HAMPTON-STYLE VILLA ★
The night after the concert was anything but calm.
Cathryn's room looked like a hurricane had ripped through it — designer clothes flung across the marble floor, makeup palettes shattered, perfume bottles dripping sweet, sticky liquid onto the rug. The golden chandelier above swung faintly, a reminder of the chaos she'd just unleashed in her rage.
Outside her locked door, Caroline and Sabrina exchanged worried glances. They had seen everything tonight — the way Hardin leaned close to Tessa, the charged look in his eyes — and they'd also seen Cathryn storm out before the final song. They had followed her straight back to the villa, their heels clicking against the driveway like a warning drum.
Caroline knocked gently at first.
"Cathryn?"
"Don't f**king disturb me! I want to be alone," came the muffled, venom-laced reply.
Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Cathryn, you can't be serious right now. Don't tell me you're actually in love with Hardin. You know him. He doesn't do love — he's a flirt, a player, the kind of man who ruins girls for sport."
Caroline tried again, her voice firmer this time. "Please, just open the damn door."
"I said leave me alone! I'm fine!"
Sabrina crossed her arms, frustration flaring. "Fine. If you want to wallow in self-pity over a guy, that's your business. Something's messing with your brain, girl. You're not thinking straight." She turned to leave.
Caroline shot her a glare. "You're just gonna let her hurt herself?"
"What do you want me to do, Caroline? She won't open the door!" Sabrina snapped, walking away without waiting for an answer.
Caroline lingered outside the door, pressing her forehead against the smooth wood. Her voice softened. "Cathryn… I'll give you space. Just don't do anything stupid in there, okay?" With a heavy sigh, she stepped away too.
INSIDE – CATHRYN'S ROOM
Cathryn sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in hand, scrolling through her feed like she was hunting for prey. Her glossy hair clung to her face, damp from angry tears she refused to acknowledge. Post after post showed them — Hardin and Tessa, the bright lights of the stage making them look like they belonged together. Every smile, every close-up, felt like a knife.
Her thumb stilled when she saw a tagged profile.
Tessa Cristin.
She clicked.
The profile opened to reveal a curated gallery of photos — Tessa laughing with friends, Tessa at fan meets, Tessa wearing the same limited-edition dress Cathryn had once been photographed in.
A slow, wicked smile curved Cathryn's lips. "Oh… she's a fan of mine. Interesting."
Her reflection in the phone's black screen looked almost unrecognizable — dark eyes glittering with something sharper than jealousy.
"Perfect," she whispered to herself. "I'll make her think we're friends. I'll let her get comfortable, trust me… and then I'll ruin her. Piece by piece."
Cathryn leaned back against her silk pillows, the image of Tessa and Hardin still burning in her mind.
"Hardin, you're mine. And if I can't have you without competition, I'll make sure no girl dares come near you again. Not after I'm done."
Her laughter — low, cold, and deliciously cruel — echoed through the empty room, seeping into the shadows like poison.
SMALL APARTMENT ★
The hallway outside Mrs. Cristin's former apartment reeked of damp plaster and cigarette smoke. Two men stood in the flickering light of a faulty bulb, their shadows stretching long across the peeling wallpaper.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A huge man, his forearms thick as tree trunks, slammed his fist into the door hard enough to rattle it on its hinges.
"So they actually left… without paying back their loans," he growled, his voice deep enough to make the air vibrate.
Beside him, a wiry man with sunken cheeks leaned in, lips curling into a sick grin. "Then maybe it's time we do what we should've done a long time ago…" His eyes glittered with malice. "Her daughter — Tessa, right? The pretty little thing. She could serve as collateral. With looks like that… she'd make a perfect seventh wife for you, Cobra."
The big man, Cobra, chuckled darkly, the sound low and dangerous. "Seventh wife… I like the sound of that. I don't need the money anymore. Having her would be payment enough."
The wiry man smirked. "Then… you know what to do."
Cobra's eyes hardened. "Find her."
As they turned and disappeared down the dimly lit hallway, the faulty bulb above the door finally went out — plunging the place into darkness.
ITALY ★
THE RICCO MANSION
Don Ricco held a photograph in his hand — an old, worn image of a beautiful woman holding two identical baby girls. His thumb brushed over their faces as his mind slipped into the past.
