Harrera sat beside her, leaving enough space between them. "You don't have to talk about him," he said. Juliana stared ahead. "Everyone says that." "Because everyone knows you're hurting." She swallowed. "I don't understand it." Harrera looked at her. "What?" "How someone can love you and simply disappear." The words came out quietly. Harrera's expression changed. He had waited months for this moment. Not because he wanted to take advantage of her pain, but because he had convinced himself that eventually she would see what he believed was obvious. "Juliana," he said softly, "maybe you need to ask yourself whether he loved you the way you thought he did." She frowned. "Don't." "I'm not trying to hurt you." "You don't know what happened." "No," Harrera admitted. "I don't." He looked down at his hands. "But I know what I would have done." Juliana turned toward him. Harrera took a slow breath. "If your father had told me I wasn't good eno

The blindfold was the first thing Andrew felt when he regained consciousness. Darkness pressed against his eyes, but he could tell he was no longer in the same place. The air was different. The vehicle beneath him had stopped moving, and the silence outside was unfamiliar. His hands were restrained, and two men stood nearby. One of them pulled him out of the truck while the other kept a firm grip on his arm. Andrew said nothing. He had learned that silence was sometimes safer than questions. They led him through what sounded like a building before finally stopping. The blindfold was removed. Andrew blinked against the light. Then his expression changed. Kelvin stood in front of him. For several seconds, neither man spoke. Kelvin looked genuinely stunned. His eyes moved over Andrew's face as though he could not believe what he was seeing. "Andrew?" Andrew stared back at him. "Kelvin." Kelvin remained standing in the middle of the room, staring at Andrew as thoug

Kelvin waited until late into the night before beginning his investigation. He couldn't ask questions openly. Don Marcelo had placed Andrew in his custody for a reason, and Kelvin knew better than to make it obvious that he was digging into Andrew's disappearance. So he started quietly. One message. One name. Juliana Andreas. He simply asked someone he trusted to find out whether Juliana was safe and what had been happening around her since Andrew disappeared. The answer came hours later. 'She's safe, she is Thiago's daughter no one would dare harm her without consequences.' Kelvin stared at those two words for a moment. That was what mattered. He sent another message. And Andrew? The response didn't come. Kelvin waited. Five minutes. Ten. Nothing. He was about to put the phone away when it finally vibrated. Don't ask me about him again. Kelvin's expression hardened. That wasn't the response of someone who knew nothing. He typed: Why?

Andrew had been watching Kelvin for days. Not because Kelvin had mistreated him. If anything, that was what made everything harder. Kelvin had kept his distance, followed Don Marcelo's orders, and made sure Andrew was treated as a prisoner. But he had also spoken to him like an old friend whenever they were alone. Andrew knew Kelvin cared. And that was why, when Kelvin entered the room that evening, Andrew finally decided to ask. "Kelvin." Kelvin stopped. Andrew stood from where he had been sitting. "Let me go." Kelvin's expression immediately hardened. "No." "You haven't even heard me." "I know what you're going to say." "Then hear me anyway." Kelvin remained silent. Andrew stepped closer. "You know me. You know I wouldn't hurt you. You know I don't belong here." "I know." "Then let me walk out." Kelvin looked away. Andrew continued, his voice becoming more urgent. "You don't have to come with me. You don't have to fight Don Marcelo. Just unlock

Jennifer had just finished arranging the flowers in the sitting room when the telephone rang. The sound cut through the quiet of the Kahuna residence, sharp and sudden. She glanced at the wall clock. 2:17 p.m. Steven was supposed to be in his study, buried beneath the mountain of documents he always claimed would swallow him alive if he didn't finish them. She had teased him about it that morning, and he had responded with one of those rare smiles that always made her forget whatever argument she had prepared. The telephone rang again. Jennifer wiped her hands on a small towel before walking toward it. She picked up the receiver. “Hello?” For several seconds, there was nothing. Only silence. Jennifer frowned. “Hello? Who is this?” A faint breath came through the line. Then a man's voice finally spoke. Low. Calm. Anonymous. “Mrs. Kahuna?” Her fingers tightened around the receiver. “Yes. Who's calling?” “You're Jennifer Kahuna, aren't you?” “Y