Victor's face drained of color, his arrogance shattering like glass. He shot to his feet, knocking over his glass in the process, water spilling across the Persian rug in a dark stain. "What are you doing? You can't—Rafael, stop this madness! People saw me come in here! The receptionist, the guards— they'll know! You think you can just erase me?"
Rafael's laughter was soft, almost melodic, but it carried a chilling edge that made Eliana's skin prickle. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, his smirk deepening. "Oh, Victor, you underestimate me. Always have. Don't worry—I've got it handled. Cameras? Looped. Witnesses? Distracted or paid off. This isn't my first dance with shadows like you."
Victor lunged forward, his voice rising to a frantic scream. "You bastard! You can't do this! Mirabel will—"
