Years Ago
The evening air in the Belmonte estate was thick with a quiet anticipation. Gumamela sat by the grand window in the living room, her hands folded tightly in her lap, the weight of recent days pressing heavily on her. The house, usually filled with murmurs and footsteps, seemed to hold its breath.
Wile entered the room, his expression unreadable but his eyes carrying a new intensity. He closed the door behind him softly and approached Gumamela, who looked up cautiously.
“Mahal,” he began, his voice low but steady, “Just earler, the people responsible for father’s death… they’ve been disposed of.”
Her breath hitched, a mixture of relief and unease swirling inside her. “Disposed of?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded slowly. “Yes. We found them and avenged