Flashback — 19 years ago
The wails of newborn twins filled the air. Mrs. Cristin, drenched in sweat, collapsed back against her pillows, breathless from the effort.
"Don, your wife has given birth to bouncing twin girls," the midwife announced with pride.
"What?" Ricco's voice was cold and sharp. "Girls? I needed boys… heirs."
"Take me to her," he ordered, rising from his chair.
Inside the bedroom, Mrs. Cristin smiled weakly, holding the swaddled newborns.
"Darling… our children," she whispered.
Ricco's eyes swept over the girls, but instead of pride, there was only disappointment. Without a word, he turned and left.
"Is anything wrong?" Mrs Cristin asked the midwife.
"No… just rest. You've been through a lot," the midwife soothed.
Days later...
"I can't keep living like this," Mrs Cristin said, voice trembling with controlled anger. "I gave you two healthy children, yet you treat them like they don't belong to you. You've never visited them, never held them. If you want an heir so badly, marry someone else. I'm leaving with my children."
She strapped one baby to her back, cradled the other in her arms, and picked up her luggage.
"Goodbye," she said firmly, heading for the door.
Ricco grabbed her arm.
"You're my wife. You go nowhere. You'll keep giving birth until you produce a son. Now put those children down and get back in bed."
"What are you trying to do? I just gave birth—we can't have sèx"
"Who said so?" His tone was ice.
He ripped the child from her arms, dropping her roughly into a tiny crib. The other he yanked from her back.
"Ricco!" she screamed as both girls began to wail.
He ignored them, tearing at her dress and shoving her onto the bed. As he unbuckled his belt, Cristin's eyes darted to the bedside table. She grabbed a glass and smashed it against his head.
Ricco roared, blood trickling down his temple. Cristin clutched both babies, running for the door.
"Tessa, Tricia… you're with Mama now. You'll be fine," she whispered, rocking them as she fled.
"Stop them!" Ricco bellowed.
Guards gave chase. One grabbed Tricia from her arms, but Cristin held Tessa tight and disappeared into the night.
"Boss, we couldn't catch her — only one child," a guard reported.
Ricco staggered out, bloodied but smirking. "She'll come back for the other one. Until then, she stays with me."
He lifted the rescued infant, noticing a small pendant around her neck: Tricia.
"So you're Tricia… welcome to your new life," he said with a cruel grin.
End of flashback*
"It's been nineteen years… and you never came back," Ricco murmured at the photograph. "Tricia is doing just fine without you, Elena. She took after me — and that's why I kept her."
The door burst open.
"Father!" Tricia strode in, her face a perfect reflection of Tessa's.
"What is it?" Ricco asked flatly.
"I want you to take revenge for me. A guy stepped on my shoes."
"You could deal with him yourself."
"No. I want his whole family gone. Let that be a warning to anyone who dares step on Tricia Ricco's shoes."
Ricco chuckled. "Alright, alright."
"Thanks, Dad. Love you," she said sweetly, before walking out.
Ricco smirked at the door after she left, then turned back to the picture.
"Elena Cristin… maybe it's time I went for the other child. Girls aren't so bad after all."
His laugh rolled through the empty hall — deep, dangerous, and dripping with malice.
DOWNTOWN CONCERT ARENA – OUTSIDE
"Tessa, you're really lucky!" Mulan gushed, still riding the high of the concert. "Do you realize what Hardin just did to you in there?"
"Lucky?!" Tessa stopped in her tracks, glaring. "He poured water all over me and bit my neck! I'm pretty sure he's insane. Someone should admit him to a psychiatric hospital."
Mulan's grin only widened. "Do you know how many girls would die for Hardin to do that to them? Be happy, girl."
Tessa pointed at her soaked top. "And what about this?"
"You're coming to my dorm," Mulan declared. "You can change, and I'll dry that one for you."
Tessa sighed. "Fine. Thanks. Let's go."
As they walked, Mulan leaned closer, her voice dropping to a dreamy tone. "So… how did it feel? Being that close to such a hot guy. His scent… oh my God, I can imagine."
"Can you not?" Tessa snapped, her irritation flaring.
"Yes, ma'am. Hardin White's babe," Mulan teased, unable to resist.
"Would you shut up?" Tessa kicked off one shoe and aimed it at her friend, who dodged it with a laugh.
"You really gonna hit me?" Mulan giggled.
