In the police interrogation room, Luca sat across from two detectives, his expensive suit rumpled, his earlier arrogance replaced with barely controlled panic. His lawyer sat beside him, whispering urgently, but Luca barely listened."I pushed her," Luca admitted finally, his voice cracking. "Okay? I admit it. Esperanza slapped me, I got angry, and I shoved her. She fell and hit her head on the table. But it was an accident. I never meant for her to get hurt that badly.""An accident," Detective Morrison repeated flatly. "You assaulted a woman, caused her to suffer a traumatic brain injury, and then fabricated a story claiming she was having an affair with you. That's your definition of an accident?""I panicked! I was scared! I didn't know what else to do!""And Ricardo Vega's death?" Detective Chen leaned forward. "What about that accident?""That wasn't me!" Luca's voice rose with genuine terror. "I had nothing to do with that! I didn't even know he was dead until everyone started

Vasquez leaned back in his leather chair, a satisfied smile playing across his scarred features as he surveyed the map of Vega holdings spread across his desk. Red pins marked properties, businesses, investments—an empire built over decades by the man who'd once been his mentor."With Ricardo out of the way," Vasquez said, his voice smooth with triumph, "I can finally assume my rightful position as head of Vega Entertainment. That was the whole point, wasn't it? Getting rid of the old man so we could take over all his affairs and do as we pleased."Alejandro stood near the window, his arms crossed, watching his reflection in the glass. Two years of training under Santiago had transformed him from an angry prisoner into something far more dangerous. He'd learned patience, strategy, and most importantly, how to recognize opportunity."There's a small problem with that plan," Alejandro said casually.Vasquez's smile faltered. "What problem?""You're a wanted man, Vasquez." Lucia spoke fr

Isabella stood frozen in her doorway, her mouth hanging open, her keys still dangling from her trembling fingers. The shock of seeing Alejandro Morales sitting in her apartment—alive, breathing, real—sent her mind reeling."Alejandro?" Her voice came out as barely a whisper. "But... but you're dead. The prison break two years ago. They said you died. Your body was never found. I thought—""You thought wrong." Alejandro stood slowly, his movements measured and confident. He looked around her cramped apartment with barely concealed disdain—the cheap furniture, the water-stained ceiling, the single window overlooking a dumpster-filled alley. "Though looking at this place, maybe death would have been kinder."Isabella flinched at his words but finally managed to step inside and close the door behind her. "What happened? Where have you been all this time?""Training," Alejandro said simply. "Learning. Becoming something more than the pathetic man who got thrown in prison because his best f

Diego's eyes remained locked on Alejandro's retreating figure, his entire body coiled with lethal intent. The dark energy from his cursed left hand pulsed with eagerness, ready to be unleashed. Every muscle in his body screamed to chase after the man who'd murdered his father-in-law.Then arms wrapped around him from behind."Diego, no." Esperanza's voice was urgent, desperate. Despite her weakness from the coma, she'd forced herself out of the wheelchair and stumbled toward him. "Please. Don't do this. Not here. Not now."Her touch broke through some of the rage fogging his mind. Diego's breathing came in harsh gasps as he fought for control, fought against the cursed voice urging him to pursue, to kill, to destroy.Around them, mourners had started to notice the commotion. A few heads turned, confused murmurs rippling through the crowd. But most remained focused on the priest's eulogy, unaware of the silent drama unfolding at the edge of the cemetery."He killed your father," Diego

The Vega estate had transformed into a house of mourners. Black-clad guests filled the main rooms, speaking in hushed tones over glasses of wine and plates of untouched food. Santiago moved through the crowd like a ghost, accepting condolences he barely heard, shaking hands he didn't feel.His father was dead. His sister had cut him off. The empire he'd inherited felt like a millstone around his neck rather than a crown.He needed a drink. Several drinks.Santiago was on his fourth whiskey when he noticed her across the room.Isabella Rodriguez stood near the bar, wearing a tasteful black dress that managed to be both respectful and striking. Her dark hair was pulled back elegantly, her makeup subtle but effective. She looked every inch the sophisticated mourner.Their eyes met across the room, and she offered a small, sympathetic smile before looking away.Santiago found himself moving toward her without conscious decision. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the desperation to fe