Susan's eyes widened. She had just seen Martina hugging a man. Most of him was obscured by Martina, and the dim lighting prevented Susan from getting a good look. Then, the man raised his head, and their eyes met.

Spinning around, phone in hand, Susan muttered, "Damn, they saw me," as she walked away, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

"Jealous, much?" Hannah teased.

"Jealous?" Susan scoffed. "Even if Manuel's desperate, he shouldn't pursue Martina. She thinks everyone should cater to her. Whoever marries her will be incredibly unlucky."

"Who says Martina wouldn't change for Manuel? Have you seen her chasing anyone else? Remember how gentle she was with him? Everyone has a soft spot," Hannah countered.

"I'm a busybody, okay?" Susan said, dismissing the topic. It wasn't her business if Manuel wanted to be with Martina.

"You're at a nightclub again?" Hannah's voice held a hint of displeasure.

"I was just hanging out. Go get close to Oscar. I'm hanging up."

"Hey..."

Susan ended the call. She couldn't stand Hannah's lecturing. Taking a deep breath, Susan cautiously peeked around a corner. Only after confirming Martina and Manuel had left did she venture into her VIP room to rejoin her friends.

Meanwhile, Manuel was escorting Martina to her car at the club entrance, driving her home. She leaned on him; he tried twice to gently push her away, but eventually relented, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. She smirked, knowing persistence was her best strategy with Manuel.

At the Sawyer manor, Martina turned and hugged Manuel's neck, tiptoeing to kiss him. He pushed her away, her lips accidentally brushing his shoulder, leaving a red lipstick stain on his white shirt. He didn't notice. He stepped back.

"You're home." He kept his distance.

"Manuel, don't you understand? I like you," Martina said, her eyes red-rimmed. She was tired of his constant rejection.

"I don't like you," he stated plainly. His response mirrored his cold rejection from years ago. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Then who do you like? Susan?"

He remained silent.

"Susan's been with Henry for years, and you still can't let her go? You're pathetic!" Martina's anger exploded.

"That's my choice," he said coldly, turning and leaving.

"Manuel!" she screamed, but he ignored her, entering his car and driving away.

Manuel never gave women false hope. Just as Susan had never given him hope, he wouldn't either.

He'd been at a social dinner; Martina had joined him, drinking heavily, and he’d sent her home. Though he wouldn't be with Martina, he felt responsible for her safety as a gentleman. Theodore had helped host the dinner after Manuel sent Martina home.

Walking down the club corridor, he heard, "Ouch!"

He'd bumped into someone rushing past, the impact considerable. The woman stumbled backward, losing her balance. Manuel caught her, pulling her into his arms.

Susan looked up, surprised to see him. They were awkwardly embraced. She quickly straightened up, and he released her.

"I thought you'd left," Susan said, adjusting her clothes. Manuel was the last person she wanted to see.

"I was taking Martina home. I still have business here..."

"What a good boyfriend. Always prioritizing your girlfriend, even when busy, huh?"

"Martina isn't my girlfriend."

"Oh yeah?" Susan sneered. "Then the lipstick stain on your collar? From another woman?"

He stared, then saw the stain.

"You know what I hate about you? Your hypocrisy!" she exclaimed. "Just like your mother – two-faced."

She left, refusing to hear any explanation. She had a performance and wouldn't waste another minute on him. He watched her go, then turned and left.

At midnight, after saying goodbye to Theodore, Manuel saw Henry arrive to pick up Susan. They left together. His expression remained unchanged as he got into his car. Leaning back, he covered his forehead; he'd drunk too much. He wasn't a heavy drinker and easily became dizzy.

Arriving at the Phillips' villa, he headed toward the entrance, feeling unsteady. Near the dimly lit doorway, he saw a couple kissing. He didn't want to interrupt, understanding the need for intimacy. But he couldn't hold back any longer, and he vomited, his head swimming.