The sun had barely risen when the van pulled into the driveway of the villa.
Darius stepped out first, shirt slightly unbuttoned, his confident posture unshaken by the camera crew already waiting outside. He looked well-rested, calm, and every bit the man who had just spent an uninterrupted night alone with one of the most desired women in the villa.
Yuna stepped out behind him, her expression soft but unreadable beneath large sunglasses. She wore one of his shirts—clearly oversized on her—and a soft flush still lingered on her cheeks. Their fingers were loosely intertwined.
They walked in like a couple returning from a honeymoon.
And inside the villa, a bomb had just dropped.
