“Are you all right, Miss?”

The voice stopped Vania in her tracks on the front porch, just as she was about to walk away from the dinner table still echoing with insults.

She turned. A man stood by the gate, leaning casually against a sleek black car with the door half open. He looked to be in his late thirties, dressed in a tailored suit, his smile warm—yet far too intense for someone she had just met.

“Me?” Vania tried to keep her voice steady, though her heart still throbbed with anger and hurt. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look like it,” the man replied, stepping closer with measured, non-threatening strides....