. The woman. With a past… disturbing enough to make your skin crawl. She practically admitted she could give me all the dirt Xavier has been burying since he was a child. And for the right price? She’ll spill everything.”Antonio sipped his drink. No reaction. “Disturbing past and dirty secrets, sounds like a so

The private lounge smelled of leather, tobacco, and wealth. Vargas was already seated, dressed in a crisp white suit that gleamed under the amber lights. A glass of red wine rested in his hand, though he swirled it lazily instead of drinking. His eyes — sharp, cold, heavy with power — lifted as Antonio and Irene walked in.“Finally,” Vargas said, his accent thick but his English smooth. “Antonio. I thought you had forgotten Spain exists. Three months of excuses. Three months of silence.”Antonio smiled as if the words didn’t sting. He adjusted his cufflinks and took the seat across from him. “I’ve had matters to handle in New York. Serious matters. But I’m here now. That should count for something.”Vargas leaned back. “It counts for nothing. You break a deal, Antonio, it is no different than spitting in my face. I do not take that lightly.”Irene, who had been standing just behind Antonio, slid gracefully into the chair beside him. Her presence was deliberate, poised — she leaned for

Amber balanced two heavy bags in her arms as she pressed the doorbell. She waited. Silence. She tried again. After a long pause, the door creaked open, and Martha appeared, her face lined, her eyes shadowed by suspicion.Amber smiled warmly. “Hi. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”Martha blinked at the sight of her. “Amber? I… wasn’t expecting anyone.”“I know,” Amber said gently. “I thought I’d bring you a few things.” She raised the bags a little. “Groceries. Some clothes. Just… little things you might need.”Martha’s eyes darted to the bags, then back to Amber’s face, uncertain. “Why?”Amber stepped inside without waiting for permission. “Because you deserve them.”Martha hesitated before shutting the door behind her. She followed Amber to the table, watching as Amber carefully unpacked fruit, bread, toiletries, and finally a neat stack of new clothes. Martha touched the fabric of a blouse with trembling fingers.Her voice cracked. “You shouldn’t have. I'm fine, the house alone is eno