It was morning. Miguel sat at the table at the guest house where they passed the night.
His fingers were absently tracing the patterns of its surface.
His sister, Elizabeth sat across from him, looking worried and exhausted.
Their butler, Frank, stood silently in the corner with a sympathetic gaze.
“I can’t believe they did this to us,” Miguel muttered, his voice was filled with rage.
His eyes were cold, reflecting the intensity of his emotions. “Every last one of them will pay for what they’ve done.”
Elizabeth reached across the table, her hand gently touching Miguel’s.
“Miguel, brother, please calm down. We have seen too much violence within such a short time. Believe me, I understand your pain, it's my pain too. First, our parents, then our home, but we must think clearly," E
