“Mr. Martino?” Carmen called toward the house, her voice taut with anger.
Ethan glanced at the car, waiting for instructions.
Caius’s gaze lingered on the now-dark window, then he waved dismissively and leaned back.
Carmen didn’t knock. Walter never locked her out — every house she knew had her fingerprints saved in the system.
She had never been to this estate, but she knew his usual passcodes. After two tries, she got the door open.
The trail of chaos started at the entryway — phone, purse, heels — leading up the stairs, where Walter’s custom tuxedo jacket from the engagement party hung on the banister.
A surge of rage nearly blinded her. She bunched up her dress and ran upstairs.
The bedroom door wasn’t locked.
Walter was on the bed with Jada, his shirt and tie discarded on the floor.
Jada lay on her back, Walter’s kisses trailing down her neck, almost reaching her last layer of clothing.
Walter was burning up, fully lost in desire — not noticing that Jada’s clear eyes were calculating, waiting.
The timing was perfect.
She didn’t stop him.
But just before the final barrier fell, footsteps sounded outside — heels striking the floor — followed by Carmen’s voice: “Walter…”
Everything froze.
Walter scrambled up, pulling the blanket over Jada and snatching up his clothes.
Half-dressed, he nearly stumbled trying to put them on, looking nothing like the composed CEO.
Carmen stood silently, watching him dress, then turned her icy gaze on Jada, as if she could kill her where she lay.
Jada stayed quiet, calmly clutching the blanket, face unreadable.
The suffocating silence broke only after Walter finished dressing. He turned to Carmen, lips pressed tight. “Why are you here?”
At his gaze, Carmen’s expression softened, her resentment melting into wounded vulnerability. “Can’t I come?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Walter pinched the bridge of his nose, about to soothe her.
Then he remembered Jada on the bed. His words cut off. He took a deep breath. “Carmen, we’re like siblings. I’ll always care for you, protect you. But I need my own space, my own life. When the company stabilizes, I’ll end this engagement. I will marry, have a family — children — of my own.”
Carmen’s eyes welled with tears. “I know. You and my sister were together before. I understand.”
“But Walter, today was our engagement day. Couldn’t you at least spare me that humiliation?”
Walter frowned. “No one knows I came here.”
And he hated when Carmen brought up Sophia — it tore open wounds that still hadn’t healed.
Carmen’s gaze darkened, her nails digging into her palms to stop herself from screaming.
Sophia had been dead for years — why couldn’t Walter forget her?
How much longer would that woman’s shadow haunt them before she was finally gone?
