Two younger men in suits exited the room as I entered, both giving me cursory once-overs before they disappeared down the hall.

  “What the hell is going on?” I demanded, skipping all pleasantries.

  Mateo’s eyes roamed over me, a slow, deliberate appraisal that made my skin prickle with awareness. “Good morning to you, too,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. He leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving mine. “You were supposed to sleep in. And you walked a little too fast for my liking. Clearly, I went too easy on you last night.”

  I shot him a glare, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. “Why did you steal my car?” I demanded, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

  Mateo laughed, a real, genuine laugh that caught me off guard. “Stole? More like recycled. I did something good for the environment.”

  I snapped, “That wasn’t your decision to make.”

  He grinned, completely unfazed by my anger. “Don’t tell me you were attached to it. Elena, you will be my wife. I would sooner cut off your legs so driving wasn’t an option than allow you to drive that disappointment to engineers.”

  “Do you hear yourself talk?” I snapped, disbelief and anger warring within me.

  Mateo’s grin widened, unfazed. “No, but I’ve been told I have a lovely voice.”

  Mateo’s grin faded slightly, though the amusement in his eyes remained. “Shut the door so we can talk properly,” he instructed.

  Without hesitation, I turned and kicked it shut with the heel of the wedges he’d left for me. The sound echoed in the room as I faced him again.

  He laughed lowly, his gaze lingering on me. “I like this side of you, very cute.”

  He circled behind his desk, opening a drawer with deliberate ease. From it, he removed a woman’s bag that made my breath catch. It was black and crocheted, adorned with various pins. Eva’s bag. I hadn’t realized she still had it.

  Mateo dumped the contents onto the desk without a second thought. Condoms, lipstick, lotion, feminine wipes, blood-tinged cash, and a small black book spilled out in a chaotic mess.

  “Where—where did you get that?” My voice was shaky, my mind reeling.

  “So you recognize it?” His tone was casual as if we were discussing something trivial.

  I stared at the bag, my heart pounding. “That’s Eva’s… But where did you find it?”

  Mateo picked up the small black book, turning it over in his hands before circling back around the desk. He leaned against the front of it, his gaze fixed on me. “Do you know how many people died because of this? My men have been searching for it for months."

  “I don’t even know what that is. What the hell does that have to do with your name on my father’s estate and my car being torn apart?” My voice was louder now, panic creeping in.

  “Well, it was found in your car. Under the passenger seat,” he said smoothly, watching my reaction closely.

  I froze. She hadn’t put that there. “I’ve never seen that before. Just the bag.”

  “Don’t you think I already know that? Give me some credit," Mateo's voice was calm, yet edged with a certain gravity. He held up the small black book, his gaze piercing. "The issue is this little book? It’s caused more problems than you could ever imagine."

  “I don’t understand,” I replied, confusion tightening in my chest.

  “The book was in your sister's bag, in your car. Why would she frame you?” he asked, his tone probing as if trying to dig deeper into a truth I couldn’t see.

  Anger flared up inside me, sudden and hot. Eva may have been many things, but she would never use me as a scapegoat. I refused to even entertain the thought. “Eva would never do that to me,” I snapped, my voice firm. “I don’t know what’s going on or what the fuck you’re playing at, but I want nothing to do with it. Or this.” I tossed the folder toward him. It fluttered open as it fell to the floor, the papers scattering across the polished surface.

  Mateo clicked his teeth at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Your father would be so very disappointed to hear that," he remarked, the words cutting deeper than I expected. And he knew it.

  I swallowed hard; my throat suddenly dry. That comment had more of an effect on me than it should have, and he could see it in the way my resolve faltered for a moment.

  "Does that bother you, Elena?" he asked, his voice almost a purr. "Letting your pai down?" The way he said the word in Portuguese made it feel more intimate and more personal. He sighed, glancing down at the scattered papers. "I'll help you with those daddy issues. Along with finding your sister."

  I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "I don’t have daddy issues," I said firmly, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. It was a lie, and we both knew it, but I wasn’t about to hand him that power over me. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing just how deep that wound ran.

  I had been a daddy’s girl through and through—he was my hero, the one person I thought would always be there for us. When he sent us away with a promise of coming for us soon, I believed him. Then came the radio silence and eventually, the night Aunt Molly broke down in the kitchen with me when I learned he and my mother were dead.

  Now that I was older, I understood that fear had driven him. Our father never would’ve ripped our family apart unless he was trying to protect us from something far bigger than we could have understood. The why still haunted me—what had he been so scared of that he felt he couldn’t protect his own daughters? What could make him sever our bond so completely?

  That unanswered question gnawed at me, resurfacing in moments like this when Mateo’s words cut through my defenses. He didn’t know the half of it, didn’t know the pain of losing a father without ever really losing him. But it didn’t matter now. My father was gone, and whatever he had been afraid of, Mateo was now part of that shadow.

  His eyes gleamed with amusement like he could see straight through me, peeling away every layer I tried to protect. A small smile was on his lips, but he didn’t push the issue. He didn’t need to. He had already made his point.

