Chapter 24

• The moment Joaquin’s car tires crunched against the gravel of the driveway and faded into the distance, I allowed myself to exhale. The stillness of the mansion was deafening. I stood in the foyer for a heartbeat, my eyes scanning the high, vaulted ceilings and the shadows that seemed to pool in the corners like spilled ink.
• He’s gone.
• The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through my veins that felt like liquid fire. My resolve, which had been tempered by hours of forced subservience, hardened into something lethal. I didn't head for the kitchen or the gardens. I moved with the precision of a predator toward the executive wing. The heavy, mahogany doors to his study stood before me like the entrance to a tomb. I took a steadying breath, pushed them open, and stepped inside. The study was a shrine to his authority. I didn't waste time admiring the decor. I moved to his desk, my pulse thrumming in my throat. I began to tear through the drawers, my hands trembling only slightly. I found nothing of value—only mundane legal documents and corporate correspondences.