The sweet aroma of flowers wafted through the shop as Lia arranged a bouquet. Her fingers worked mechanically, her mind elsewhere. The events of the previous night replayed in her head. Rhys's lips on hers, the way his touch lingered, as though he couldn't let go.
She shook her head, dismissing the thoughts. "Focus, Lia," she muttered under her breath.
The chime of the bell above the door startled her. Looking up, she saw two unfamiliar men enter, their suits tailored and their demeanor commanding.
"Miss Lia?" one of them asked, his tone polite but firm.
"Yes?" she replied cautiously, her grip tightening on the bouquet.
"We've been sent to escort you. Please, come with us."
"Escort me?" Lia frowned, her pulse quickening.
"It's a precautionary measure. Padrino wants you to see a doctor."
Of course, she had heard some men refer to Rhys by that name at home. The mention of Rhys sent a shiver down her spine. She hesitated, glancing around the shop. Another staff who worked on temporay basis raised an eyebrow but didn't intervene.
"Alright," she said finally, setting the bouquet down.
As the men led her outside, a sleek black car pulled up. One of them opened the door for her, and she slid into the backseat, her anxiety mounting. The car stopped at a secluded entrance to a private hospital. Lia stepped out, her unease growing. Rhys wasn't there to greet her, but she was ushered inside quickly.
She found herself in a pristine examination room, where a doctor was already waiting. "Miss Lia, please have a seat," the man said, gesturing to the chair.
As the examination began, Lia's mind raced. Why was Rhys so insistent on this? Was he worried about her? Or was this another calculated move?
****************************************************************************
Meanwhile, Rhys entered the private quarters of his long-time confidant, Nene. He was a psychological doctor but he never presents himself as one. The room was chaotic—papers strewn across the desk, a half-eaten sandwich on the table, and Nene himself looking as disheveled as ever.
"You're a mess," Rhys remarked, his tone dry.
"And you're a pain," Nene shot back, pushing his glasses up. "What do you want this time?"
Rhys pulled up a chair, his expression unusually serious. "Something's wrong, Nene. I need your help."
Nene straightened, his playful demeanor fading. "What happened?"
"I'm... drawn to someone," Rhys admitted, his voice low.
Nene froze, his eyes widening. "Wait—you're attracted to someone? After all these years?"
Rhys nodded. "It's driving me insane. She's nothing like the women I've been surrounded by. She's young, ordinary, and not remotely what I'd consider my type. Yet, I can't stay away from her."
Nene leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "Tell me more."
Rhys ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "She's different, Nene. She doesn't try to impress me, and somehow, that's what gets to me. She's dangerous, but I can't seem to pull away. And last night…"
"What happened last night?"
"I kissed her. Or rather, she kissed me, and I didn't stop it. I couldn't."
Nene sat back, a grin spreading across his face. "Rhys, my friend, you've got it bad."
***************************************************************************
Few Days Later
"Padrino," one of Rhys's men said, interrupting his thoughts. "The Donna has summoned you to the Khaos Mansion."
Rhys nodded, his expression unreadable. He had anticipated this. The Anarchy Alliance incident needed addressing, and Donna wouldn't let it slide. He adjusted his cufflinks, the glint of silver catching the dim light. He knew why she had summoned him. The Anarchy Alliance incident needed to be addressed, and more importantly, he needed to gauge how much Donna knew about Eddy's death.
Eddy had been her golden boy, her "favorite son," and while Donna rarely showed her cards, Rhys wasn't naïve. If she suspected his involvement, it wouldn't matter how much she doted on him—she'd deal with him as ruthlessly as she had countless others.
The drive to the mansion was tense, the silence inside the car thick with unspoken thoughts. Rhys gazed out the tinted window, his mind racing. The Donna was a master of manipulation, her calm demeanor often masking lethal intentions. He had to tread carefully.
When they arrived at the sprawling gates of the Khaos Mansion, the bodyguards at the entrance patted him down as usual. The estate loomed ahead, its gothic architecture imposing against the backdrop of a gray sky.
He arrived at the mansion fifteen minutes later, his men flanking him. The imposing structure loomed ahead, its dark exterior a testament to the power it represented.
Inside, he was directed to Donna's study. The study was dimly lit, the scent of aged books and cigars hanging in the air. The walls were lined with shelves crammed with volumes that looked more decorative than functional. A large mahogany desk dominated the room, and behind it sat Donna.
She was a picture of unyielding authority, seated in her wheelchair with her glasses perched low on her nose. A file lay open before her, its contents meticulously arranged. Rhys instantly recognized the insignia of the Anarchy Alliance stamped on one of the documents. She didn't look up as Rhys entered.
"Donna," he greeted, bowing his head.
She didn't look up, her finger tracing a line of text in the file. Her silence was deliberate, a subtle power move that forced him to stand there and wait. The seconds stretched unbearably.
Finally, she spoke, her tone even. "Sit."
Rhys obeyed, lowering himself into the chair opposite her. His posture was calm, but his senses were on high alert. He wasn't sure how much she knew—or how much she suspected.
"You've been busy," she said, closing the file and setting it aside. Her eyes met his, sharp and piercing.
He obeyed, the silence stretching as she continued to study the file. Finally, she looked up. "Tell me about the Anarchy Alliance."
"They trespassed on my territory," Rhys began. "They attempted to extort us, demanding a ridiculous eighty-twenty split on the nano-tech deal. When I refused, they threatened action."
Donna leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. "And their demands?"
"They wanted seventy percent of the profits," Rhys explained. "When I proposed a sixty-forty split, they pushed for eighty-twenty and added a condition—monthly dividends. They even demanded I kneel before their Don."
