CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The insistent buzzing of my phone pulled me from a deep, dreamless sleep. My hand fumbled over the sheets until I wrapped my fingers around the device. Groggily, I lifted my head, squinting at the screen. The floor-to-ceiling drapes were partially drawn, but not enough to block out the unexpected morning sun.

"Peyton," I murmured, my voice hoarse from sleep. My body ached in a way that reminded me of the intense night before, and I winced as I tried to clear my throat. "Hello?" I croaked out, the sound grating even to my own ears.

"Are you still in the suite?" His voice was sharp, tinged with an urgency that jolted me further awake.

"Yes," I managed, my heart beginning to race at the worry evident in his tone. "What’s wrong?" I asked, my eyes darting over the multiple text messages and missed calls cluttering my notification screen.

"Meet me in the lobby, pronto," he said quickly, his words clipped and full of tension.

Before I could respond, the line went dead. I stared at the phone for a moment, the silence of the room settling around me like a heavy blanket. The events of the previous night were a blur, and I realized with a sinking feeling that I didn’t remember falling asleep. The exhaustion had claimed me completely, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. With a deep breath, I shoved the blanket off my naked body, feeling the cool air of the luxury suite against my skin.

Mateo was gone, leaving no trace of his presence, as if the night before had been a vivid, erotic dream rather than reality. The extreme soreness in my muscles told me otherwise. Pushing aside the lingering fog of sleep, I forced myself to focus. I had no idea what Peyton was so anxious about, but I knew better than to ignore it .

I searched the room, hoping to find some clothes, my mind racing with questions. The dress I’d worn last night was nowhere in sight, and I had a sinking feeling it had been ruined beyond repair.

With a frustrated sigh, I moved toward a large wardrobe on the far side of the suite. I hesitated for a moment before pulling open the doors, not sure what to expect. To my surprise, inside hung a single dress, emerald green with a tag still attached.

It was simple yet elegant, the kind of dress that seemed perfectly picked out for the day ahead. It was as if someone had known I’d need it—likely Mateo. I brushed my fingers over the soft fabric, feeling a wave of emotions I couldn’t quite name.

With no other option, I slipped into the dress, grateful for its perfect fit. The fabric fell softly around me, the deep green complimenting my skin .

As I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I hardly recognized the woman staring back. I rushed into the bathroom, my mind still spinning. Grabbing a brush, I quickly ran it through my hair before twisting it into a low bun at the nape of my neck. I didn’t have time to do more, so I swished some mouthwash, feeling the cool burn as I tried to clear the lingering taste of sleep from my mouth.

Satisfied that I looked somewhat presentable, I hurried back into the main room, snatching my phone off the nightstand as I headed for the door. It was only as I stepped into the hallway that I realized I had no idea where the lobby was in this enormous building.

Panic flared up in my chest as I stood there, momentarily paralyzed. The suite had felt like a labyrinth last night, and in the light of day, it was no less confusing. I didn’t have time to get lost—Peyton had sounded urgent, and I needed to find him .

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. "Think," I whispered to myself, scanning the hallway for any signs or clues. There had to be someone I could ask for directions, but the corridor was eerily silent, not a soul in sight.

Gritting my teeth, I decided to trust my instincts and headed in the direction I vaguely remembered coming from last night, hoping I wouldn't end up more lost than I already felt. I paused mid-step, suddenly realizing the direction I was heading would take me back to the nightclub, not the hotel lobby where Peyton would be waiting. I cursed under my breath, frustration and anxiety bubbling up as I turned on my heel, heading back down the empty hallway.

The silence of the corridor was unnerving, each of my footsteps echoing off the walls. As I rounded a corner, I faltered, surprised to see a man standing in front of three elevators. His posture was rigid, and the golden lapel on his uniform indicated he was staff.

Before I could open my mouth to ask for directions, he spoke. "This lift will take you down to the lobby," he said, his voice smooth and professional. With a small nod, he pressed a button, and the elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime.

"Thank you," I mumbled, ducking inside quickly. I glanced back at him as the doors began to close, but he remained still, his expression unreadable.

