He lifted his hand and gently traced her cheek, where a faint bruise remained—a ghostly reminder of Robert’s earlier slap at the Harper family’s house.

Fernanda waved a dismissive hand. “You’re free to leave now,” she said firmly.

Cristian arched an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching into a playful smile.

“Really? So heartless? After I made the trip just to see you, you’re not even going to offer me a drink before kicking me out?”

“What’s your preference? I’ll get it,” she replied, softening.

Glancing toward the living room, filled with an unpleasant crowd, Cristian shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips.

“Never mind. How about you join me for a meal tomorrow instead?”

“Absolutely,” Fernanda responded promptly, her tone light and accommodating. “You choose the time and place.”

“Alright.” Cristian affectionately tapped her head, conveying his fondness and comfort silently. “Then I’ll be on my way.”

Fernanda nodded in agreement.

Observing him, Fernanda’s demeanor remained calm and composed, her long hair gently draping over her shoulders. When she wasn’t consciously projecting strength, her essence was tender and graceful.

Beneath the curtain of her dark hair, her soft cheeks framed her eyes, making them appear vivid and piercing. Her red lips added to her youthful appearance, perfectly appropriate for her age. Typically, she exuded an air of authority and control.

Cristian harbored a wish that she could remain forever youthful—radiant, energetic, and brimming with the zest of life, exactly as someone her age ought to be.

“I’m off.” He bent gently and pressed a tender kiss onto her smooth forehead, as though sealing a silent promise. “Sweet dreams.”

Fernanda experienced a gentle warmth emanating from where his lips had touched her, which radiated across her cheeks, trailed down her neck, and suffused her entire being.

Cristian then opened the sliding glass door leading to the balcony, peered discreetly to his left to ensure the coast was clear, and strode confidently to the brink, clutching the railing with one hand before vaulting gracefully over it.

Fernanda rushed to the balcony just in time to see him glide effortlessly from the second-story railing and alight softly on the grass below.

He made his way to the base of the courtyard wall, leaped, and with a fluid motion, landed nimbly atop the wall.

Cristian paused to look back at Fernanda on the balcony, lifting his hand in a fleeting salute, his fingers brushing his brow. The glow of the nearby streetlight illuminated his face, lending a roguish sparkle to his dark eyes.

Then, like a shadow merging into the darkness, he disappeared over the wall, his movements as stealthy and fluid as a panther’s.

A mischievous grin tugged at Fernanda’s lips as she imagined his former mentor discovering Cristian using his training to climb walls.

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