Olivia spent the drive to the Jimenez estate in quiet dread. The car wound through the private road leading to the property, passing manicured trees and stone lanterns that lined the path like silent sentinels. The evening air was cool, almost ceremonial, as if the world itself recognized the power housed within these walls.
When the gates opened, Olivia’s breath weakened. The Jimenez home stood with the posture of old dynasties, every line of its architecture speaking of legacy and unbroken influence. It was not loud in its wealth. It was commanding. A house built by people who had nothing left to prove.
Simon walked beside her, steady and unreadable, the perfect product of the world she was entering.
Inside, the family waited.
Arturo Jimenez stood near the center of the room, straigh
