The truth arrived, quite literally, with a bang.
Carlos had just stepped through the front door, suitcase in hand, smile ready, rehearsed excuse about a “conference in Geneva” on his tongue. In reality, his week had been spent dismantling a cartel in Mexico....blood, fire, whispered orders in alleyways. But here, back in their neat little house in the suburbs, he left all that at the door. Here, he was just Carlos, the husband who mowed the lawn too perfectly.

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