The following day dawned bright and peaceful, almost as though the world had forgotten the danger lurking beneath its surface. Juliana Andreas was already in the kitchen before noon, wearing a cream-colored apron over her casual clothes. The older housekeeper watched in quiet amusement as the heiress carefully stirred a pot of mole sauce, occasionally tasting it before adding another pinch of spice. "You've been coming here quite often these days, Señorita," the elderly woman remarked with a warm smile. Juliana laughed softly without looking up. "Is that a bad thing?" "Not at all. It's just... this kitchen hasn't seen you cook since you were a little girl." Juliana smiled to herself. "I guess someone gave me a reason to start again." The housekeeper understood there was more behind those words than Juliana was willing to say. She simply smiled and returned to kneading dough. An hour later, Juliana carefully packed everything into an insulated basket: warm tortillas w

Thiago slowly removed his reading glasses. "What report?" "It's about Raphael." Thiago frowned. "What about him?" Emiliano's jaw clenched. "He's been helping Juliana meet Andrew Tate." The room fell completely silent. For a long moment, Thiago simply stared at his younger son, as though waiting for him to admit it was a joke. "...Explain." Emiliano took a slow breath. "He followed Juliana to the hotel today." "He discovered Marcelo's men were watching." "He mobilized our security team without informing me or you." "And he extracted both Juliana and Andrew before Marcelo's men could get to them." Every sentence struck Thiago harder than the last. The veins along his temple slowly became visible. "Raphael..." His voice was dangerously quiet, "did what?" Emiliano nodded once. "I confirmed it." Thiago slowly rose from behind his desk. His towering frame suddenly made the room feel much smaller. "And you're certain?" "I wouldn't have come her

The botanical garden seemed untouched by the chaos that had consumed their lives. Children laughed as they chased pigeons across the stone pathways. Elderly couples strolled beneath rows of towering jacaranda trees, while the gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers through the afternoon air. It was peaceful. Painfully peaceful. Andrew Tate and Juliana Andreas continued walking hand in hand along the winding path surrounding the lake, neither of them eager to break the silence between them. For the first time in what felt like forever, no one was chasing them. No gunfire. No threats. No frantic phone calls. No arguments with Thiago. No Don Marcelo. Just... them. Andrew glanced sideways at Juliana and smiled. "What?" Juliana asked, catching him looking. He shook his head. "I'm just trying to memorize this." She laughed softly. "Memorize what?" "You." She looked at him with amused disbelief. "I'm standing right here." "I know."

Harrera remained in his father's study long after Don Marcelo had walked out. The room had fallen silent. The scattered photographs still lay across the polished desk, each one capturing Juliana Andreas smiling beside Andrew Tate. Harrera picked up one of them. His thumb slowly brushed across Juliana's face. His expression softened in a way no one in Marcelo's organization had ever seen. "Juliana..." He whispered her name as though it had become a prayer. He closed his eyes. And, like always, the memories came rushing back. Not of the woman she had become. But of the little girl she used to be. Years ago... Long before the blood feud between Thiago Andreas and Don Marcelo consumed everything... There had been a small international kindergarten in Mexico City attended by the children of influential families. Back then, neither Harrera nor Juliana understood power. Or revenge or hatred. To them... the world had been wonderfully simple. He remembered

The Andreas estate was unnaturally quiet that evening. Usually, the mansion pulsed with life... the echo of footsteps across polished marble, the murmured conversations of house staff, the constant movement of security personnel. Tonight, however, silence lingered in every corridor, heavy enough to suffocate. Ever since Juliana returned from the United Kingdom, peace had become a stranger within those walls. She and her father had spoken countless times. But they had never truly communicated. Every conversation ended the same way—raised voices, wounded pride, and another wall built between them. Thiago Andreas had reached a point where he was exhausted. Not because he regretted standing against Andrew. But because, somewhere beneath the anger, he missed his daughter more than he was willing to admit. Standing alone in his study, his gaze drifted to the framed family portrait beside him. Raphael stood proudly at his right. Emiliano, younger and already wearing