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."

noting the increased presence, and immediately thought of the earlier conversation about the

Naomi. It won't affect our

Andre preferred to keep a low profile, valuing privacy above all. He hated having a trail of

Hansen, prompting him to call Andre. "Son, what's

to protect Mia and the kid. If it's too much, I'll

with the

been photographed," Andre replied

Andre stood in a warehouse, a

ground, surrounded by stacks of miscellaneous

surroundings. He turned, the shine of his shoes snuffing out smoldering cigarette stubs as he walked, phone in hand, toward a

at the door, with three more on each side of the

as a blade, settled on the bruised

perused

darkness emanating from him as he rubbed his hands together. The man avoided meeting Andre's gaze, his swollen eyes painful, barely a slit open. But that slit widened with fear when he dared look at Andre. The silence was eerie, the henchmen

Andre's cold voice stretched out, "A photographer can't

men understood, closing in

as he locked gaze with the brooding decision-maker across from him. "What are you going to

stood and turned away, his presence

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

when are you coming home?

to the distant screams behind him, calmly replying to his wife.

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

"Let him play then. You get some rest, I'll put him to bed