Entangled with the wrong man

~ IVANOV ~

I have never hated anyone the way I hate Isaac Kaene. That New York City boy who snatched my family’s most prized land and sent me to jail is a thorn embedded in my side, and I’ve been nursing this venomous grudge for years.

I hate the very air he breathes. I hate the smug curve of his lips when he laughed victoriously in court.

Papa had planned to give me that land for my next birthday. A gift, a legacy, something to cement my place. But that son of a bitch waltzed in, twisted the law to his favor, sent me to jail and claimed it as if it were always his. Just because he fancies himself a genius lawyer.

Now he struts around like he’s untouchable. Like the Rodriguez name is nothing but a whisper in the wind.

I chuckle in Spanish under my breath. Maybe Papa let it go—he had bigger battles to fight, the blood and chaos of running a mafia empire never ends—but I won’t. I cannot.

My blood simmers with the heat of revenge for the five years of my life that he wasted.

I will take from him what he cherishes most. Every possession, every luxury, every fleeting comfort that makes him believe he is untouchable. I will shred him piece by piece, make him rue the day he ever crossed the Rodriguez family.

Everyone knows the Rodriguez name. We are ruthless, merciless, and feared across Mexico. But Isaac Kaene… that arrogant fool doesn’t even know who he’s dealing with.

I pour myself a slow sip of liquor, the sharp burn trailing down my throat, and fix my gaze on him from the rooftop. The rain-scented air clings to my skin, heavy and wet.

I can be anywhere I want. Anytime. Invisible, unstoppable.

For the past two weeks, Isaac has been my obsession. I shadow his every move, melting into the shadows wherever he goes. Some would call it stalking. I call it patience. Vigilance. The prelude to retribution.

And today… today I followed him to a high-end family function. He had no idea I was there, watching.

The party drones on with its predictable pomp—the clinking of champagne glasses, hollow laughter, and the absurd display of elite pretentiousness. Isaac looks sharp in a black tuxedo, his grin wide, a predator masquerading as a gentleman. He shakes hands with men I know are as corrupt as he is. Birds of a feather, circling each other.

I’ve tried digging into his family’s company, hacking, prying for anything that could bring him down. But the bastard’s fortress is flawless. Clean tails, spotless lies.

I won’t relent. I can’t.

Then she appears. Fiery red hair, blue eyes that glint like ice under sunlight. She walks up to him, and he kisses her. Right there, in front of everyone.

Hmmm. Interesting, I murmur to myself. She must mean something to him.

They clasp hands. Isaac whispers something and goes down on a knee, bringing