I knew this had something to do with Mateo—there was no other explanation for why I’d woken up alone or why I was being allowed to leave his suite so freely. My mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts as the elevator doors slid open, revealing a lavish lobby bathed in warm light.

Before I could fully step out, I was snagged by Melody and Peyton, their grips tight and their expressions strained. “What’s going on?” I asked, trying to ignore the curious stares we were attracting from the hotel staff and guests.

“That’s a loaded question,” Melody replied, her voice low but firm, as she kept a hold on my hand.

Without any more explanation, they hurried me through the lobby and out of the hotel, emerging to the backside of the hill where both buildings sat. The parking lot was full, the luxury cars gleaming under the morning sun.

“We’re in spot 8,” Peyton announced, pulling out a key fob.

“Spot 8?” I echoed, confusion settling in as we approached the parking spot.

A sleek white luxury car sat waiting for us. It was pristine, the kind of car that screamed money and power.

“Whose car is this?” I asked, the unease in my voice growing .

“Your fiancé’s,” Peyton enunciated the word with a pointed look. “Hop in.”

At Melody’s urging, I slid into the front passenger seat, the cool leather beneath me doing little to calm my nerves. “Okay, now can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Melody exchanged a glance with Peyton before asking, “Did something happen last night between you two?”

“Besides the obvious,” Peyton added, his tone dry but concerned.

I took a shaky breath, trying to find the right words. “He...was upset about me wanting birth control,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. As I said it aloud, the realization hit me like a freight train. I still hadn’t gotten any kind of morning-after contraception, and he had come inside me again, repeatedly, the night before.

“What the actual fuck?” Melody’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and filled with outrage. “That isn’t his decision. ”

“It’s screwed up, but for men like Mateo, yes it is,” Peyton interjected, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident.

I noticed then that both of them were dressed in new clothes as well, but instead of the full glam I had seen them in last night, they were in refined, comfortable outfits—casual, but still expensive-looking.

“We were woken up by someone pounding on our room door,” Peyton continued, his voice strained. “They handed me this fob and instructed me to have you at Mr. Escuro's by eleven. I was told if I didn’t, he would have you brought to him by his own methods.”

He paused, then reached across the console and grabbed a manila folder off the dash. “Look at this.” He handed it to me.

With trembling hands, I flipped it open. My brow furrowed and my neck stiffened as I registered what I was looking at. It was a deed to my parents’ estate—with Mateo’s name on it .

Before I could even process that, another document joined it—a promissory note with a sum that made my head spin. My uncle's name was scrawled beneath it, clear as day.

“I don’t...what the fuck is going on?” My voice cracked as I flipped the folder shut, feeling the world tilting off its axis.

“This isn’t just about you,” Peyton said quietly. “It’s about everything—your family, your past, and whatever else Mateo’s planning. We’re in way deeper than we thought.”

I knew he would have an ulterior motive. There was no way Mateo would help me out of kindness, and there was even less reason for him to make me his wife. I voiced as much to Peyton and Melody as Peyton pulled out of the parking spot, the luxury car gliding effortlessly onto the road.

“But why didn’t he just take me with him on his own? Why involve you two?” I asked, my frustration bubbling to the surface. The more I thought about it, the less sense it made—unless there was something even more twisted going on.

Peyton glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression somber. “We’re already involved because we’re close to you. Yeah, he could’ve taken you with him whenever he left, but that isn’t how the Escuros work.”

Melody nodded, her gaze fixed out the window as if trying to process everything herself. “They don’t just control the person they’re targeting—they control everyone around them. It’s a power play, showing you that no matter what, he’s in charge. By involving us, he’s making sure you know how deep his influence goes.”

I slumped back in my seat, my mind racing. Peyton was right; Mateo could’ve just taken me, but he didn’t. He wanted to show me that I wasn’t just dealing with him—I was dealing with a family, a network, a world of power that extended far beyond anything I’d ever known .

