The Beaumont mansion was shrouded in its usual oppressive silence as Andres entered. He didn’t bother loosening his tie or removing his coat. His steel-gray eyes were sharp with purpose. Valeria wasn’t home yet — he had already confirmed it. Perfect timing. He strode directly to his father’s private study. The moment he pushed the heavy door open, both parents turned toward him. His mother was seated elegantly on the velvet chaise, while his father stood behind the antique desk, arms crossed. “Andres,” his mother started, voice laced with disappointment, “yesterday’s behavior at dinner was unacceptable. Slamming your fork like that? You ruined the entire evening. Your father was only trying to celebrate good news for Valeria .” Andres remained silent, walking further into the room. His mother pressed on, “We know she isn’t blood-related, but she has been your sister about twenty years. The Moreau boy comes from an excellent family. He’s stable, respectful, and the match will secure her future. You should be happy for her — congratulate her as her older brother.” Andres’s expression didn’t change. He finally spoke, his deep voice low and cutting. “Sister?” He let the word hang in the air like poison. “Don’t insult me with that word.” His tone remained calm, yet it sliced through the air. “We share no blood. She was a stray your sentimental hearts dragged home. Nothing more.” His father’s face hardened. “Watch your tone. She is still a Beaumont in name and in this household.” Without another word, Andres reached into his briefcase and dropped a thick manila file onto the desk with a loud slap. Documents, photos, and bank transfer records spilled across the polished wood. “I found her biological parents,” he said coldly. “A pathetic, debt-ridden couple living in a rundown apartment on the outskirts of the city. Gambling debts, failed businesses, years of bad decisions.” His lips curved into a cold, humorless smirk. “I paid them. A sum large enough to clear every debt they have and then some. In return, they signed every document my lawyers prepared — full cooperation, statements relinquishing any past or future claim, and formal support for revoking her adoption status.”

He tapped the folder with one finger. “The process is already underway. With their consent and my legal team’s pressure, we are nullifying her legal standing as a Beaumont. She will be stripped of the name and removed from the family registry. It will be as if she was never officially adopted into this family.” His mother rose to her feet, horrified. “Andres… you can’t be serious. This is monstrous. She’s lived with us since she was five!” “She was never truly one of us,” he replied, voice low and dangerously calm. “You brought a stranger into this house. I never accepted it. And now I’m correcting that mistake.”

His father slammed his hand on the desk. “This is madness! You’re telling us you’ve been scheming to remove Valeria from this family like she’s some asset to be liquidated?” “She is mine to deal with,” Andres replied, voice dangerously low. “Not yours. Not the Moreau boy’s. Mine.” His mother stood up, eyes wide with horrified realization. “Oh my God… it’s true. All these years we thought you hated her, that you resented her presence. But this… this obsession. Andres, she’s your adopted sister. We raised her in this house. What you’re suggesting is sick—” “We share no blood,” he cut her off sharply. “She was never my sister. And she will not become another man’s wife. The papers will be finalized soon. Until then, she is coming with me.” His father’s voice rose. “You will destroy this family’s reputation! The engagement with Maria, the business ties, our name — everything we built. She is your adopted sister. And for what? Some twisted infatuation? We will not allow this depravity under our roof—” Andres’s steel-gray eyes darkened. “Then it’s fortunate she won’t be under your roof anymore. The family name will survive. I will make sure of it. But Valeria will not be used as a pawn for your social games anymore. She leaves with me tonight.” The argument exploded — accusations flying about depravity, betrayal of legacy, threats to cut him off, and desperate pleas to think rationally. Andres stood unmoved through all of it, an immovable wall of icy resolve. When his mother tried to guilt him about everything they had given him, he simply turned on his heel. “I’ve heard enough.” He walked out mid-sentence, ignoring their continued shouting as he closed the study door behind him with a firm click. Halfway down the grand hallway, the front door opened. Valeria stepped inside, still wearing the soft evening dress from her forced date with the Moreau heir. A light flush colored her cheeks from the cool night air, and the faint scent of another man’s cologne clung to her — something that made Andres’s blood burn with dark possession. He stopped a few feet away, towering black coat hanging open over his broad shoulders, white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing the hard lines of his chest. His intense gaze pinned her in place. For a long, heavy moment, he simply stared. Then his deep, velvety voice rolled out, quiet yet commanding, leaving no room for argument. “Pack your things. We’re leaving. Tonight.” He took one step closer, voice dropping even lower, almost intimate. “You’re coming to my penthouse. This is no longer your home.”