Her lips twitched, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners. "Kneel? What made that fool think he could make such demands?"
"He thought he had leverage," Rhys replied, pulling a phone from his pocket. He Respectfully handed it over the desk to her while bowing with one hand holding the phone, and the other supporting his elbow.
Donna picked it up, her eyes scanning the screen. Rhys continued, "I did what I had to do to protect our interests. The Anarchy Alliance was gathering intel to use against us and forming alliances with the Karlters. If we didn't act, they would have struck first." They were collecting data on us—our deals, our movements, our connections."
For the first time, Donna chuckled softly, the sound both amused and cold. "Clowns."
"And you acted without my approval," Donna said, her voice cold.
Rhys nodded, unflinching but underneath the bravado, he was sweating from fear.
She set the phone down, her fingers drumming lightly on the desk. "You know the rules, Rhys. What you did—taking their territory without consulting me—could be seen as a declaration of war. The other families are watching us. If they think we've become reckless, they'll band together, and that would force my hand."
"I understand, Donna," Rhys said, inclining his head. "But I ensured it didn't escalate. The Alliance was already planning to strike. I simply acted preemptively."
Her gaze lingered on him, as though peeling back the layers of his words to find the truth beneath. "And Eddy?"
Rhys's chest tightened, but he didn't flinch. "What about him?"
Donna's lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Nothing. Just a thought."
She handed the phone back to him. "You know what to do with this."
Rhys nodded, rising to his feet. "Of course, Donna."
As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him. "Rhys."
He paused, glancing back.
"Don't make me regret my trust in you," she said, her tone deceptively light.
The unspoken threat hung in the air as Rhys inclined his head once more. "I won't."
Walking out of the mansion, Rhys felt the weight of her words pressing down on him. He slipped into the car, his men waiting silently for his command.
Rhys's thoughts churned like a stormy sea as he left Donna's study. Her casual mention of Eddy's name wasn't an accident—he knew better than to dismiss it as idle conversation. Donna never said anything without purpose, and this felt calculated, a subtle attempt to probe his guilt.
She knew something. The question was: How much did she know?
The air outside the study felt heavier than when he'd entered, as if her presence had tainted it. He strode down the mansion's marble corridors, his polished shoes clicking against the cold floor. His mind raced. He had to tread carefully. Donna's words had been loaded, her tone deceptively calm, but he'd seen the glint in her eyes—the same glint that often preceded someone's downfall.
Rhys clenched his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. If she was testing him, he had to act swiftly. The stakes were too high to hesitate now.
Eddy's shadow loomed large over the family, even in death. He had been untouchable, a favorite son shielded by Donna's favor. Eddy could commit the most audacious transgressions, and Donna wouldn't bat an eye. Rhys had often wondered why.
Back when Eddy was alive, Rhys had theorized that Eddy must have held something over her—some damning secret that forced her to look the other way, time and time again. Eddy had swaggered through life as if invincible, and Donna's indulgence had only reinforced that illusion.
But Eddy's death hadn't lessened Donna's devotion; if anything, it had intensified. She was determined to find his killer and drag them, kicking and screaming, into hell alongside him. Her fixation on avenging Eddy only confirmed what Rhys feared most: she wouldn't let this go, not until she had her pound of flesh.
Now, standing by the mansion's gates, Rhys lit a cigarette with shaking hands, the tip glowing orange in the dim evening light. The smoke curled upward, dissipating into the gray sky as he took a deep drag.
"Damn you, Eddy," he muttered under his breath.
The problem wasn't just Eddy's death—it was what Donna would do once she discovered the truth. He knew her well enough to understand that patience wasn't her strongest virtue. Yet, when it came to Eddy, her tolerance seemed boundless.
It made Rhys wonder: Just how far could Eddy have pushed her before she broke?
He couldn't afford for her to find out, at least not now. The only way to secure his place—and his life—was to turn the family against Eddy's memory. If he could expose every dirty little secret Eddy had ever hidden, Donna wouldn't be able to ignore it. Not even her favoritism could withstand the weight of undeniable proof.
Rhys flicked his cigarette into the dirt and watched as the ember faded. He didn't have time to dwell on Donna's patience or Eddy's immunity. What mattered now was speed.
He needed evidence—everything Eddy had ever done that could tarnish his golden image. Affairs, deals gone bad, betrayals, any skeletons buried in the dark corners of the Khaos family's empire.
And once he had them, he'd rip the blindfold off Donna and force her to see the truth. Only then would he stand a chance of keeping his head on his shoulders.
Rhys straightened his jacket and signaled to his men who had been patiently waiting. The car rolled up, and he slid inside, closing the door with a decisive thud.
"Where to, Padrino?" the driver asked, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.
Rhys's lips curved into a grim smile. "To the archives. It's time we brought Eddy's sins to light."
The engine roared to life, and the car sped off into the night, leaving the looming shadow of the Khaos mansion behind. Its engine a low growl against the quiet of the evening. Rhys stared out the window, his mind already planning his next move. Being ruthless wasn't just a necessity—it was an art.
***************************************************************************
Back at Home
Lia sat on her bed reminicing her visit to the hospital her mind spinning. The doctor had completed the examination and assured her that she was fine, but the unease lingered. She felt something was amiss. But she was told she had fallen asleep during the examination.
The door opened, and Rhys stepped in, his presence overwhelming the room.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his tone softer than she expected.
"I'm fine," she replied, her voice small. "But why all of this?"
Rhys crossed the room, stopping in front of her. "Because I need to know you're safe."
His words surprised her, and for a moment, the tension between them softened. But just as quickly, his expression hardened again.
"Don't read too much into it," he added, turning to leave.
Lia watched him go, her emotions a whirlwind of confusion. What was that all about?