Chapter 12

• Nayeli remained where she was, in that moment could pass for a wisp of a girl, barely more than a timid teenager, she stood with her head bowed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Fear was a palpable aura around her, a scent that even the heavy perfumes couldn't mask. Beside her, Mariselle stood tall, defiant, like she would drive a dagger through Don carlo’s heart if she could. Her eyes, though wary, held a fire that refused to be extinguished, even in this gilded cage.
• Don Carlo took a slow sip of his drink, his lips curling into a predatory smile. “Nayeli,” his voice was a low purr, a sound that promised both indulgence and cruelty. “Come here, my dear. Show our new guest how one truly appreciates a man of my… stature.”
• Nayeli flinched, a barely perceptible tremor running through her. She didn’t look up, but her shoulders slumped further. Mariselle watched, a knot of dread tightening in her stomach. She had heard her whispers, seen the haunted look in Nayeli’s eyes. Now, she was about to witness the depths of this man’s depravity.