Andres turned to Maeve. "How do you want to deal with him?"
Gianna only knew her nephew had caused a disaster. She didn't actually know who he'd offended.
When Emilio finally got a clear look at Maeve, his mind blanked for a second.
He'd thought she was just a pretty club hostess. He hadn't imagined she'd be sitting inside Mr. Andres's home.
What that meant—he didn't even dare to finish the thought.
Maeve took an unhurried sip of porridge, all soft smiles and calm eyes, then spoke with a sweetness that cut. "The only place trash belongs is in a bin."
Gianna's eyes widened in disbelief. What was this girl saying? Andres wasn't seriously going to listen to her, was he?
She was barely more than a young woman, and she sounded even more ruthless than Andres.
Andres chuckled, indulgent. "Fine. The Rodriguez family will be bankrupt by tomorrow. And the garbage will be sent to prison."
Emilio's face turned paper-white. "Mr. Andres—I came sincerely to apologize. Please, give me a chance."
He lurched forward, dropping to a knee as he begged Maeve, voice breaking. "Miss—last time at the club, I was blind. I didn't know who you were to Mr. Andres. Please… please have mercy. Give me a chance to change."
Only then did Gianna understand: Andres hadn't punished Emilio for business, or pride.
He'd done it because of this woman.
Maeve lifted a brow. "You? Change? Do you even know what the word means?"
Whatever Andres could dig up, Maeve could dig up too.
Emilio didn't just have blood on his hands—he had multiple deaths tied to him. Cruelty like his wasn't a mistake. It was his nature, fed by family money and entitlement.

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