ving Ruella alone amidst the glittering debris of the evening's festivities. Empty champagne flutes stood like ghostly sentinels on scattered tables. Discarded na

ounter with Oliver and Sofia had been... a calculated risk. A small victory, perhaps, but a victory that had come at a cost. She had revealed

onsumed her. She thought of Oliver, his face etched with confusion and regret, the way his eyes lingered on her mix of longing and fear. He had rejected her, telling her he didn't love her

ho had tried to kill her, the woman who had stolen her baby. The thought of Sofia's treachery sent a wav

precise, calculated, a masterpiece of retribution. She needed to be pat

r father, Don Antonio, standing in the doorway, his face etched wi

, Papa," she replie

r her face. "I saw you talking to Oliver Mitchell and

la replied. "It w

slightly. "Necessary?" he ec

. "They wronged me, Papa," she said, her voi

adable. "I know," he said. "And I will

ong. "But be careful, mia figlia," he said, his voice a low

la replied. "But I'm

nt smile. "I know you're not," he sa

to the window, her gaze fixed on the city lights below. She knew that her father was right. Oliver and Sofi

in her way. She had waited three years for this moment, three years o

ut there was no one there. The ballroom was empty, silent. But she couldn't shake th

ked around the ballroom, checking the other doors, and the windows. Everything

ied to shake off the feeling of being watched, but it was no use. It was

et. Was he watching her? Was he the one who was

. Was she the one who was watching her? Was she

's business was not without its enemies. Some people would love to see him fall, people who would sto

ame with high stakes. She was seeking revenge, but she was also putting herself

get her revenge, she would make them pay for what they had done to her. And she would protect herself, no matter the cost. The whispers in the dark wouldn't deter her. They