CUBAN HIRE (CARTEL GXG)

BROKEN LEGACY

It had been a tense and charged week since that moment at the shooting range. The air between Ezmeralda and Olivia had shifted, crackling with unspoken words and lingering tension. Yet, with Ezmeralda consumed by her work and Olivia trying to settle back into her old routine at the office, there hadn't been much time to reignite that spark. They fell into a rhythm that felt strange to both of them, almost like they were playing house—Olivia walking into their apartment with takeout bags in hand while Ezmeralda worked late into the night, her fingers typing furiously on her laptop.

There was an understanding between them, unspoken yet increasingly difficult to ignore. This wasn't about love. It was never supposed to be about love. Olivia kept hearing Maria's voice echoing in her mind, those cautionary words from Cuba. She's not the type for romance. And despite the occasional tenderness, the truth of it hung between them like a shadow.

Today, though, was different. The house Ezmeralda had spoken of, the one they were meant to share in Miami, was finally ready. Olivia stood in the middle of her room, groaning in frustration as she surveyed the mess she was drowning in—piles of clothes, shoes, and miscellaneous items scattered across the floor and her bed. "All this money, and she couldn't even send some movers," Olivia muttered to herself, rubbing her temple as she tried to figure out where to start.

She had always been chaotic when it came to her personal space, her room a reflection of the whirlwind in her life. Organization was a skill she reserved for work, where everything had its place, where every file and document was meticulously categorized. Here, though, in her own space, it was a different story.

"You're like Phoebe," Carlos's voice cut through the silence, making Olivia jump. She hadn't heard him approach. He stood at the doorframe, arms crossed, casually leaning against it with a smirk on his face.

Olivia shot him a glare, her heart still pounding from the surprise. "You scared me!" she snapped, but the irritation quickly faded as she turned back to her disorganized room. "I don't even know where to start with all this," she groaned, gesturing toward the chaos surrounding her.

Carlos chuckled, stepping further into the room as he eyed the mountain of shoes and clothes. "Why bother? Tell Ezme to send some people in. They do what she says, even if it means packing up a thousand heels." He paused, picking up one of the many shoes scattered on the floor. "Dios mío, you have a lot of shoes."

Olivia blinked, surprised by the suggestion. She'd never considered that she could ask for help with something as trivial as packing. "Wait... I can do that?" she asked, the relief evident in her voice as she took a careful step out of the piles.

Carlos flashed her a knowing smirk, as if the answer were obvious. "You're El Jefa's wife, no?" he said, his tone teasing as he continued to puzzle over her mismatched shoes.

The words hung in the air for a moment, sinking in. Olivia had never really thought of it like that. She was, technically, married to one of the most powerful criminal in Miami. The same respect people gave to Ezmeralda was extended to her, even if she didn't fully feel like she deserved it. "I guess I am," she murmured, a small smirk creeping onto her face as she considered the new possibilities.

With newfound confidence, Olivia left the mess of her room behind and walked out into the living room where Ezmeralda was sitting on the couch, engrossed in whatever was on her laptop screen. Carlos trailed behind her silently.

"Ezmeralda..." Olivia began, her tone soft yet playful as she clasped her hands behind her back, an innocent smile dancing on her lips.

"Qué?" Ezmeralda replied, her voice distracted as she continued typing, her eyes fixed on the email she was composing.