Mia didn’t argue. She couldn’t afford to.
At exactly 8:15, the elevator doors opened—and the atmosphere shifted instantly.
It felt like the air itself made room for one man.
Gabriel Montiel.
Even without reading the news, everyone knew that name. At just thirty-four, he controlled an empire disguised as legitimate business—logistics, construction, security… and things far darker that no one dared say out loud.
He didn’t look like a criminal.
He looked like royalty raised to destroy.
Impeccably dressed, sharp-eyed, calm—he sat facing the rain-streaked city, flanked by his men: Elias, massive and silent, and Nicolás Varela, elegant but unsettling.
Mia approached carefully.
“Mineral water,” Nicolás ordered without even glancing at her. “And open the 1998 Barolo.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gabriel didn’t turn. He stared out at the city like it owed him answers.
For the next hour, Mia moved invisibly—refilling glasses, clearing plates, blending into the background. But she listened. Not out of curiosity—out of instinct. Life had taught her how to read danger long before it arrived.
At 9:02, everything changed.
She stepped forward with the dessert menu as Gabriel leaned back slightly.
In the reflection behind him—
she saw it.
A faint, steady red dot.
Centered over his heart.
Time stretched.
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