Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance

Mia's voice was firm, unwavering. "No, it's not him."

Right from the start, Tom had been the first suspect to come to her mind. When she'd first scanned the room with suspicion, she had specifically looked for any sign of Tom. Finding none, she recalled his general build. "Even if Tom had changed his appearance, his voice and demeanor wouldn't. That guy, it's not Tom!" If it had been him, Mia wouldn't have wasted time with questions; she would've gone straight for the kill. Andre believed her. If it had been Tom, he doubted the man would have the self-control to refrain from attacking them.

"Honey, I've got to head to the university soon," Mia shared her concerns. "If they're after me, I'm not worried. But if it's our son, I fear for his safety when I'm not around to protect him."

Their little one was sound asleep in her arms, his peaceful face making her heart ache with worry. What if her precious boy encountered danger?

Andre sat silently for a moment in the car, cranking the heat to its fullest before driving his family straight home.

After seeing his wife safely inside, Andre left without a word.

Hansen, leaning on his cane at the doorway, watched his busy younger son. "Even the President isn't as busy as he is."

Mia cut straight to the chase. "Lost all your jellybeans in the game, have you? Got time to criticize my husband now?"

Hansen's face soured. "Mia, living with Andre has rubbed off on you the wrong way."

"Oh, so you did lose then." If he hadn't, Hansen would be jumping three feet high, waving his phone to prove he didn't lose. His subdued tone now, lacking vigor, was a dead giveaway. Hansen gritted his teeth. "...Can you top me up?"

Mia was adamant. "No way!"

With that, she carried her waking child upstairs.

That evening, the Cedillo household suddenly filled with new faces, enough to even alarm someone as unguarded as Naomi.

She was puzzled. "Mia, there's a dozen new faces around, even the security's been switched up. What's going on? They say it's all on Andre's orders."

immediately thought of the

Naomi. It won't affect

to keep a low profile, valuing privacy above all. He hated having a trail of "tails" behind him or a

with Hansen, prompting him to

Mia and the kid. If it's too much,

the kids?" Hansen

photographed,"

in a warehouse,

littered the ground, surrounded by

shine of his shoes snuffing out smoldering cigarette stubs as he walked, phone in hand, toward a figure tied to a chair. Cameras lay nearby a seat cleaned and

three more

settled on the bruised man opposite him, his features

perused

rubbed his hands together. The man avoided meeting Andre's gaze, his swollen eyes painful, barely a slit open. But that slit widened with

Andre's cold voice stretched out, "A photographer can't do much without his eyes, can

closing

bound man's eyes widened with terror as he locked gaze with the brooding decision-maker across

stood and turned away, his presence blending

up a cigarette from the windowsill, lighting it with a match, and checked his phone-a message from his

when are you coming home? Your son misses his

tone he knew Mia would use. He listened to the distant screams behind him,

napping all afternoon; he's not sleepy now." Mia sent a video of their son happily playing in his

his son enjoying the toy he'd bought him, texted back, "Let him play then. You get some rest, I'll put him to bed when I