Eduardo didn't sleep that night.
He sat in the leather armchair in his office, dress shirt half-unbuttoned, tie loosened, the glass of whiskey untouched on the table.
His eyes fixed on nothing. Or rather, on everything that masked woman had awakened.
It was her... he whispered for the tenth time, as if repetition could transform suspicion into certainty.
His mind replayed every detail.
The soft floral perfume. The light touch of her small hand. The delicate warmth of her waist beneath his fingers.
And especially...
Those eyes.
Emerald green, intense, profound, impossible to forget.
Eyes he had seen before when he was ignoring the world around him... and the woman who claimed to be his.
Elisa.
It couldn't be coincidence.
The woman who had danced with him at the ball... it was her.
It had to be.
But why had she fled without saying anything?
Why was she hiding?
Why wouldn't she confront him?
------
The next morning, Eduardo woke earlier than usual.
