LA PROMESSA: UNA VERITÀ DA BRIVIDI: “SEI MIO FRATELLO CURRO..” PUNTATE DAL 11 AL 15 AGOSTO

 


A distant thunder shatters the uneasy silence over La Promessa. The sharp clatter of carriage hooves echoes on the damp cobblestones, while ominous clouds gather over the ancient towers. The guards feel a chill run down their spines as a name is whispered through the arches — Cruz. But this is not the woman they thought they knew. Veiled and carrying a gaze heavy with secrets, she returns like a storm swirling with suspicion and fear.

Lorenzo clenches his fists until pain shoots through his knuckles. Whispers of revenge mingle with tears of terror. Nothing will escape Cruz’s judgment; every alliance is on the brink of collapse. Will anyone survive her comeback? She’s back to settle old scores — and she will do so on her own terms.

Behind a seemingly innocent painting hides a devastating secret, one that few are prepared to bear. A mysterious box, a coldly spoken name, and a plan unfolding quietly under everyone’s noses. But what exactly lies behind that painting, and why was Sergeant Burdina urgently summoned?

Justice or vengeance? One thing is certain: nothing will ever be the same again.

At the main entrance, Alonso stands gripping his cane, eyes lost somewhere between gratitude and doubt. Unsure whether to smile or scold, he watches Cruz descend from the carriage, dressed all in black. She carries the grandeur of a noble marchioness, but her eyes hold the sorrow of one torn from her past life. Her footsteps strike the courtyard with purpose, gaze fixed on the palace facade. Nostalgia, pride, and pain cloud her face — that house was hers once, but now she regards it coldly.

Alonso greets her with a calm, almost detached voice, uncertain whether to welcome or reject this return. Their eyes meet in a long, silent exchange until the inner doors open, revealing Manuel. His weary, wounded eyes betray nights spent wrestling with grief and anger.

For a moment, Cruz drops her regal composure and offers him a fragile smile — a fleeting glimpse of hope. “My son,” she says, stepping forward to extend a hand as if reaching for a memory. But Manuel doesn’t move, his face taut with tension. “Don’t call me that,” he snaps harshly.

Cruz hesitates, hand frozen mid-air. “I know you’re angry. I didn’t do what they say. I would never have had the courage…” Her voice breaks on that name — Ann. Manuel closes his eyes as if pierced by a dagger. When they open again, tears glisten but rage remains. “Don’t say her name. You have to prove you’re innocent. Until then, don’t call me your son.” His words fall like heavy stones. Cruz feels her heart shatter, her breath fade, eyes burning with pain — yet not a single tear escapes.

Manuel steps back, descends the stairs with determined strides, leaving without looking back. Cruz stands motionless, breath caught in her chest. “My son,” she whispers — but the courtyard wind carries away the sound.

In the days that follow, Cruz’s presence at the palace ignites tensions like a spark in dry straw. Every corridor she crosses, every room she enters, is charged with a mix of respect, fear, and hostility. Yet one person openly despises her: Leocadia. Since Cruz’s return, Leocadia senses her as a direct threat to the power she painstakingly built. To Leocadia, Cruz belongs behind bars — forever.

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Their eyes lock daily, neither willing to concede an inch. The tension reaches a boiling point during their first confrontation in the main hall. Cruz commands the mysterious painting be displayed in a prominent place — she wants everyone to see it. Leocadia appears impeccably dressed, a sly smile playing on her lips as she hangs the portraits with confident hands. Cruz does not turn to look.

“I don’t need to feel like the owner,” Leocadia asserts firmly. “I am, and I always have been. Nothing you do will change that.” She steps closer, heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. “You have always been,” she whispers maliciously. “We’ll see for how long, because your time in prison has been very productive. I’ve earned many allies, including the marquis, and soon I will reclaim everything that was once yours.”

Cruz lifts her gaze, fixing Leocadia with a chilling smile. “What exactly do you mean?” Leocadia bows elegantly, voice low and venomous: “Alonso will never be alone again. The ground is marked. Darkness approaches. I need someone who holds a firm grip on the palace — someone you could never oppose. And that role, rest assured, will be mine. Very soon, Cruz, the title of Marchioness will be mine.” Her promise cuts like a blade.

Cruz’s eyes blaze. “You’re nothing but an annoying guest,” she replies firmly. “You think secrets or blackmail will save you?” “Never!” The words weigh down years of battles, accusations, and tension accumulated in the palace’s decaying court — an intricate ecosystem of rivalries and revelations, as if everyone were a piece in a high-aristocracy game.

Leocadia’s sarcastic smile widens. “You were already dancing on the edge of accusations, Cruz, and your son Manuel doesn’t want to see you. I’ve read it in his eyes — he hates you.”

It’s a raw wound in Cruz’s heart, humiliation sinking deep into her bones. But she refuses to bow, lifting her chin with pride, eyes steady and cold. “You can try as much as you want, but I will always return and find a way to destroy you, Leocadia — once and for all.”

These words echo through the silent corridors. Pia, passing nearby, stops at the doorway and swallows hard. The servants exchange anxious glances, bracing for the inevitable explosion.

The next day, the rivalry between Cruz and Leocadia is palpable throughout the palace. Every meal becomes a battlefield. Cruz orders dishes that Leocadia ruthlessly criticizes, scrutinizing every detail with venomous tones. Leocadia responds by summoning the servants late at night to her room. Corridors fill with whispers and stealthy footsteps echoing against cold walls and luxurious curtains.

“Do you think you have any power here, Leocadia?” Cruz shouts one night, voice trembling with intensity. “I have more.”

A duel of cutting words, promises of revenge and destruction, and piercing glances ensues — the tension of an aristocratic drama unfolding in full force.

Meanwhile, wounded by Manuel’s harsh words, Cruz refuses to surrender and desperately seeks to reclaim her son’s trust. The battle for family, honor, and power is just beginning.

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