Letícia laughed out loud alongside her daughter. Their tone bordered on sadistic—a mix of cynicism and arrogance.

“Celina was just an obstacle in the way,” Letícia said coldly. “And obstacles exist to be removed. She took herself out of the picture. If she had even a shred of dignity, she’d leave São Paulo—or better yet, the country.”

Isabela picked up her phone and started scrolling through news sites and social media. Gossip columns were already splashing headlines about the Miller heir marrying the beautiful young Isabela Koch. Some framed it as a love story, others as a strategic alliance, but all hailed it as one of the most anticipated weddings of the year.

“Look at this, Mom! We’re already in the headlines. They have no idea how grand this ceremony is going to be. The whole world will watch. And she… she’ll watch from afar.”

Letícia smiled, her gaze sharp as ice.

“The world belongs to the strong, my dear. To those who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty.”

The two clinked the