CRIMSON WEAVE

The dim light of the penthouse flickered as Osvaldo sat in his leather armchair, nursing a glass of scotch. The once pristine and orderly space now bore signs of disarray—papers strewn across the coffee table, half-empty bottles scattered on the counter, and the faint smell of burnt cigars lingering in the air.

Osvaldo Santiago was not the man he once was. Once a suave, ambitious businessman with an air of confidence that could charm anyone, he teetered on the edge of obsession. His jaw clenched as he stared at the photo on his phone: Azalea at a gala, her radiant smile aimed at the man beside her—Ambrose Levi.

Osvaldo's grip on the glass tightened until it cracked, amber liquid spilling over his hand.

"She's flaunting him," he muttered to himself.

"Flaunting who?" came a voice from behind.

Osvaldo turned to see his best friend, Gabriel, leaning casually against the doorway. Gabriel had been his confidant for years, though their relationship was strained ever since the affair that ended Osvaldo's marriage.

"Azalea," Osvaldo growled.

Gabriel smirked, stepping into the room. "Still hung up on her, huh? Didn't you say you were done?"

Osvaldo shot him a glare. "I'm not hung up. I just… I hate that she's acting like everything is perfect now. Like she didn't waste years with me."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "From where I'm standing, you're the one who wasted it. You cheated on her, remember?"

Osvaldo slammed the glass onto the table. "Don't remind me." He stood, pacing the room. "You don't get it. She's thriving, Gabriel. Her company is expanding, she's got that billionaire wrapped around her finger, and me? I'm left here like some footnote in her story."

Gabriel shrugged. "Maybe you should move on. Find someone else, someone who doesn't make you feel like this."

Osvaldo stopped pacing and turned to face Gabriel, his expression dark. "No. Azalea doesn't get to move on like that. She doesn't get to forget about me."

Gabriel's smirk faded. "You sound obsessed, Osvaldo. This isn't healthy."

Osvaldo ignored him, grabbing his phone and dialing a number. Gabriel watched, a hint of concern creeping into his expression.

A Meeting in Shadows

A few days later, Osvaldo sat in the back booth of a dimly lit bar, his eyes scanning the room. Across from him sat a man with a thin scar running down his cheek, his demeanor calm but dangerous.

"You're sure about this?" the man asked, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Osvaldo leaned forward. "I'm not paying you to ask questions. Just do what I asked."

The man smirked. "Fair enough. But going after someone like Ambrose Levi? That's a risky game. You know who he is, right?"

"I know enough," Osvaldo replied, his voice low and tense.

The man shrugged. "Your money, your problem. But if this goes south, don't expect a refund."

Osvaldo nodded, sliding an envelope across the table. The man opened it, glanced at the stack of cash inside, and pocketed it without a word.

Azalea's Office

Meanwhile, in Paris, Azalea sat at her sleek glass desk, reviewing sketches for Scarlet Vogue's upcoming collection. Her assistant, Lily, stood nearby, holding a tablet and rattling off updates.

"The Milan show is confirmed for next month," Lily said. "And the fabric samples from Levi Textiles arrived this morning. Should I schedule a meeting with Mr. Levi to discuss this?"

Azalea's lips curved into a faint smile. "Yes, but let's keep it professional. No need to roll out the red carpet."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Professional? You and Mr. Levi? That's a first."

Azalea shot her a warning look, but Lily only grinned.

"Relax, boss. I'm just saying, the man's smitten. And honestly, who wouldn't be? He's handsome, charming, and loaded. You could do worse."

Azalea sighed, setting down her pen. "This isn't about him. I have a business to run, Lily. Distractions aren't part of the plan."

"Distractions?" Lily teased. "You've been glowing lately. If that's what distractions do, maybe you should embrace them."

Before Azalea could respond, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, her smile fading.

"Everything okay?" Lily asked, noticing the shift in her expression.

"It's nothing," Azalea said quickly, but her voice betrayed her unease.

In truth, the message was from an unknown number:

"You think you've won, but this isn't over. – O."

Azalea's grip tightened on the phone, her mind racing. She hadn't heard from Osvaldo in months, and she had hoped it would stay that way.

A Confrontation

Later that evening, Azalea returned to her penthouse, her mind still preoccupied with the message. She was startled to find Osvaldo waiting for her in the lobby, leaning casually against a marble column.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice cold.

Osvaldo straightened, his smile lacking any warmth. "Is that how you greet an old friend?"

"We're not friends," Azalea replied. "Whatever you want, say it quickly and leave."

Osvaldo stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I want to talk, Azalea. About us."

"There is no 'us,'" she said firmly. "Not anymore."

His smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of desperation. "You can't just erase me from your life. We were married Azalea. I know I made mistakes, but I loved you."

"Loved me?" Azalea's voice rose, her anger barely contained. "You betrayed me, Osvaldo. You don't get to play the victim now."

Osvaldo's jaw tightened. "I made one mistake—"

"More than one," she interrupted. "And I won't let you drag me back into your mess."

Osvaldo took a step back, his expression darkening. "You've changed," he said bitterly. "You think you're better than me now, don't you?"

Azalea crossed her arms. "I've grown, Osvaldo. Something you should try."

He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You might think you're untouchable, but everyone has their weaknesses. Even you."

Azalea's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"

"Just an observation," he replied, turning to leave. "Enjoy your perfect little life while it lasts."

As he walked away, Azalea felt a chill run down her spine. She knew Osvaldo well enough to recognize the danger in his words.

Osvaldo's Descent

Back in his penthouse, Osvaldo stared at the photos spread across his desk—images of Azalea with Ambrose at various events. His jealousy burned like a fire, consuming any rational thought.

"She doesn't get to forget me," he muttered.

He picked up his phone and dialed another number. "It's me. I need everything you can find on Ambrose Levi. Personal, professional—everything."

As he ended the call, a twisted smile played on his lips. If he couldn't have Azalea, he would make sure no one else could either.

Osvaldo didn't just want to ruin her relationship with Ambrose; he wanted to destroy the life she had built without him. And he wouldn't stop until he succeeded.