I called Travis to give him precise orders: go pick up Daniela Piñeiro in Paris.
Once everything was coordinated, I went down to the dining room. And there she was.
Bianca.
Smiling, carefree, counting with her hands, shrinking back amidst laughter that didn't reach her eyes.
Those eyes that looked sad.
A justified, legitimate sadness that gnawed at my ribs from the inside. I wanted to erase it. Tear it from her gaze like you pull out a thorn.
"Since when do you care about the happiness of another being?" my conscience asked, that stupid inner voice that never shuts up.
I didn't know. I hadn't the faintest idea.
However, I was sure of one thing: Bianca deserved to be happy. And once her wounds healed, she would be. I would make sure of it.
"Good morning," I greeted her, my