And now, because of me, Peyton and Melody were caught in the middle of it too. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, the reality of what I’d gotten myself—and them—into sinking in deeper with every passing second.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, the guilt twisting in my gut. The weight of everything that had happened, and everything that was to come, felt like it was pressing down on my chest. I knew I had dragged Peyton and Melody into something dangerous, and the thought of them getting hurt because of me was unbearable.

Peyton didn’t miss a beat. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, cursing under his breath. “Don’t you dare apologize, El. Not again. You think I didn’t know what I was signing up for when I agreed to help you? I’m not some naive kid. I knew the risks.”

His tone was sharp, but there was something else there too—a fierce protectiveness that made my heart ache .

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his gaze softening just a fraction. “You’re my friend. That means something to me. So cut the crap and stop apologizing.”

Melody, sitting beside me, reached over and grabbed my hand, her touch a grounding force amidst the chaos swirling in my mind. “Peyton’s right,” she said, her voice steady but laced with concern. “We’re in this together. We chose to be here with you, and we’re not going anywhere. So don’t even think about trying to shoulder all of this alone.”

Peyton grunted in agreement, his focus back on the road, but his knuckles were still white against the steering wheel. “We’ve got your back, El. Just don’t shut us out, okay?”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The words I wanted to say—how much their support meant to me—got stuck somewhere between my heart and my mouth.

I flipped the folder open again and stared at the promissory note, the words blurring slightly as I tried to make sense of it all. My uncle’s name was right there, bold and undeniable, alongside a sum of money that made my head spin. And then there was the date—two months before my aunt was killed and Eva went missing.

My stomach twisted into knots. “Why would Mateo have this? And what does it mean for the house? My parents’ estate?” I asked, my voice laced with confusion and rising anxiety.

Peyton’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening. “El, this note means your uncle owes Mateo a lot of money. And if the deed to the estate is in Mateo’s name now, it means your uncle used it as collateral. Mateo owns your family home.”

I blinked, trying to process the information. “But...why? Why would he do that? And why was this all set into motion two months before Aunt Molly was killed? Before Eva disappeared? ”

Melody’s eyes widened as she caught on to what I was implying. “Wait...you don’t think...”

“Had I been looking at this all wrong?” I interrupted her, the pieces slowly starting to come together in a way I didn’t want them to. “Did my uncle have something to do with Eva’s disappearance?”

Peyton shook his head, but the uncertainty was clear in his eyes. “I don’t know, El. But it’s looking more and more like this isn’t just about money. If your uncle was desperate enough to involve Mateo and gamble away the estate, who knows what else he might have done—or who he might have involved.”

A cold dread settled over me as I considered the possibility. My uncle had always been controlling, but was it possible he was desperate enough to betray his own family to cover his tracks? To save his own skin?

“I need to find out what he knows,” I murmured, my mind racing. “If he had anything to do with Eva’s disappearance, I have to know. I can’t just let this go.”

Peyton glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression somber. “El, whatever you decide to do, we’re with you. But you need to be careful. Mateo’s not the only dangerous one in this mess.”

I ran a hand over my face, trying to clear my mind. "I can't jump to conclusions. None of this explains Mateo's vested interest in me, especially if he already has the only thing of value my parents left behind."

Melody exchanged a glance with Peyton before speaking, her voice gentle but firm. "I agree to a fault, El. There are too many moving pieces right now, and we still don’t know where your sister fits into all of this. But the house? That’s not the most valuable thing your parents left behind."

I frowned, confusion knitting my brows together. "What do you mean? "

Melody leaned forward, her gaze locking with mine. "You and Eva. You two are the most valuable things your parents left behind."

The weight of her words hung in the air, pressing down on me. It was a truth I hadn’t fully considered, but it made sense. If Mateo wanted something more than just the house, something that would tie me to him indefinitely, what better way than to involve me—and by extension, my sister—directly in his life?

Peyton nodded, his voice carrying the same gravity. "You’re not just a pawn in this, El. You’re a key player, whether you want to be or not. Mateo’s interest in you isn’t just about the estate. It’s about control, influence, and maybe even more. He’s not someone who does anything without a reason."

I swallowed hard, the implications of what they were saying settling in. Mateo wasn’t just after material possessions—he was after control, and somehow, I had become central to his plans.