"Keep talking, and I won't hesitate," Tessa warned.
"Alright, alright, I'm done," Mulan said, still smiling as she bent to pick up the shoe. She handed it back, and Tessa slipped it on. Without another word, they flagged down a cab and headed back to the dorm.
BACKSTAGE★
"Damn, that was so hot. That girl's gonna have a lot of enemies now," Jordan said, laughing.
"I saw Cathryn storming out," Capri added.
"Yeah, me too. I almost laughed, but I remembered I was still on stage," Anderson said. "So she actually thinks you like her? Oh, she's just a dummy."
Hardin wasn't even listening. The noise of the arena still echoed in his skull, but louder than the crowd was that old, familiar ringing. It crawled deep into his left ear, drowning out their voices.
He'd had problems with his hearing since he was nine — ever since that night, the accident, the screaming, the shattering glass. Both his parents were to blame. That was why he hated them both.
"Hardin… Hardin." Jordan's voice was faint, muffled, as if coming through water.
Hardin blinked, forcing his focus back. "I… I'm going to pee," he muttered, already moving toward the hallway.
"Is he alright?" Jordan asked.
"I don't think so," Capri said, concern flickering across his face.
"I think we should go after him," Anderson replied, already stepping forward.
HALLWAY – BACKSTAGE BATHROOM*
The door swung shut behind him, cutting off the noise from the arena. Hardin gripped the sink, staring at his reflection. His breathing was uneven. That ringing in his ear was still there, crawling under his skin.
He closed his eyes. And just like that—
FLASHBACK – 11 YEARS AGO
The shouting had started again.
Nine-year-old Hardin sat at the top of the stairs, knees pulled to his chest, listening to his parents rip each other apart in the living room. Plates shattered. A chair scraped across the floor.
His father's, Mr White voice was deep, like thunder. Mrs white cries were sharp and high, cutting straight through him. He wanted to run to his room, but his legs wouldn't move.
Then—
CRASH.
A heavy wine bottle flew across the room. It missed his Mrs white by inches and slammed into the wall right beside him.
The sound was deafening. Glass exploded, and a violent ringing swallowed the world. Pain tore through his left ear.
He dropped to the floor, clutching the side of his head. Mrs White screamed his name, but her voice was muffled, distant, like it was trapped underwater.
Hours later, in the hospital, a doctor knelt beside his bed. "Permanent hearing loss… I'm sorry, son. The damage can't be reversed."
From that night on, Hardin never trusted distance. If he wanted to hear someone really hear them ,he had to be close enough to feel their breath.
.
STREET LEADING TO THE WHITES' MANSION –11PM*
Tessa stepped out of Mulan's dorm, now wearing her dry clothes, her hair still a little damp. The night air was crisp, the quiet streets a far cry from the chaos of the concert.
She adjusted her bag and started down the tree-lined road. The Whites' mansion wasn't really far just a an hour walk — and she liked the peace after a long day.
But halfway there, she noticed it.
Footsteps. Behind her.
She slowed. They slowed. She sped up. They matched her pace.
A cold prickle ran down her neck. She turned, and her stomach dropped — three men were following, their smirks catching the pale light from the streetlamps.
"Evening, princess," one of them called.
She ignored them and kept walking.
In seconds, one was in front of her, blocking her path. "Where you headed all alone? The big house up there?" His eyes flicked toward the mansion gates in the distance.
"I don't know you," she said flatly, trying to sidestep.
A rough hand grabbed her arm. "Maybe we should get to know each other."
"Let go!" She tried to pull away, but another man circled behind her, fingers trailing across her back.
Her heart raced. She shoved him, but he only laughed.
"Don't be shy," he said, yanking at her jacket. The zipper popped. The third man grabbed the hem of her top and jerked it, the sound of fabric tearing splitting the quiet night.
Panic surged in her chest. She twisted, fought, kicked — but they were all around her, shadows pressing close.
And then—
A voice cut through the night, low and razor-sharp:
"Take one more step toward her… and I'll make sure you never walk again."
The men froze.
A figure emerged from the darkness — tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black. His face was unreadable, but his eyes… cold enough to kill.
Tessa's breath hitched. She'd never seen him before in her life.
"Who're you?" one of the men boldly asked.
The stranger's lips curved into something between a smirk and a warning.
"Someone you dare not to know."