"HE THOUGHT HE WAS SAVING TWO ORPHANS—UNTIL THE MEN WITH GUNS REVEALED WHO THE GIRLS ACTUALLY BELONGED TO!"

Headline: "THE MERCEANRY’S BETRAYAL: THE TRUE ARCHITECT OF THE PLOT IS REVEALED IN THE BASEMENT OF HORRORS!"Phut!

The silenced gunshot was barely louder than a whisper, but the effect was devastating.

A neat, red hole appeared in the center of Hugo’s forehead. His eyes widened in shock, his smirk instantly freezing. He stumbled backward, his body crashing onto the metal table, scattering the legal documents, before sliding lifelessly to the concrete floor.

Alejandro gasped, throwing himself back in his chair.

The other mercenaries in the room didn't draw their weapons. Instead, they immediately stood at attention, saluting the man who had just executed their boss.

The gunman who had fired the shot slowly lowered his weapon. He reached up, pulling off his tactical mask.

Underneath the mask was a face Alejandro knew all too well.

It wasn't his uncle Ernesto.

It was Dr. Robert Sterling—Alejandro’s personal psychiatrist. The man who had spent the last two years "helping" him cope with Isabella’s death. The man who had insisted, insisted so aggressively, that Alejandro return to the Valle de Bravo hacienda this very weekend.

"Robert...?" Alejandro breathed, utterly stunned. "What... what is this?"

Dr. Sterling smiled, a warm, paternal expression that now looked deeply psychotic. He pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Alejandro, casually tossing the silenced pistol onto the table.

"My dear Alejandro," Sterling said, his voice smooth and calming, the exact same tone he used during their therapy sessions. "You look surprised. Did you really think a brainless thug like Hugo could orchestrate something this grand? Poisoning? Embryo theft? High-finance laundering?"

Sterling shook his head, laughing softly.

"Hugo was a tool. A loud, greedy, useful idiot. I used him to eliminate Isabella because she was getting too close to discovering my offshore accounts. I used his father, Ernesto, to fund the secret IVF project. But the grand design... that has always been mine."

"Why?" Alejandro growled, his shock turning into a burning, white-hot fury. "You were my friend. You helped me through the darkest days of my life!"

"I created the darkest days of your life, Alejandro," Sterling corrected him gently. "A grieving man is a vulnerable man. A man who trusts his therapist with his deepest secrets, his passwords, his financial accounts, his darkest fears. For two years, I have been systematically bleeding your offshore accounts dry, transferring your wealth into dummy corporations in the Cayman Islands. But I needed the master key. I needed the Garza Trust."

Sterling gestured toward Sofía and Lucía.

"These girls are the key. Once Hugo eliminated you, I was going to eliminate Hugo. I would then 'find' the girls, set myself up as their court-appointed psychological guardian—citing your family’s tragic history of instability—and control the multi-billion-dollar trust legally, forever."

"You're a monster," Alejandro whispered.

"I’m a businessman, Alejandro," Sterling corrected, standing up. He picked up the pen from the floor and handed it back to Alejandro. "Now, Hugo’s death complicates things slightly, but not much. We’ll just have to rewrite the narrative. You killed your cousin Hugo in a fit of grief-induced madness, then killed yourself and the children. Tragic. But before you did, you signed over everything to your trusted doctor and friend."

Sterling pointed the gun at Sofía’s head.

"Sign, Alejandro. Or I will paint this basement with your daughter's blood."

Alejandro looked at his daughters. Lucía was crying silently, her tiny body shaking. Sofía’s eyes were locked on his, filled with a courage that defied her age.

Alejandro looked down at the paper. His hand was steady now. The fear was gone, replaced by a cold, absolute resolve.

"Okay," Alejandro said. "I'll sign."

He put the pen to the paper. He wrote his name: Alejandro Garza.

But as he finished the final stroke of his signature, he didn't put the pen down.

In one explosive movement, Alejandro drove the metal-tipped pen directly into the thigh of the mercenary standing closest to him. The man screamed, dropping to his knees.

Alejandro grabbed the mercenary’s holstered sidearm, spun in his chair, and fired three times.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The two other guards dropped to the floor, instantly neutralized.

Sterling shrieked in terror, firing blindly. A bullet grazed Alejandro’s shoulder, but Alejandro didn't stop. He lunged across the table, tackling Sterling to the ground.

The gun flew out of Sterling's hand, clattering into the darkness of the basement. Alejandro mounted the doctor, his fists raining down with a fury fueled by two years of lies, grief, and stolen life.

"You killed my wife!" Punch. "You stole my children!" Punch. "You destroyed my family!" Punch.

Sterling’s face was a bloody mess. He raised his hands, pleading. "Wait! Alejandro, wait! If you kill me, you'll never know!"

Alejandro froze, his fist raised in the air. "Know what? What else could you possibly have stolen?"