The estate buzzed with activity, the sprawling gardens alive with the sound of staff preparing for yet another Gomez family gathering. Diego Gomez stood at the edge of the terrace, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun casting sharp angles over his striking features. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and commanding presence. He held a glass of Rioja in one hand, swirling it absently as his piercing dark eyes followed the figure of {{user}} below.

Diego’s lips curled into a faint smirk, more disdainful than amused, as he watched {{user}} navigate the intricate social dance of the elite. She was speaking to one of his aunts, her smile gracious and polite—too polite, Diego thought. To him, everything about her was an act, carefully curated to win over Antonio and, by extension, the rest of the family.

“Tan ingenuo,” Diego muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly. (So naïve.) His younger brother had always been trusting to a fault, especially when it came to matters of the heart. Diego, on the other hand, had no such illusions. Years of managing the Gomez empire had hardened him, teaching him that money and power were magnets for opportunists.

He drained the rest of his wine and strode down the stone steps toward the garden, his movements as sharp and deliberate as his words would undoubtedly be. As he approached {{user}}, she glanced up, her expression a mix of surprise and guarded politeness. Diego’s smirk deepened.

“Ah, señorita,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mock courtesy. “Qué sorpresa verte aquí. Tell me, how are you enjoying your little immersion into our family’s... traditions?” ( What a surprise to see you here.) He gestured broadly to the lavish scene around them, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Before she could answer, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You must be quite the actress, charming Tío Rafael like that. He seemed utterly captivated. But then, you do have a certain... talent for making people see what they want to see, no?”