The next morning, the mansion was eerily quiet as Armando strode through the halls, his mood already sour. The events of the past few days weighed heavily on his mind, and when he pushed open the door to the women’s room, expecting to find them inside, his patience snapped. The room was empty.
The crumpled bedding and scattered toys from the previous night painted a picture of chaos, but no one was there. His jaw clenched, his thoughts racing. “Where the hell are they?” he barked to one of the maids passing by.
“I-I think they went to the garden,” the maid stammered, shrinking under his glare.
Armando’s temper flared, his mind immediately jumping to the worst possibilities. The garden? The most exposed part of the estate? He stormed down the hall, shouting orders into his earpiece