  The fact that I had denied it only confirmed what he already suspected. I regretted charging in the way I did, letting my emotions take control when I needed to be logical. Mateo’s words undoubtedly held a hint of truth, but now I was left with more questions than answers.

  “All I want is to find my sister,” I said, my voice betraying the exhaustion and desperation I felt.

  Mateo circled back around his desk with calm, deliberate movements. He dropped the small black book back into the drawer and retrieved a small velvet box. After locking the book away, he approached me, holding the box as if it were something precious.

  "She's in the city," Mateo said, his voice smooth and almost comforting. "In fact, she’s much closer than you can imagine."

  My heart skipped a beat at his words, my breath catching in my throat. A mix of hope and fear surged within me.

  I wanted to believe him, to hold onto the idea that Eva was within reach, but the fear of being manipulated, of this all being part of Mateo’s game, kept me from fully embracing it.

  My eyes flicked from the velvet box in his hand to his face, searching for any sign of deception, but his expression was unreadable. The possibility that Eva was so close, after all this time, was almost too much to process. It felt like the ground beneath me had shifted, leaving me unsteady and unsure of what to do next.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. “Where is she?”

  "Now, that's not how this works. I promised to help you find your sister in return for you being my wife in every way possible. And now, we've got a few more kinks to work out."

  "You can't just change our agreement!" I snapped, my voice trembling with anger.

  "Oh, my beautiful girl," Mateo said softly, a dangerous edge to his voice as he stepped closer, "I can do whatever the fuck I want so long as I keep my word."

  "But you know where she is," I protested, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "You aren't helping me find her."

  "Of course, I am." He loomed over me, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. His hand reached out, brushing against my cheek with a possessive tenderness that sent a shiver down my spine. "I'll be the only one telling you how to find her." His fingers trailed down, sending an electric current through my skin. "I've known where Eva was long before your uncle approached and asked me to fund her charade of a funeral."

  That hit me like a punch to the gut. It explained why he had been there, why he seemed to know so much. He’d funded the entire thing. Why hadn’t I considered that before?

  My family was living off hail-marys, or so I thought. They were only sustained because of Mateo's money. But why? Why had he offered? It was all too much to process at the moment.

  Mateo circled around me, his presence suffocating. He gently draped my hair over one shoulder, his touch sending another involuntary shiver down my spine. I heard the lid of the box snap open behind me, and a moment later, I felt something cool and delicate against my neck.

  He clasped the necklace in place, the chain settling on my skin. I glanced down, catching sight of the pendant—a small, intricately designed card, the Queen of Diamonds, encrusted with tiny diamonds that caught the light and matched the engagement ring weighing heavily on my finger, creating a set that felt as much like a shackle as it did jewelry.

  “What is this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I stared down at the pendant resting against my collarbone.

  “Tradition,” Mateo replied, his lips brushing the back of my neck in a lingering kiss that sent a wave of heat through my body. Before I could react, he turned me around to face him, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. He placed one hand on the small of my back, pulling me just close enough to feel his warmth but not close enough to touch.

  “Tradition?” I echoed, trying to steady my racing heart.

  “Yes, tradition,” he said softly, his thumb tracing small circles against my spine. “In my family, we give this to the woman who is to be our queen, our partner. The Queen of Diamonds is a symbol—a promise if you will.”

  “A promise of what?” I asked, struggling to maintain some semblance of control under the weight of his gaze.

  He smiled, but there was something almost sinister behind it. "That's for you to find out," he murmured, his voice low and intimate as he cupped my jaw and brought his lips to mine. The kiss was possessive, a reminder of the control he held over me, and for a moment, I couldn’t think of anything else but the feel of his mouth against mine.

  When he finally pulled away, leaving me breathless and disoriented, he spoke again. "I've left something for you on my desk. I'm sure it will help you feel closer to your sister," he said, his tone casual as if he were mentioning something as mundane as a grocery list. Then, dropping his hand from my face, he took a step back, letting me go.

  "I have to go now," he continued, his eyes never leaving mine. "When you're done, have your friends come in and join you for breakfast. I'll be back by lunch."

  And with that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there, reeling from the whirlwind of emotions and the weight of the necklace now hanging around my neck.

  My gaze drifted to his desk, curiosity, and dread battling for dominance as I wondered what he could have possibly left for me that would bring me closer to my sister.

  Whatever it was, I knew it wasn’t going to bring any comfort. I fingered the necklace Mateo had just placed around my neck, the weight of it heavy, both physically and emotionally. The cold metal pressed against my skin, a constant reminder of the chains that were tightening around me. His control, his presence—it was all-consuming, and I could feel it with every step I took toward the desk.

  I tried to block out the scattered remnants of Eva’s life that lay strewn across the polished wood. Lipstick, lotion, blood-stained cash—each item was a piece of her that I had lost long before she went missing. My focus was on the bag itself, the last tangible connection to my sister, not on the grim evidence of what she had been involved in.

