Chapter 10

“So, would you?” Kira whispered, nudging me.

I shook my head instantly. “Never. Unless he’s figured out how to raise the dead.”

Kira didn’t press.

After the footage of Laria attacking my mother went viral, social media erupted in outrage. My mother’s former students—dozens of successful architects and designers—organized a petition demanding criminal charges. Then came an unexpected twist. Laria, who’d vanished after her mysterious abduction, reappeared—literally dumped on a busy downtown corner. Her clothes were torn, her appearance disheveled, yet she was instantly recognizable. As the crowd moved to apprehend her, she escaped and vanished into the city. Social media exploded with frustrated comments from people wishing they’d been there to capture her.

I thought the drama might finally subside, but Hektor had one more card to play. At the height of the scandal, he launched an unannounced livestream. Within minutes, his viewership exploded into the hundreds of thousands.

“Holy shit, Yunifer, you need to see this,” Kira said, thrusting her phone in front of me. Hektor’s rough, hollow voice filled the room.

“I need to make something clear. Four years ago, I destroyed Yunifer Harrison’s life. To help Laria become the art world’s rising star and secure her marriage into the Davidson fortune, I betrayed Yunifer’s trust. I created copies of her original paintings and switched them. Then I sold the forgeries to collectors. On the day of Yunifer’s wedding to Julian, I tipped off the buyers that their paintings were fake. I destroyed all evidence that could have cleared her name and let her serve three years in prison for my crime. I’ve recently learned that Laria arranged for inmates to torment Yunifer throughout her incarceration.”

The comment section exploded in real time, viewers demanding Hektor’s punishment. Some called for his immediate arrest; others suggested more creative forms of justice; others threatened violence. Each confession felt like a knife twisting in my chest. I had completely trusted him—looked up to him like an older brother. Even after he left art for business, my father still considered him his star pupil. Dad would regularly invite him to our home. Mom would spend all day preparing his favorite dishes.

How could he have been so ruthless? How could he have systematically destroyed my family without remorse?

I collapsed against Kira’s shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. I’m not sure how long I cried, but eventually the doorbell rang. Kira answered it while I desperately tried to compose myself, splashing cold water on my swollen face. Then I heard her furious voice from the hallway:

“What the hell are you doing here?”