She walked out of her room and moved down the hallway, quiet as a shadow.
Laughter came from the dining room below.
"Maria is always so sensitive," Keyla's voice chimed. "Maybe she needs a spa day."
Her mother responded with a soft chuckle.
Maria's jaw tightened, but she kept moving.
She wasn't here to listen to their poison again. Not yet.
Downstairs, she could smell pancakes and perfume. The illusion of a perfect family.
She stepped into her father's private study, shut the door, and reached for the landline.
Her fingers hesitated only once.
Then she dialed.
"Maria?" Aunt Clara answered after two rings. "Is everything alright?"
"No," Maria said. "But it will be."
"Talk to me."
"I need a name. Someone who knows how to fix things when they're broken... or ruin them completely."
Silence crackled on the line.
Then Clara spoke carefully.
"Come to the old flower shop. No one follows you. No one knows."
"Understood."
"And Maria?"
"Yes?"
"Don't tell your parents. Not even your mother."
"I don't plan to."
The old flower shop smelled like eucalyptus and lavender.
Maria pushed the door open and stepped inside. Sunlight spilled across polished wood and pots of blooming orchids.
Clara stood at the counter, trimming rose stems with steady hands.
"You came fast," she said, not looking up.
"I didn't want to change my mind."
Clara nodded toward the back. "Come. We'll talk where no one listens."
In the back room, Maria sat across from the one woman in the family who had ever seen her — not as a doll or a bargaining chip, but as a person.
Clara studied her.
"You look stronger."
"I feel... awake," Maria said. "That's all."
Clara placed her clippers down.
"You said you need someone. Tell me what for."
Maria leaned forward, voice quiet but clear.
"I know what they're planning. I saw it before. My death wasn't an accident. It was arranged."
Clara didn't blink.
"I believe you."
Maria exhaled slowly.
"I want to fight back. I want to flip the table before they can poison it again. But I need connections. Real ones. Someone outside this family."
Clara opened a drawer, pulled out a plain white business card, and slid it forward.
"Rina Miles," she said. "She used to clean celebrity messes. Now she does darker work. Politics. Corporate. Criminal."
"Will she meet me?"
"If she sees power in you, yes."
Maria picked up the card and turned it in her fingers.
"I'll make her see it."
Clara's expression softened slightly.
"You're serious about this."
"I'm serious about never dying again."
The café downtown was upscale, quiet, and neutral.
Maria arrived early.
She wore a dark green coat, sleek boots, and confidence she hadn't known she had in her last life. Two cappuccinos sat on the table, untouched.
At 10:06, Rina Miles walked in.
Tall. Minimal makeup. Blood-red lipstick. Cold eyes.
She sat without a word.
"You called me," Rina said, folding her coat over the chair. "That makes you the one who needs something."
Maria didn't flinch.
"And you're the one who decides if I deserve it."
Rina lifted a brow.
"Convince me."
Maria met her gaze head-on.
"I want you to connect me to Leonardo Cruz."
Rina blinked once.
Then she laughed softly.
"That's cute."
"It's business."
"Leonardo doesn't play with children."
"I'm not here to play."
Rina's tone shifted.
"And what exactly do you think you have that he could want?"
Maria leaned forward, voice calm and measured.
"My name. My family's reach. My access to everything the Morettis are hiding behind polished photos and gala invitations."
Rina tapped her fingers on the rim of the cup.
"Why not use that to save yourself?"
"Because I've already died once. Survival is not enough anymore."
Rina's gaze sharpened.
"You're dangerous."
"I plan to be."
Outside the café, the air was crisp.
Maria stood under the shade of a jacaranda tree, the white card still burning in her hand.
Rina had said she'd call.
But Maria already knew the message had gone through.
She had struck her first match.
Now the fire would come.
A black car pulled up to the curb.
Tinted windows. Unmarked plates.
The door opened without a word.
Maria stepped inside.
The man in the front seat didn't speak.
They drove for ten minutes through city streets, until skyscrapers turned into silence.
At last, the building appeared.
Glass and steel. Sharp lines. Power.
The Cruz Tower.
Her heart beat faster, but not from fear.
She was exactly where she needed to be.
The elevator rose in silence.
When it opened, Maria stepped into a penthouse suite lined with cold marble and brutal architecture.
She didn't wait to be announced.
He stood by the window, tall and silent.
Black shirt. Rolled sleeves. Power in every inch of his stillness.
Leonardo Cruz.
He didn't turn when she entered.
"You're early," he said.
Maria's voice was calm.
"I was told I had ten minutes."
"Then don't waste them."
She took one step forward.
"I'm here with an offer."
He turned now.
His eyes, sharp and unreadable, landed on her.
"Go on."