"But why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why me? And why now?"

Melody shook her head. "That’s what we need to figure out. But whatever the reason, it’s clear that you and Eva are crucial to whatever game Mateo’s playing. And that means we need to tread carefully, especially if your uncle’s involved in this too."

I leaned my head against the cool leather of the car seat, staring out the window as we drove through the heart of the city. The cityscape outside blurred, a neon jungle that never seemed to sleep. It was a place that thrived on excess, a playground for the rich and powerful. Towering skyscrapers, their facades glittering like gemstones, rose against the darkening sky. Below, the streets were alive with a sea of people and cars, a constant pulse of movement .

Bright neon signs flickered on every corner, offering everything from designer drugs to underground fights, as if the city itself was a living entity, breathing sin and temptation. It was a place where the lines between right and wrong blurred, where power was the ultimate currency, and where people like Mateo thrived. A place where my sister had been swallowed whole.

I sighed, the weight of it all pressing down on me as we moved deeper into the city. The vibrant colors, the relentless energy—it was all just a fa?ade, hiding the rot underneath. A place where people like Eva could disappear without a trace, where secrets were buried beneath layers of glitter and grime.

And ever present, like a shadow that clung to me, was the lingering feeling of Mateo—his hands rough on my body, the way he took complete dominion over it, claiming every inch of me as his own .

The memory of his touch sent shivers down my spine, a mix of fear and something else I didn’t want to name.

His presence was inescapable, even now. It was as if he had left an indelible mark on me, something I couldn’t scrub away no matter how hard I tried. His control extended far beyond the physical—it was mental, and emotional, a hold that gripped me tightly and refused to let go. The city outside might have been a vibrant, chaotic mess, but inside, my thoughts were consumed by him—the dangerous stranger who now knew my body inside and out.

We reached Mateo's home all too soon .

The gates to his estate were already wide open when we arrived as if expecting us. As soon as Peyton’s car made it through, the gates closed behind us with a large SUV that had been following us for some time pulling in right after.

“What the hell is that?” Melody leaned forward from the backseat, her voice tense with curiosity.

I hesitated before answering, “It’s my… it’s my car—or pieces of it.”

“Your car?!” Peyton exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up. “Wow, babe, it was really rough over there.”

“Peyton,” Melody scolded, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

I managed a weak laugh, appreciating his attempt at levity, but it didn’t last long. The sight before me was too surreal. My old PT Cruiser, or what was left of it, was stripped barren—door panels, seats, and even the steering console were gone .

It was the skeleton of a car, and I had no idea why or when Mateo had retrieved it. I had never thought I’d see it again.

To do this here, in plain view, was a statement. Men were still working on it, their expressions impassive as they went about their task.

Before Peyton could bring the car to a full stop, I had the door open. “Elena—” he started, but I cut him off.

“Stay in the car,” I demanded, grabbing the folder and stepping out, my heels clicking against the pavement as I marched straight to the front door. Without knocking, I pushed it open and didn’t bother to shut it behind me.

I headed straight toward Mateo’s study, where I could hear voices. They all fell silent as the sound of my heels echoed down the hallway.

“Give me a moment,” I heard Mateo say just as I reached the threshold .

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.

The next image was worse .

Eva was still there, but this time, her face was different—flushed and vulnerable, eyes half-closed in what looked like a mix of pleasure and pain. This man—whoever he was—had her pinned on a bed, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat, the other tangled in her hair. But that wasn’t the bad part. I had been in a similar position just hours ago. No—the worst part was the reflection in a glass window that showed men watching.

I kept swiping, unable to stop myself even as the images became more vulgar and more explicit. Each photo painted a clearer picture of the life Eva had been living—one of dangerous liaisons and indulgence in the darkest corners of the city. Some of the men in the photos were faceless, their identities hidden by the angles of the shots or perhaps deliberately cropped out. But there were others—most of them—whose wedding rings gleamed in the low light, a silent testament to their infidelity .

