Morning crept in too quietly for Luiz's liking.The studio's fluorescent lights buzzed above him as if mocking how little sleep he'd gotten. His body moved on instinct — sweeping, wiping, mopping — but his mind wasn't there.
It was still back at the park.With Clara.
Her words kept replaying in his head — "You don't always have to pretend."Simple, but they echoed deeper than he wanted to admit.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could still see her face under the streetlight, her voice low and calm, like she'd seen through all his defenses. It scared him — how much peace one person could bring into a life built on chaos.
"Monroe!"Mr. Giles's bark snapped him back.
Luiz straightened immediately, gripping the mop tighter. "Yes, sir?"
"You're not here to daydream," Giles said, flipping through his clipboard. "Studio 3A needs a quick cleanup before the producers come in. And don't cause another mess like last time."
"Yes, sir," Luiz muttered, hurrying down the hall.
The morning rush had already begun — artists arriving with entourage, stylists shouting into phones, someone dragging a speaker cart through the hallway. The world above the basement was always louder, shinier, more alive.
And yet, he felt completely invisible among them.
As he entered Studio 3A, he saw the same silver-haired singer from before — the one he'd spilled water on. She stood near the recording booth, scrolling through her phone. When her eyes caught his reflection in the mirror, her expression tightened.
"Careful where you walk, cleaner," she said dryly without looking up.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, keeping his tone even.
He cleaned quietly, head down, pretending not to hear her giggling to her assistant. The sting didn't come from her words — it came from what they reminded him of.He used to belong to a world like hers. Now, he scrubbed its floors.
By the time he finished, the ache in his back matched the heaviness in his chest. He stepped outside, taking a breath near the emergency exit — a rare pocket of quiet air.
His thoughts drifted again. Clara's hand on his chest. Her eyes. The sound of water in the fountain.For the first time in weeks, he'd felt human again.
But hope came with danger.He knew it.He'd seen what the Valentine name did to anyone who got too close.
"Thinking too hard again?"The familiar voice made him turn.
Darius stood by the gate, his usual worn jacket slung over one shoulder. He'd been the one who helped Luiz get the fake identity, and seeing him here meant only one thing — something was wrong.
"You shouldn't be here," Luiz said quietly.
"Relax," Darius muttered. "Just came to check on you. Word around the docks is your family's still looking for loose ends."
Luiz's stomach tightened. "And you came to remind me I'm one of them?"
"Pretty much." Darius half-smiled, then tossed a folded newspaper toward him. "But also to tell you — keep your head down. Trouble's circling again."
Luiz glanced at the headline, but it wasn't about the Valentine family. It was about a massive music partnership involving the very same studio he worked for — one his cousin's company had funded.
So that was it. He was back in their world again.Just lower this time.
Darius watched him. "You okay, kid?"
Luiz folded the paper slowly. "No. But I'm still standing."
"Good," Darius said. "Stay that way."
He left before Luiz could answer. The hallway filled with sound again — laughter, footsteps, music spilling from nearby rooms.
Luiz slipped the newspaper into his locker, his hands trembling slightly.No matter how far he tried to run from the Valentine empire, it kept finding new ways to pull him back in.
He leaned his head against the cold metal, whispering to himself,"Just one day at a time."