Alejandro stumbled through the front door of the Morales estate well past midnight, his face a canvas of fresh bruises layered over the ones Diego had given him. His expensive shirt was torn and bloodstained, his ribs screaming with each breath, and his hands trembled uncontrollably.The household staff—maids preparing for the night shift, a butler arranging tomorrow's schedule—stopped and stared at him with wide eyes."Mr. Alejandro, are you—"He ignored them, staggering past with single-minded determination. He knew where his father would be at this hour—in his study, indulging in whatever vices kept him occupied when his wife wasn't around.Alejandro threw open the study doors without knocking.His father sat behind the massive mahogany desk, a glass of expensive scotch in one hand while two young women in revealing black lingerie draped themselves across him. The women couldn't have been older than twenty-five, their laughter filling the room with artificial gaiety.The smile on h

Isabella sat on the balcony with her mother, exhausted down to her bones. Wedding planning folders were spread across the glass table between them—vendor contracts, guest lists, seating arrangements, timeline spreadsheets. The evening air was cool, but it did little to ease the tension headache pulsing behind her eyes."The florist confirmed they can have everything ready by Saturday," Isabella said, checking off another item on her list. "And the caterer said the menu tastings went well. They'll finalize the portions tomorrow."Carmen nodded, sipping her wine. "See? I told you it would all come together. Five days is tight, but we're making it work.""I know, but—" Isabella paused, rubbing her temples. "Everything is happening so fast. Sometimes I wonder if we should have waited a few more weeks, done this properly—"The balcony door burst open with such force it slammed against the wall.Alejandro stumbled through, his clothes torn and bloodied, fresh bruises layering his face, his

Diego arrived at the Caruso villa just after dawn, the sun barely cresting the horizon. He carried a small leather bag containing Gael's compounds and wore the jade amulet beneath his shirt, its protective energy already humming against his skin.The security at the gate recognized him this time and let him through without the humiliating pat-down, though their expressions remained hostile. Marco waited at the entrance, his arms crossed, his face unreadable."You're early," Marco said flatly."The old man doesn't have time for me to be fashionably late."They walked through the mansion in tense silence. When they reached the master bedroom, Diego noticed Lucia standing beside the door, her gloved hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him—surprise mixed with something else. Fear? Anger?"I didn't think you'd actually come back," she said, her voice sharp."I gave my word.""Words are cheap."Diego didn't respond, simply pushed past her into the bedroom.

Lucia's face contorted with rage, her composure shattering completely. "This is absurd! You can't possibly believe this manipulative bastard's wild theories!"Diego remained perfectly still, his expression calm as always. "They're not theories. They're observations based on evidence.""Evidence?" Lucia's laugh was shrill, desperate. "You have no evidence! You're just an outsider trying to sow seeds of doubt and chaos in our family! Grandfather, please, don't listen to him!"Vittorio stood silent, his restored strength doing nothing to ease the weight of what he was hearing. His eyes moved between Diego and his granddaughter, searching for truth in the chaos."Then explain something to me, Lucia," Diego said quietly. "Why do you always wear gloves?"Lucia froze, her hands instinctively moving behind her back. "That's—that's none of your business! My fashion choices have nothing to do with—""It's not about fashion." Diego's gaze was piercing. "You wear them because your hands are damag

A week had passed since the confrontation at the Caruso villa. Diego had spent most of that time monitoring news of Lucia's whereabouts—which remained frustratingly nonexistent—and helping Vittorio implement new security measures. But tonight, Esperanza had insisted on something different."You need to stop brooding and actually live a little," she'd said that morning. "One evening. Just dinner. That's all I'm asking."Diego had agreed, more to stop her persistent requests than from any real desire to socialize.Now they sat in the private lounge of an elite restaurant, sequestered behind frosted glass that shielded them from curious eyes. The space was intimate—soft lighting, plush seating, a view of the city lights through floor-to-ceiling windows.Esperanza looked stunning in a deep emerald dress that complemented her complexion, her hair styled elegantly but not overly formal. Diego had dressed simply—dark slacks, a crisp white shirt, no tie.As exquisitely plated dishes arrived—e