It wasn’t just one man; there were many. Mateo’s father was in several of the images, his hands on Eva, his presence undeniable. But he wasn’t the only one. There were other men, some of them two at once, their bodies intertwining with hers in ways that made my stomach turn. The gold bands on their fingers told me everything I needed to know about how Eva had financed her lifestyle—the expensive clothes, the luxury apartments, the nights spent in the city’s most exclusive spots. She had found her way to thrive in this corrupt city, but at what cost?

I felt a strange mix of emotions—rage, sadness, disgust—but most of all, a deep, aching sorrow. This was the life my sister had chosen, or maybe it was the life she had been forced into. Either way, it had consumed her, swallowed her whole, leaving behind the girl I once knew in its wake.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, the images changed to videos. I hesitated, my finger hovering over the screen. The thumbnail showed Eva, her face partially obscured, her lips slightly parted as she stared into the camera. It was a look I didn’t recognize, a combination of defiance and despair that twisted something deep inside me.

I knew I shouldn’t, that whatever lay on the other side of that play button would only make things worse. But I couldn’t stop myself. I had to see, had to understand what my sister had been through, even if it shattered the last illusions I held about her.

I tapped the screen, and the video began to play. For a moment, the screen was filled with nothing but darkness. Then the scene began to take shape—a dimly lit room, opulent and suffocating in its decadence. My sister, Eva, came into view, dressed in nothing but lingerie that left little to the imagination. She was perched on the edge of a bed, the camera angled in such a way that I could see the mirrored ceiling above her .

The reflection showed more than just her—it captured a man’s silhouette moving towards her, the same man from the previous images, Mateo’s father.

He reached out, his fingers brushing along her bare skin, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The way he touched her, the way she leaned into him—it was like watching a predator close in on its prey. But the most disturbing part was the look on Eva’s face. It wasn’t fear, nor was it pleasure. It was resignation, a deadened acceptance of whatever was about to happen. As if she knew she was trapped in a life she could never escape, and this was just another moment in her endless cycle.

The video continued, the man’s voice barely audible as he murmured something into her ear. Eva nodded, her expression changing to one of forced delight. My hands shook as I watched, and I had to fight the urge to throw the tablet across the room .

How could she have ended up like this? What had driven her to this point? Anger surged through me, mingling with a deep, crushing guilt. I should have been there for her. I should have done something, anything, to stop this. Her moans poured from the tablet as she submitted to his every desire, riding him slowly. As the video progressed, it was evident that the man was growing increasingly rougher, his voice louder. Eva's cries grew less and less like pleasure and more like pain. The video ended abruptly. The screen went black, leaving me staring at my own reflection in the glass, pale and horrified with tears streaming down my face.

I didn’t want to see it anymore.

My hands were trembling as I tried to exit the gallery, desperate to escape the horrors flashing on the screen. But in my clumsiness, I swiped to the next video, and it began to play automatically. I froze, a chill sweeping over me when I recognized the voice .

“No,” I whispered, the word barely escaping my lips as dread clawed at my chest. “No, no, no…”

I didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see what was coming next. But I couldn’t stop myself. My gaze was drawn to the screen as if it had a will of its own. And then I saw her—Eva’s face turned towards the camera, her eyes wide with fear and pain. For the first time, she met my gaze through the lens, and the sheer desperation in her expression broke something inside me.

The man behind her—thrusting like an animal—our Uncle Luis.

Eva’s cries grew louder, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. I could hardly breathe, the air felt thick in my lungs.

How could he?

My world tilted. A wave of nausea crashed over me, so intense I thought I might actually throw up. My stomach churned violently, and the bile that had been rising in my throat now threatened to spill over.

My entire body felt cold, my hands clammy as they gripped the tablet. I fumbled with the controls, struggling to find the right button to end this horror. Finally, I managed to pause the video, but it was too late. The damage was done. I sank into Mateo’s office chair, the plush leather offering no comfort as I tried to steady myself. My mind raced, trying to make sense of the images I had just seen, of the horror that had unfolded before my eyes.

There was one man who controlled the sex trade in Vice City. The same man who had seen all of this and said nothing. One man who knew exactly where my sister was right now. The man who held all the power and had all the answers.

Mateo Escuro—my future husband.