So one warm Saturday evening, at their private resort, Steven finally decided it was time. The Kahuna family's personal resort was one of the most secluded properties Steven owned. Surrounded by lush gardens, towering palms, manicured lawns and the calm blue waters beyond the private beach, it was the perfect place for a small celebration. There were no reporters, no business associates and no unnecessary guests. Only family and the people Steven and Jennifer genuinely considered close. The entire place had been decorated for the occasion. Soft lights hung between the trees. White flowers covered the tables. Tiny arrangements of baby's breath were placed everywhere, and near the center of the garden stood a beautifully decorated table with a small white cake. At the center of the cake was one word. PHOEBE. Jennifer stood beside it, holding their daughter. She looked beautiful. Motherhood had softened her somehow. There was a new calmness in her expression, and ever

The celebration continued long after the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon. The private resort had been transformed into something almost magical. Warm lights glowed between the palm trees, their reflections shimmering across the swimming pool, while soft music drifted through the gardens. Beyond the manicured lawn, the ocean moved gently against the private shore, creating a peaceful rhythm beneath the laughter and conversation. But the center of attention remained the same. Phoebe the little princess of the Kahuna family. ***** Harrera had begun to understand that the greatest danger was no longer Andrew's disappearance itself. It was being connected to it. The Andreas family was asking too many questions. Raphael had become increasingly methodical, Emiliano increasingly suspicious, and Thiago was watching every movement around Juliana with the kind of vigilance that made Harrera uncomfortable even from a distance. So Harrera changed his routine. He stop

For several minutes, the conversation remained harmless. Juliana spoke about something one of her brothers had said earlier, Harrera laughed, and Raphael listened quietly. But Harrera knew Raphael too well. The eldest Andreas son wasn't someone who asked difficult questions immediately. He waited. He watched. He allowed people to become comfortable. And then he struck. After the waiter left, Raphael placed his hands loosely on the table. "Harrera, can I ask you something?" Harrera met his eyes. "Of course." Raphael's voice remained gentle. "And I want you to understand that I'm not accusing you of anything." Juliana looked between them. "What is it?" Raphael glanced at his sister before returning his attention to Harrera. "Andrew." The smile disappeared from Juliana's face. Harrera's chest tightened. Raphael continued, "You've been around Juliana since he disappeared. You've helped her. You've spent time with her. You've told her you're looking for him.

For several seconds, neither Harrera nor Don Marcelo spoke. The atmosphere inside the study had changed completely. What had begun as another conversation between father and son had suddenly become something far more serious. Don Marcelo rose from his chair. "How certain are you?" "Not certain enough." Harrera showed him the message. His father read it once, then again. "Who sent this?" "One of the men watching the location." "Did they identify anyone?" "No." Don Marcelo handed the phone back. "Then don't panic." "I'm not panicking." "You are thinking like a man whose secret is about to become public." Harrera's jaw tightened. "My concern is Andrew." His father stared at him. "That is exactly what concerns me." Harrera looked up. "What does that mean?" "You've become emotionally attached to the situation." "I'm concerned because someone may hurt him." Don Marcelo walked toward the window. "That wasn't your concern when this began."

Nearly a month. Andrew had stopped counting the days after the third week, but he knew it had been close to a month since the hotel room, since the sudden intrusion, since everything he knew about his life had been ripped away from him. At first, he had been chained to the chair. Now, strangely, he wasn't. His wrists were free, his ankles were free, and he could move around the small room whenever he wanted. But the freedom was an illusion. The door remained locked from the outside, the walls were solid, and there was only one window... a narrow opening high above him that allowed a thin stream of daylight to enter... but even that window was locked. Andrew had stood beneath it countless times, staring at the sky through the glass. Sometimes, he could see nothing but a patch of blue. Other times, darkness. Occasionally, he heard birds. Those tiny sounds had become strangely precious. They reminded him that there was still a world outside. A world where Julian