Chapter 5 - THE RETURN OF THE GHOST
The atmosphere in the mansion that evening was thick with nervous tension. The power outage had rattled Renata, and the cartel wives had left abruptly, their gossip undoubtedly already spreading across the city. Damián waited until 9:00 PM, allowing the estate to settle into a quiet, uneasy rhythm. Then, he slipped out of the secret room, navigating the dusty, subterranean tunnel that led to the edge of the property’s dense forest line.
A black SUV was waiting for him in the shadows. Ramiro stood by the driver's door, holding a tailored Italian suit in a garment bag.
"The flight logs are forged, Patrón," Ramiro said softly as Damián changed in the back of the SUV. "As far as the world knows, you landed twenty minutes ago."
"Good," Damián adjusted his cuffs, his face an impenetrable mask of calm. "Call the front gate. Tell them to open up. The king is home."
When Damián’s SUV crunched up the gravel driveway, the mansion exploded into a flurry of frantic activity. Guards scrambled to attention. Staff lined up in the foyer. Damián stepped out of the vehicle, holding a beautifully wrapped gift box from Milan. He looked perfectly exhausted, the picture of a devoted man rushing back to his love.
Renata came practically flying down the grand staircase, wearing a fresh dress, her makeup hastily reapplied. She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck.
"Damián! You’re back! Why didn't you call?" she cried, her voice vibrating with fake relief. "I missed you so much it physically hurt."
Damián wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. He could smell Tomás's cologne faintly lingering on her skin. It took every ounce of his legendary willpower not to snap her neck right there.
"The meetings concluded early," Damián lied smoothly, kissing her cheek. "And I realized I couldn't spend another night away from the woman who holds my future in her hands."
He looked up and saw Tomás standing near the library doors, looking pale and rigid. Damián offered his accountant a warm, terrifying smile. "Tomás. Good to see you. Working late on the wedding finances, I assume?"
"Yes, boss. Always," Tomás swallowed hard, nodding.
"Excellent. We have much to discuss tomorrow," Damián said, his tone carrying a razor-thin edge that only a guilty man would notice.
Damián released Renata and turned his attention to the staff. His eyes scanned the line until they landed on Clara. She was standing at the very end, looking exhausted, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. When Damián met her eyes, he didn't give her the cold, indifferent stare of a boss. He held her gaze for three long seconds, an unspoken current of deep, profound gratitude passing between them. Clara blinked, slightly taken aback by the intensity in his dark eyes, before respectfully lowering her head.
"How is my mother?" Damián asked the room, though his eyes remained fixed on Clara's bowed head.
Renata quickly stepped between his line of sight, placing a hand on his chest. "Oh, darling, she’s the same. She’s been resting. Clara has been... adequate, but I was actually thinking we need to upgrade her care. Someone more professional."
Damián looked down at Renata, his expression hardening just enough to make her flinch. "My mother’s care is perfectly fine, Renata. In fact, I think Clara deserves a bonus for her unwavering loyalty."
May you like
Renata’s smile tightened into a brittle grimace. "Of course, my love. Whatever you think is best."
"I always do what is best," Damián whispered, walking past her toward his mother’s room, leaving his cheating fiancée standing in the cold foyer, suddenly unsure of the ground beneath her feet.
