The same night.
An upscale villa in San Francisco.
Antonio, dressed in a crisp white shirt, cradled a black ceramic cup in his slender fingers.
His warm yet piercing dark eyes lingered on the photograph displayed on his computer screen.
Bathed in the soft glow of the indoor lighting, his striking features exuded an undeniable elegance.
"What is it?"
he asked, his voice calm but expectant.
His assistant spoke in a low, measured tone.
"Sinclair has taken Miss Rodriguez to the Luther Family's private airport.
They've left San Francisco."
"Left San Francisco?"
Antonio's gaze snapped up, his brow furrowing slightly.
The Porter family's downfall had sent shockwaves through the city, and San Francisco was still reeling from the aftermath.
With the Luther Family embroiled in their own turmoil, why would Sinclair choose this moment to leave—and with Camilla, no less?
The mental image of the two of them wrapped in each other's embrace flashed through his mind.
