The drive to the hotel hosting Lady De Leon’s birthday party went too smoothly. No strict security checks, no suspicious glances, everyone they passed seemed genuinely unaware of who Tyson was.And that was exactly what made him uneasy. The smoother the surface, the deeper the trap. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not tonight.When the car finally stopped, Tyson was the first to get out. He walked around and opened the door for Anna.The woman stepped out gracefully, her perfume faint but sweet, the kind of scent that lingered without permission. Just one glance was enough for Tyson to know: Anna Mendes never showed up anywhere uncalculated.As they walked side by side, Anna tugged lightly on the cuff of his suit sleeve, signaling him to lean closer.Tyson looked at her for a beat before lowering his head.“What is it?”A subtle smile curved her lips, barely there, but enough to be dangerous. In a calm, almost playful tone, she whispered, “I just remembered… I have quite a fe

Mateo didn’t answer right away. The man stared at Tyson for several seconds, as if trying to see through the face of the youngest son he no longer recognized.There was something different about the way Tyson stood, the tone of his voice, even the way his eyes moved across the room.No longer the coward who used to avoid problems instead of facing them, no longer the gloomy boy who would sit in the corner pretending the world didn’t exist.Mateo could see it clearly: there was no trace of hesitation or guilt in Tyson’s eyes, only a calmness that made others uneasy for reasons they couldn’t quite name.“Well, that’s good then,” Mateo finally said, his voice low but edged with steel. “As long as you’re not here to cause trouble, your presence won’t be an issue.”On the surface, the words sounded polite, almost measured. But anyone perceptive enough could feel the chill behind them. It wasn’t the welcome of a father, it was the warning of a patriarch to an uninvited guest.A quiet remind

The pale blue glow from the computer screen illuminated Tyson’s face, casting the small room in an eerie isolation from the rest of the world.No sound filled the air except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the steady clicks of his fingers dancing across the keyboard.Outside the window, the city lights of Pueblo flickered like stars forced to live inside cold concrete and glass, artificial, distant, and utterly false.On the screen, dozens of open windows displayed snippets of articles, private forums, anonymous messages, and data reports from a system directly linked to the elite social network.Every sentence that sparked debate, every rumor that tarnished the De Leon name, all of it began here, in this small room, from the hands once shackled by the very family now trembling beneath the weight of its own reputation.A faint smile curved Tyson’s lips. He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the monitor showing a graph of public opinion shifts, a red curve of trust plu

The hallway of the villa was as silent as an expensive grave. The chandeliers glittered above, but offered no warmth. Their light fell across the white stone walls and marble floors, casting a cold, dazzling reflection that hurt the eyes.Tyson walked slowly, as if tracing through a museum filled with rotting memories. Every step echoed faintly behind him.He stopped in front of a door. The handle was cold beneath his fingers, just like before, when he used to stand there, waiting for someone to call his name. No one ever did. Back then, he had thought that maybe, someday, someone might knock back from the other side. Now he knew, no one ever would.That room no longer belonged to him. The walls had been repainted, the carpet replaced, every trace of what had once been his erased. No photos, no remnants of life. As if time and the family itself had agreed to erase every proof that Tyson had ever existed in that space.But the memories lingered, of a thin boy sitting in the corner, sta

Tyson continued, his tone lowering into something softer, almost polite but carrying the weight of a veiled threat.“If my room isn’t ready when I come back,” he paused, his eyes sweeping over each of them one by one, “then maybe... I won’t attend the event.”He raised an eyebrow slightly, adding in a casual yet cutting tone, “And I suppose... everyone would be curious why the De Leon family’s son isn’t invited to the dinner that’s supposed to celebrate his own return, wouldn’t they?”Silence pressed down on the room. Martin clenched his jaw slowly, clearly trying to restrain himself from saying something reckless. Mateo’s fists tightened, his glare burning with restrained hatred.Tyson, however, only offered a faint smile, one that never reached his eyes.“Good,” he said finally, turning back toward the door. “I’ll take that as enough time for you to decide what matters more.”He opened the door and walked out without waiting for a response, leaving the three of them in heavy silence