CHAPTER 11Adrian woke to the quiet of a deep night. No pain in his lungs. No desperate gasp for air. Just the strange, heavy silence of a body that no longer fought itself.He sat up. The clock on the wall glowed softly: 9:30 PM. Dinner time. He’d slept through the day, his mind finally shutting down after churning through the memory of his parents in the woods.That memory had changed something. The hollow space inside him, the one that had always ached with abandonment, was now filled with a colder, sharper substance. Guilt, for ever believing they didn’t want him. And beneath it, a low-burning coal of rage.He dressed slowly, his movements still unfamiliar in this stronger, quieter body, and walked down the long hallway to the dining room.He paused at the double doors, his hand on the cool brass handle. He hadn’t forgiven Rafael for pulling him out of that memory. He took a breath he didn’t need, and pushed inside.His uncle sat at the far end of the long table. Before him was a

CHAPTER 13Adrian walked into the living room dressed in black trousers and a plain, brandless white t-shirt.His uncle was deep in discussion with Miguel. The moment they saw him, Miguel stood immediately and bowed.“Young Master.”Adrian shifted uncomfortably. “Just call me Adrian. I’d prefer that.”“I’m sorry… Young Master. I can’t do that,” Miguel replied gently.His uncle, who had been studying something on the glowing screen of a tablet, finally looked up. His expression tightened into a frown.“Is this what you’re wearing to choose your attire for tonight?”“Of course,” Adrian said, offering an innocent smile. “Is there a problem with what I’m wearing?”“Everything is wrong with what you’re wearing, Adrian,” his uncle said, the frown deepening. “You are the son of Casa Valerio. You cannot dress so… casually.”“Uncle, these trousers have a Dior tag inside. The watch on my wrist is Chanel. These are luxury brands. Where I come from, if I’d owned these while I was with my ex-wife,

Chapter 15The impact was violent. The phone bounced once, skittering across the polished stone. A spiderweb crack spread across the screen, but the device itself remained intact, a testament to its military-grade construction.Adrian stared at the shattered screen, his expression unreadable.The guards tightened their grip and began pulling him toward the exit.He didn't resist.Outside, the afternoon heat pressed down on him. Adrian walked slowly to the SUV, his jaw clenched, his mind cold and clear.He bent down, picked up the damaged phone, and pressed Miguel's contact.The call connected immediately."Young Master?""Be at Galante Couture in five minutes," Adrian said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Anything less than that, and it'll cost you your legs."He ended the call and leaned against the SUV, his eyes fixed on the boutique's entrance.A few minutes later, the VIP doors at the side of the building opened.Adrian's breath stopped.Diego Navarro stepped out, his arm wrapped ar

CHAPTER 17:The black Mercedes-Maybach S680 came to a smooth, silent stop in front of the Palacio Casa Dorada. The hotel was a monument to wealth and power, its facade a masterpiece of neoclassical architecture bathed in golden light.Towering columns framed the entrance, and a red carpet stretched from the glass doors all the way to the curb, lined with velvet ropes and flanked by impeccably dressed security personnel.Adrian stepped out of the vehicle, his mask firmly in place.The world shifted around him instantly.Camera flashes erupted like lightning, a blinding cascade of light that painted the night white. Members of the press lined both sides of the carpet, their lenses trained on every arrival, capturing the faces, or in this case, the masks, of power.A suited announcer stood near the entrance, his voice booming through a microphone as each guest ascended the carpet."Señor Ricardo Mendoza, CEO of Titan Industries!"Applause. More flashes."Doña Catalina Villanueva, Chairwo

CHAPTER 19:Adrian turned to Miguel, his mind already calculating the next move. "Is there a penthouse suite in the hotel?"Miguel nodded without hesitation. "Yes, Boss. The presidential penthouse. It occupies the entire top floor.""Take me there."Miguel led him to a different elevator, one tucked away in a private alcove accessible only by keycard.The doors were polished obsidian, reflecting their images in dark, distorted mirrors. Miguel swiped his card, and the elevator opened with a hushed whisper.The ascent was swift and silent.When the doors opened, Adrian stepped into a world of understated opulence. The penthouse suite was vast, stretching out in all directions with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of Mexico City's glittering skyline.The floors were polished black marble veined with gold. Modern art hung on the walls, pieces that Adrian suspected were originals worth millions.A grand piano sat in one corner, its surface so polished it looked like l