"But I hope you won’t poison him too."The words slithered out of Marion’s mouth like venom, coated in amusement but laced with something far more insidious.A hush fell between the three of them, tension crackling in the air like a brewing storm.Joaquin wasn’t stupid—he could hear the taunt, the insinuation, the arrogance dripping from every syllable. But what unsettled him more was the way Andrea stood frozen beside him, her nails digging into his arm as if she was holding herself back from doing something reckless.Then, to his surprise, Andrea smirked.“Why would I?” she said coolly. “You are not him.”Marion’s expression

Marion’s body slumped against the floor, his once-pristine suit now wrinkled and stained with blood. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his face barely recognizable—swollen, bruised, his lower lip split from one of Joaquin’s punches.Yet Joaquin didn’t stop.His knuckles were raw, but he didn’t feel the pain. Not yet.“Joaquin, stop!”Andrea rushed to him, her hands grabbing at his arm, but her voice barely registered in his ears.His vision was locked onto Marion—the pathetic excuse of a man who had spent years thinking he was untouchable. Joaquin had seen enough of men like him before. Arrogant. Cruel. Believing their status shielded them from consequences.Joaquin’s fist tightened again. He was going to land another blow—one final punch to make sure Marion understood.“Joaquin! You’ll kill him!” Andrea pleaded, her grip tightening on his arm.The adrenaline in his veins roared, drowning out everything else.Then another voice cut through the chaos.“What is happening here?”It wasn

The moment Andrea stepped into the grand mansion, a heavy wave of familiarity washed over her. The polished marble floors, the towering chandeliers, the scent of expensive cologne lingering in the air—it was all the same.Nothing had changed in the past five years.And yet, it felt different.Colder.She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to keep her chin high as she strode forward. She wouldn’t let them see her weakness.At the center of the vast foyer stood her father—Emilio Johnson, the ever-imposing governor. Dressed in his signature dark suit, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, his sharp eyes locked onto her the moment she entered.His expression was unreadable, but Andrea could already tell what was coming.Trouble."You finally decided to come home," Emilio said, his voice calm, but there was a weight to it—a warning.Andrea met his gaze without flinching. "I didn’t decide anything. Your men dragged me here!"His lips pressed into a thin line. "You shouldn’t

Serena's cold sweat dripped from her forehead, but her hands never faltered. Every movement was precise, swift, and sure. She hadn't even changed out of her dress before she began operating on Joaquin—there simply wasn’t time.Her mind was racing, but her focus remained on him. The bullet wounds weren’t fatal, but they were still dangerous. It infuriated her that Joaquin was in this state because of Andrea. The moment she saw them together, she knew—Andrea would bring nothing but trouble to Joaquin. She always did.Serena exhaled sharply as she pulled out the last bullet lodged in his left arm. Malvar could have killed him, but he hadn't. Maybe, deep down, he still respected Joaquin.The moment she finished suturing his wounds, she let out a tired sigh. Joaquin's vitals were stable. He was safe—for now.Serena stepped back, exhaustion settling into her bones. She peeled off her gloves, washed her hands, and finally made her way out of the clinic.And the first person she saw?Andrea.

Joaquin opened his eyes to the dim glow of the bedside lamp, his body still sore but no longer weak. The dull ache in his shoulder reminded him of how close he had come to death, but he refused to dwell on it. He had been in worse situations before—physically, at least.He flexed his fingers, testing his movements. His muscles were stiff, but he could manage. He wasn’t about to sit around and wait until morning when he was more than capable of leaving now.With a grunt, he pushed himself upright, exhaling sharply as pain rippled through his body. He rolled his shoulders, testing the stitches Serena had placed with precision. They held. Good.His gaze flickered to the door, his jaw tightening. He needed to get out of here. He had already stayed longer than he should have.He swung his legs over the side of the bed and braced himself before standing. His body protested the movement, but he ignored it. He had been through worse.Then, as if the universe was intent on stalling his depart