Rafael sat tense, unease tightening his shoulders as Sheriff Alex spoke.
"Rafael, trust her," the sheriff said firmly. "She's handled worse. She knows what she's doing."
Rafael opened his mouth to object, but Alex raised a hand.
"I get it. You're worried. But she's smart, capable, and experienced. You need to let her do her job."
Rafael took a long breath. The decision had already been made, and now, all he could do was wait.
"Boy," Alex said, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "this case is bigger than we thought. It involves powerful businessmen and people in high places. We can't afford to make reckless moves. We need proof... solid proof–before we act."
Rafael nodded slowly. "Okay, sir."
As he turned to leave, Alex called out behind him.
"One more thing. Don't repeat last night's mistake. Let her handle it."
Rafael paused, the reminder stinging with truth. He drew in a steady breath and gave a firm nod.
Then, without another word, he left the sheriff's house.
****
The midday sun warmed Francisco's car.
He flipped through his files, lost in routine work.
His phone rang, cutting through the quiet. He answered with a curt, "Yes."
On the other end, Martin's voice... a trusted informant... delivered news that made Francisco's jaw tighten.
"He went to meet the sheriff."
Francisco's fingers paused mid-page. A deep line creased his forehead.
"Why?" he asked sharply.
"I don't know, sir," Martin replied. "But I think Mr. Rafael and Mr. Alex are up to something."
Francisco tapped his temple, processing the implications.
After a moment, his voice dropped—cold and cutting. "Is it my job to find out, or yours? Why do I pay you?"
Martin stammered. "I… I'm sorry, sir. I'll try to find out."
Francisco's tone hardened.
"Try? What does that mean?"
"I... I'll find out and let you know, sir," Martin corrected quickly.
Francisco took a deep breath and made a decision. "Next time, don't call me. Call my assistant."
He ended the call without another word.
Turning back to his files, he tried to refocus. But before he could, the car came to a stop. His bodyguard opened the door.
"We've arrived, sir."
Francisco stepped out, adjusting his coat with a precise tug. Calm and composed, he entered the building and walked the familiar corridors with steady purpose.
At the elevator, he paused for a breath, mentally preparing. Hazel's image filled his thoughts.
The elevator doors opened with a quiet hum. He stepped out, scanning the corridor... only to find it empty.
But Hazel was not there.
His brows drew together. Something felt off.
Where is she?
He muttered under his breath, retracing his steps through the hallway, eyes searching every corner. Last night's events still weighed on him. Whatever happened had clearly shaken her... and now, her absence tugged at his calm.
He pulled out his phone and called one of the men he'd assigned to protect her.
"Yes, master?"
"Where is she?"
"She hasn't come down yet."
Francisco nodded, tension tightening in his chest. He was about to hang up when the voice on the other end spoke again.
"Ma'am!"
Francisco froze.
Then he heard her voice... light, surprised, maybe a little skeptical.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Francisco sent a car for you. Please come this way," the man said.
"Mr. Francisco?" Hazel repeated, her tone edged with curiosity... and a hint of suspicion.
She eyed the car, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.
"Sorry. I can go on my own," she said firmly.
"Ma'am, please..." the man began, but Francisco's voice cut in from the phone.
"Give her the phone."
The man handed it over, and Hazel took it with a stern expression.
"What is it, Mr. Francisco?" she asked sharply.
"Hazel, just do as he says. You're late today."
She pressed her lips. But she didn't argue. With a quiet sigh, she handed the phone back and got into the car.
As the door shut, Francisco opened his laptop, eyes locked on the live camera feed from inside the car. He watched her settle into the seat, staring out the window at the passing streets. A faint smile curved his lips.
The moment was broken by the sudden slam of a door.
"Francisco!" Max burst into the room, voice tight with urgency.
Francisco looked up, calm as ever.
"I heard you were attacked last night?" Max asked.
Francisco leaned back in his chair, shrugging off the concern. "It was nothing. I'm fine."
Max's jaw clenched. "This is exactly why I told Diana to stay in the mansion. But your sister never listens to me."
Francisco sighed.
"Max, I'm fine. Let her do what she wants... but remind her to keep my words in mind," Francisco said, his tone firm.
"I don't want any trouble because of her."
"No, Francisco. This time, I can't agree with you," Max replied, his voice steady.
Francisco turned from his chair, intrigued by Max's resolve. He stepped closer.
"What do you mean?"
Max hesitated, exhaling as if the words had been sitting on his chest for too long.
"It's not just about last night," he said finally. "There's more. And I can't stay silent anymore."
Francisco's brow furrowed. "Max, what's going on?"
Max shut his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was low and heavy. "Diana's been hiding things from us... things that could put all of us at risk."
Francisco's voice sharpened. "What are you talking about?"
Max paused, choosing his next words carefully. The weight of truth pressed down on him.
It's time.
Francisco is my friend.
But he needs to know... I love Diana.
Max looked Francisco in the eye.
"The thing is…" he took a deep breath.
"The thing is, I don't like the guy Diana's been spending time with," Max admitted, his voice low and uneasy.
Max avoided his gaze, lips pressed tight.
Francisco stayed calm. He gave Max a reassuring smile and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Then bring her back to the mansion. Make her stay."