Chapter 23
That night, after the heated moment in Cleopatra's office, Louis walked toward his small house on the outskirts of the city with mixed feelings. His lips still burned from Cleopatra's kiss, and his mind spun endlessly. Cleopatra was no ordinary woman. She was a storm, tearing apart every boundary he tried to maintain.
When he arrived home, Louis opened the old wooden door, which creaked slightly. The small room was dark, illuminated only by a dim overhead lamp. His mother, Linda Toreto, was asleep on the worn-out sofa, wrapped in a thin blanket that barely kept her warm against the night's chill. The house lacked luxurious furniture—just a rickety dining table and a wooden shelf holding a few old belongings that had survived their hard times.
Louis walked to the tiny kitchen
