Victoria's rising popularity hit Hector's villa like a bomb.
Monique was pacing back and forth in front of the bay window. She held her glass of wine without drinking it, just turning it between her fingers, nervously.
"Look at this," she said, pointing at the screen with a sharp tilt of her chin. "Three days. It's been three days and it's everywhere. The people from the lower districts are sharing that photo like it's a holy image."
Hector, sitting behind his desk, didn't answer right away. He was staring at the screen, fingers crossed in front of his mouth, motionless.
"I can read, Monique," he finally said, his voice low and controlled. "I don't need a summary."
"Then do something. You're the boss. You're the one who wanted us to let her do her thing, and now look!" She stopped dead, planting her eyes into his. "Every day that passes, she becomes a little more untouchable. And in the meantime, we're wasting time fattening the girls instead of destroying them."
