After Enzo went home, Gerardo called him, asking to meet. Curious about what he wanted, Enzo headed to Gerardo's office.

As soon as he walked in, Gerardo slammed a stack of photos onto the desk, his expression tight with anger.

"What is this?" he demanded, his sharp eyes fixed on Enzo.

"What?" Enzo asked, not bothering to glance at the photos.

"Look at them and explain this to me," Gerardo snapped. His tone left no room for argument. Enzo reluctantly picked up the photos, and the moment he saw them, his stomach dropped.

They were pictures of him and Hazel—together, laughing, hanging out, and even kissing. Worse, the photos weren't from the same day. Someone had clearly been watching them for a while.

"So," Gerardo said, his voice laced with accusation, "you're dating a girl?"

"No, I'm not," Enzo replied quickly, his voice firm despite the tension in the room.

"You've met this girl more than once. You never do things like this," Gerardo said, his voice laced with disapproval. "So this is why you keep going there. But you've never bothered to meet Isabel," he added angrily, his frustration building.

Enzo stared at him, unsure of what to say.

"I'm not going to tell you twice," Gerardo warned, his tone colder now. "You'd better stop this nonsense before I step in."

"Step in for what? This is my life! You think you can control me forever?" Enzo snapped, his voice rising with fury. Without hesitation, he grabbed the photos and flung them across the room. The pictures scattered, fluttering to the floor as Enzo stormed out, his anger palpable.

—----------

On Monday, after Hazel got home from work, she took a shower and settled on the couch to watch her favorite TV show.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. She thought it might be Enzo, so she hurried to open it. But when she did, it wasn't Enzo.

Two men stood there, and before she could react, one of them shoved her hard. Hazel stumbled back and fell to the floor. The men quickly entered her house and slammed the door shut behind them.

"Don't make a sound," one of them growled, holding up a gleaming knife. Hazel's heart pounded in terror. She was shaking, paralyzed with fear, unable to comprehend what was happening.

The man with the knife crouched down in front of her, his cold eyes fixed on hers. "So, tell me—when's your boyfriend coming back?" he sneered.

"What... who?" Hazel stammered, her voice trembling.

His response was a sudden, stinging slap across her face. She gasped in pain, a small cry escaping her lips as tears welled in her eyes.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked, her voice a mixture of fear and defiance.

"When will your boyfriend come back here?" the man demanded again.

"Who are you talking about?" Hazel asked, her voice shaking.

The man exchanged a glance with his companion before pulling a phone from his pocket. He turned the screen toward Hazel, showing her a photo of Enzo. In the picture, Enzo was wearing sunglasses and standing next to a car, surrounded by a few other men. He held a cigarette in one hand, and the photo looked like it had been taken from a distance, as though someone had been watching him in secret.

Hazel stared at the man, fear gripping her chest. Why do they want to know about Enzo? And why are these violent men after him? she thought, panic rising within her.

"I... I don't know," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

But the two men didn't seem like they were going to accept her answer so easily.