The dining hall of the Castillo mansion was an extravagant affair, draped in light pouring through large, arched windows, casting golden hues on the polished oak table. Everyone sat in their usual places, including Antonio, who had taken up permanent residence in the mansion since his engagement to Diana. Antonio, ever the cunning man, ate his breakfast leisurely, his every move a calculated performance of control and nonchalance.
Mrs. Castillo poured herself a cup of tea before glancing around the table. Her keen eyes scanned each face before pausing, her brows furrowing slightly. "Where's Diana?" she asked, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of utensils clinking against plates.
