54 - Betrayal

Not long after, we quickly got ready and changed clothes.

There was going to be a grand banquet that morning.

Arturo, as usual, couldn't keep his hands off me, his touch wandering over my body in that playful, flirtatious way he always did. I didn't pay much attention to it at the time—maybe because I had grown used to it, or maybe because I didn't want to ruin the surface-level serenity that blanketed us like a lie.

But that serenity was only the thinnest veil, hiding a storm ready to break.

Sergio Araujo Machiavelli—Arturo's father—stood with overwhelming presence at the head of the long silk-draped table. A glass of red wine raised high in his hand, as if sealing this moment into the Machiavelli family's history.

"Well then, before you all depart… on this joyous occasion, I have a very important announcement to make."

All eyes turned toward him with anticipation.