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Bethwel frowned. "Who?" Margaret's eyes drifted into the past. "A young inspector." "He worked with Grace." "He believed the law existed to protect ordinary people." "What happened to him?" Margaret lowered her head. "He disappeared." Joel looked at her sharply. "Name?" Margaret answered quietly. "Inspector Daniel Midila." Alex froze. The world seemed to stop. His breathing became shallow. "...Midila?" Margaret slowly turned toward him. "Yes." Alex's voice cracked. "That was..."

Another voice pierced the silence among the three. Simultaneously, they turned toward the source, each reacting differently to the presence of the newcomer: Leonard diverted his gaze to mask his displeasure. Chateau froze, recalled Giraud's voice when he talked about her execution—back then, in Leonard's room. She slightly stepped back, and Leonard just noticed it so he walked forward to kept Chateau behind his back “Giraud!” Meanwhile Tethia exclaimed in happiness. Only then did Chateau recognize him as Giraud Maxence, a 37-year-old man infamous for his harem of women at Rosemount Estate. Among them were Madison, Amber, and Tethia—just three of the seven women under his sway.

"Mas Suma...." *****

Unbeknownst to her, Evan approached the bed, his gaze fixed upon Aubrey's peaceful countenance. Morning* Aubrey found herself toiling away in the kitchen, despite the presence of household staff. One of the young maids, unfamiliar with everyone's preferences, sought Aubrey's assistance. Amidst her tasks, Aubrey's phone buzzed, revealing a message from John, Mr. Evan Cooper's driver. It conveyed Evan's desire to accompany her somewhere. Aubrey swiftly prepared herself, donning her finest dress, even though it paled in comparison to the lavish garments surrounding her.

At the exact same moment, a standard, non-descript taxi pulled up right behind the convoy. Mateo stepped out of the backseat. He had stopped at a luxury hotel downtown hours earlier to wash away the scent of Club Máscara, changing into a tailored navy suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. He smelled intensely of expensive woodsmoke and high-end cologne, his dark hair neatly combed back. "Welcome back, brother," Mateo said, his voice flat and devoid of real warmth as he approached Diego on the steps. Diego didn't even take off his sunglasses. He just let out a cold snort. "Save it, Mateo. Let's just get inside out of this heat."

He muttered a few words to the guard who nodded and allowed us entry. I stepped out from the car and did my button on my suit jacket. The evening sun dimmed as it cast a shadow over everything. I knocked on the front door and waited. Seconds later, the wooden door was cracked opened and a maid stood staring wide eyed. I glanced down at the short lady. "I'm looking for Alessia." I spoke clearly. The lady looked increasingly uncomfortable as her eyes darted anywhere but on me. "She's not home." She muttered, her Italian accent was heavy.

I laughed relentlessly at his pale, terrified expression, teasing him the entire way down. When the afternoon began to fade, Creed drove us to a high-end Italian restaurant for an early dinner. The second we walked through the glass doors, the atmosphere shifted. Nervous eyes darted toward us, and patrons subtly moved out of our path. Even though the dining room was packed, the maître d' rushed over to accommodate us instantly. "Good evening, sir," the man greeted, practically trembling. "A table for two," Creed ordered.

I picked up some magazines that were on the coffee table and stared at them, looking at the latest fashions, missing my old, comfortable life as a millionaire. I looked again at the clock on the wall and was startled to see that it was already fourteen o'clock at that moment, I'd been there for four hours and the meeting still hadn't finished? I got up, stretched my body, and went over to Clara's desk, I didn't want to be intransigent, the girl had guaranteed me a job, but I needed to know if it was going to take any longer.