The Signature That Ended Him

But out of closure.

Her fingers were steady. Her breathing even. The room, with all its polished arrogance and quiet cruelty, had already lost its weight over her.

Diego leaned back in his chair, impatient. “Finally,” he muttered. “Let’s not make a ceremony out of it.”

Camila smirked without looking up from her phone.

Licenciado Robles dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief.

And in the far corner, the man in the charcoal suit watched.

Silent.

Still.