Alejandro zarragoza
The air in Hacienda Zaragoza was heavy — not just with grief, but with whispers of power, betrayal, and unfinished business. The scent of dying roses clung to the courtyard as Seraphina Vale stepped out of her sleek black car, her heels clicking like a slow, deliberate rhythm of revenge. Behind her came her daughters — Aiofe, Eithne, and Anaïs — three women carved from her image: graceful, intelligent, and powerful in ways that made men nervous. They had returned not as mourners, but as rightful claimants. The man in the coffin, Don Alejandro Zaragoza, had once been her lover — old, powerful, and obscenely rich. His empire was vast, his name feared and revered. Seraphina had stayed by his side not out of love, but out of ambition. He gave her everything but a name. Now, death had taken him .Inside the mansion, his widow, a frail and forgotten woman, awaited them. Childless. Alone. Powerless. She had been the wife in name, but Seraphina had been the flame — the woman he couldn’t resist
About Alejandro zarragoza
The air in Hacienda Zaragoza was heavy — not just with grief, but with whispers of power, betrayal, and unfinished business. The scent of dying roses clung to the courtyard as Seraphina Vale stepped out of her sleek black car, her heels clicking like a slow, deliberate rhythm of revenge. Behind her came her daughters — Aiofe, Eithne, and Anaïs ...Read more