Louco por mim: Chega, marido!

As dark as spilled ink, the night descended with a ferocity and swiftness that stained the once-lurid sky a deep black, leaving only a scattering of cold, distant stars.

In the inner chamber of the Presidential Suite at the Jinshe City International Hotel, the lavish crystal chandelier flickered incessantly, casting sudden bursts of light and shadow that mingled to create a dangerous, almost supernatural atmosphere within the room.

Desire drifted through the air; the mingled sounds of heavy, primal breathing formed a symphony of shameless indulgence that would leave cheeks burning red. Suddenly, a low, intoxicating voice, rich and smooth as aged wine, sounded from the balcony.

“Tsk tsk, such unbridled passion, Boss Cheng. Aren’t you just asking for trouble?”

The licentious sounds halted abruptly. The woman screamed. The man rolled off the bed in a flash, grabbing a robe and throwing it around himself, then shouted furiously toward the balcony, “Who’s there?”

This was the 118th floor—how could anyone have slipped in without a trace?

Out on the balcony, veiled by nearly transparent drapes, a tall, lean silhouette could be seen—like a beast lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike. In the flickering light, a silenced pistol suddenly angled out from the darkness.

“I am the Reaper come to send you on your way.” Under the chill of starlight, the man’s wicked black eyes held an icy, merciless gleam. The moment his words fell, a deadly bullet, never missing its mark, pierced the thin drapes and struck Boss Cheng squarely in the forehead