The rest of the evening became a private chess match.
Liana played the role of affectionate partner so well the other guests smiled at them. She touched Javier’s wrist. She leaned in. She laughed at his jokes.
But now Javier saw it.
The calculation behind each gesture.
The impatience when the conversation drifted from money.
The subtle way she steered topics toward assets, trusts, “family planning.”
She was building a cage.
And she wanted the keys.
When dessert arrived, Liana slid her hand toward his flute again, guiding it toward him as if encouraging him to relax.
Javier instead lifted his water.
“Let’s slow down,” he said.
Liana’s smile tightened. “Why?”
“Big day tomorrow,” Javier said lightly. “I want a clear head.”
Liana’s eyes flashed—just for a fraction of a second.
Then softness returned.
“You’re always so responsible,” she cooed. “That’s why I love you.”
Javier leaned back and watched her the way he watched competitors during negotiations.
Not with anger.
With clarity.
When they left the restaurant, he kissed her cheek, held her hand for the cameras, and said goodnight like a man who trusted her with his life.
Then he got into his car alone.
And his security chief slid into the front seat.
“You were right,” Javier said quietly. “She tried tonight.”
The security chief’s jaw clenched. “We have footage?”
Javier stared out the window.
“Not yet,” he said. “But we will.”
He turned to his driver.
“Tomorrow’s signing,” Javier said. “I want every angle covered. Quiet. Legal. Clean.”
The driver nodded.
Javier’s phone buzzed again—this time a message from Liana:
Can’t sleep. Thinking about you. 
Javier stared at it.
Then he typed back:
Me too. Tomorrow will be perfect.
And as he hit send, he made himself a promise:
No matter how much it hurts, I will not let her walk away with a story where she’s the victim.
The Morning of the Signature
The next morning, Monteiro Industrial’s headquarters looked like a monument.
Steel, glass, and controlled silence.
At the top floor, a boardroom sat prepared like an altar.
Documents stacked in crisp order. Two pens placed with exact symmetry. Water glasses shining under recessed lights.
The lawyers were present. A notary waited. Two assistants stood by with tablets.
And Liana entered like a woman arriving at her coronation.
She wore white. Not bridal white—executive white. Sharp, expensive, deliberate.
She kissed Javier’s cheek.
“You look tired,” she whispered with affectionate concern.
Javier looked slightly pale on purpose, his eyes faintly distant.
“It was a long night,” he murmured.
Liana’s fingers squeezed his arm, not gently.
Possessively.
She smiled at everyone.
“Let’s do this,” she said, bright.
Javier sat at the head of the table.
Liana sat beside him.
Across from them, the lead attorney began reviewing the document.
Liana pretended to listen, but her attention stayed on Javier’s face as if she were watching for weakness.
Finally, the attorney slid the document toward her.
“Ms. Liana, please sign here.”
Liana didn’t hesitate.
She signed with a flourish that looked like confidence but felt like conquest.
Then she turned the pen toward Javier like a ceremony.
“Your turn,” she said softly. “Seal our future.”
Javier took the pen.
He held it above the paper.
Then he set it down.
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