"Take good care of me, and you can have whatever you want."
Eddy's voice was low and magnetic, sliding into Blanche's ears and striking her heart like a thunderclap.
He was going to help Jeannette's family.
Blanche couldn't bear the thought of this—Eddy, the man she loved most, was about to help the very people she hated. Her mother would never rest in peace.
She remembered when Eddy had been her whole world, when she loved him so fiercely she would have given up everything for him. How could she have fallen for him? The regret ached in every bone; her heartbreak left her unable to breathe.
She refused to fall here.
She would take her mother's ashes and leave. She would make those who hurt her mother pay.
Now was not the time to reveal everything.
Her stomach churned. She pressed a trembling hand against her aching heart and stumbled down the stairs. The golf club slipped from her grasp, clattering against the steps.
"Who's downstairs?" Eddy's angry shout echoed from above, followed by hurried footsteps.
Blanche made it to the front door, clutching the frame as she doubled over and vomited.
A figure appeared in the middle of the road.
She froze.
After six long years, she never imagined they would meet again like this.
A man stood tall and straight, like an age-old pine, his features sharp and chiseled, his gaze piercing as though he could see right through her. He looked unchanged—except for the deep tan of someone who spent his days outdoors.
In her heart, Blanche whispered silently: Mentor.
He had been the Director-General's most brilliant protégé, the legend of their organization, the man she once admired more than anyone.
Fernando Reese.
Their eyes met across the distance—so much left unsaid, and yet everything understood in silence.
They entered the coffee shop in the villa's entertainment wing, one after the other, still separated by several tables, stealing glances from afar.
In the corner stood a spinning dartboard.
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