  As I lifted the bag, a wave of her favorite perfume enveloped me. It was so strong, so achingly familiar, that for a moment, I could almost pretend she was there with me. I could hear her voice, her laughter—see her eyes sparkling with mischief as she shared some secret. The scent was like a cruel reminder of what I had lost, of the sister I once knew, now reduced to this—an empty bag and a thousand unanswered questions.

  I clenched my eyes shut, willing myself not to break down, not to give in to the overwhelming grief and anger that threatened to consume me. But when I opened them again, reality slammed into me with a force that took my breath away.

  That’s when I noticed it—a thin tablet lying face down on the desk, partially hidden beneath the other items.

  It hadn’t been visible before, or maybe I just hadn’t seen it in my haste to reclaim some piece of Eva. But now, there it was, impossible to ignore, stark against the wood.

  My hand trembled as I reached for it, my mind racing with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. What was on it? What had Mateo left for me? My heart pounded in my chest, the uncertainty gnawing at my resolve.

  I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to know. But I had no choice. Whatever was on that tablet, it was part of this twisted game Mateo was playing. And I was the unwilling participant, trapped in a web of secrets and lies.

  With a deep breath, I picked it up, my fingers brushing over the smooth surface, dreading what I might find, but knowing I had to see. I had to know. Because even if it shattered me, even if it tore apart the last threads of hope I was clinging to, it was better than being left in the dark.

  There was a passcode on the tablet, a small barrier between me and whatever truth Mateo wanted to reveal. My mind raced as I considered the possibilities. Since he had left it for me about Eva, I decided to try something personal, something that might link us together even in this twisted game—our birth year. I typed it in with trembling fingers, half-expecting it to be wrong, but the screen unlocked with a soft click.

  The background was nothing special, just a basic preinstalled image that told me nothing. There were no apps visible, no clues as to what this tablet was hiding. Confused, I tapped on the browser, hoping it might offer some answers, but it wasn’t connected to Wi-Fi. Another dead end.

  That left one last place to check—images. My heart pounded as I opened the gallery, a feeling of dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.

  I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever I was about to see, and then I tapped the icon.

  The first image filled the screen, and I felt the air leave my lungs in a rush. There she was—Eva, vibrant and alive, staring back at me through the screen. She looked just as I remembered, her smile wide and carefree, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of the city she had loved so much. My heart twisted painfully in my chest. For a moment, it was as if she was still here, still the sister I had lost long before she disappeared.

  The next few images were more of the same—Eva with some girlfriends, laughing and posing for the camera. They were snapshots of her life; of the world she had chosen over the one we had shared. It was a world I had never fully understood, one that had ultimately taken her away from me.

  Then I swiped to the next image, and my breath caught in my throat.

  There, with his arm draped casually around Eva, was the man whose severed hand Mateo had sent me. His face was unmistakable, his eyes dark and unreadable as he stared into the camera, oblivious to the fate that awaited him. My sister stood beside him, her smile just as bright, completely unaware of the darkness that loomed around her.

  I hesitated before swiping again, a cold dread settling over me. The images so far had been painful, but nothing I couldn’t handle. But I knew Mateo—he wouldn’t have left this tablet for me just to show me happy memories. There was something else, something I wasn’t going to be ready for.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering the strength I needed to face whatever came next. When I opened them again, I swiped to the next image, steeling myself for the worst.

  And then I saw it.

  He looked like Mateo.

  The resemblance was so striking that, for a split second, I thought it was him. My heart stuttered the idea that my sister had been with the same man who now claimed me as his own too much to comprehend.

  But then, as I studied the image more closely, I noticed the subtle differences—the few silver hairs threading through the man's dark locks, the lines etched into his skin that spoke of years Mateo hadn’t yet lived. And then there was the thick wedding band glinting on his finger, a stark contrast to the way those same fingers gripped Eva’s naked hips with possessive intimacy.

  I felt bile rise in my throat as I realized what I was looking at. Eva had taken this photo herself, capturing their reflection in a mirror on the ceiling of whatever fancy hotel room they were in. The entire scene was grotesque in its casualness, the way it turned something deeply private into something flaunted, something to be captured and kept. The reflection was almost artful, but it was nothing more than a twisted trophy of the life my sister had been living, a life I never truly knew.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the image. It was disturbing in ways I didn’t have the words to express, a sickening violation of everything I thought I understood about my sister. I had known she was wild, that she had embraced the chaos of the city in ways I never could, but this? This was different. This was dark and dangerous, a world far removed from the one we had grown up in.

  The man in the picture, so eerily similar to Mateo, felt like a warning—a sign that my sister had been caught up in something far more sinister than I had ever imagined. And the fact that she had taken this photo herself, that she had been a willing participant in whatever was happening, made it all the more horrifying.

  I hesitated, my finger hovering over the screen. Part of me wanted to stop, to throw the tablet away and pretend I had never seen any of this. But I knew I couldn’t.