Eliza didn't raise her voice.
She smiled.
That was worse.
She turned slowly toward Victor first, then Dadi, then Rina—her expression almost relieved, as if a long argument had finally proven itself.
"I told you," Eliza said calmly. "I warned all of you."
Victor looked at her sharply.
"Eliza—"
"No," she cut in, still smiling. "You didn't want to listen. None of you did."
Her eyes shifted—locked—onto Rhea.
"This girl," Eliza continued, voice steady, precise, "was never an accident."
Rhea's heart slammed.
"She is a threat to my daughter," Eliza said flatly. "I said it from the beginning."
Rhea stepped forward immediately.
"That's not—please listen—"
Eliza turned fully toward her now.
The smile vanished.
Her finger came up, pointing straight at Rhea.
"Don't," Eliza said quietly.
The room froze.
"If anything happens to my Ling," Eliza went on, every word sharpened by terror disguised as control, "if she breaks, if she collapses, if she loses herself—"
Her finger trembled once, then steadied.
"I swear," Eliza said, eyes burning, "I will not leave you."
Rhea shook her head, panic breaking through her composure.
"I didn't break her. I would never—"
"You already did," Eliza snapped. "Look at her. Sneaking. Lying. Ignoring her family. Defying me."
Victor stepped in then.
"Eliza, this is unfair."
Eliza rounded on him.
"Unfair?" she laughed sharply. "You loved a woman once because you thought danger was love. And now your daughter is walking the same line."
Rhea's voice cracked.
"I love her."
The word slipped out before she could stop it.
Eliza went still.
Then she laughed—soft, bitter.
"That," she said, "is exactly why you're dangerous. Because you still pretend after all this."
Dadi struck her cane against the floor once.
"Enough."
Eliza turned back to Rhea one last time.
"This family doesn't forgive threats," she said coldly. "We eliminate them."
Rina stared, stunned.
"Aunt—"
"We're leaving," Eliza said sharply.
She turned on her heel.
Victor hesitated—looked at Rhea, at Shyra, at the hallway where Kane had disappeared.
Then followed.
Dadi rose slowly, eyes lingering on Rhea—not cruel, not kind. Just knowing.
And then they were gone.
The door closed.
The sound echoed.
Rhea stood there, shaking now, emerald dress suddenly too heavy, too bright, too exposed.
Her breath came uneven.
"She will think I betrayed," Rhea whispered.
Shyra moved to her side instantly, gripping her arm.
"You didn't."
Rhea's eyes burned.
"But what if Ling hears it like that?" she said. "What if she believes it?"
The mansion felt enormous now.
Empty.
And somewhere out there—
Ling Kwong was still on her way.
The front door hadn't even finished closing when another sound entered the house.
Footsteps.
Familiar.
Shyra turned sharply.
Her husband stood at the entrance—jacket still on, travel dust on his shoulders, eyes scanning the tension in the room immediately.
"Sorry I'm late," he said. Then softer, to Shyra, "Is everything okay?"
Shyra didn't answer right away.
She looked at Rhea.
Rhea was standing exactly where the Kwongs had left her—hands clenched, breathing shallow, eyes glassy but unbroken. Still trying to hold herself upright.
"I have to go," Shyra said quietly.
Rhea's head snapped up.
"Now?"
Shyra nodded once.
"He can't stay long. I am sorry."
Rhea understood.
Her throat tightened.
"Oh," Rhea said, forcing steadiness. "Okay."
Shyra stepped into her space and wrapped her arms around her without asking.
Rhea broke then—not loudly, not dramatically.
Her breath hitched once.
Then her forehead dropped against Shyra's shoulder.
"I'm losing control," Rhea whispered.
Shyra held her tighter.
"No," she said fiercely. "You're just finally feeling it."
Rhea's fingers twisted into Shyra's dress.
"What if she believes them?"
"She won't," Shyra said immediately. Then, after a beat, softer, "But you have to tell her. Before anyone else does."
Rhea nodded against her shoulder, tears spilling silently now, soaking into silk she didn't care about.
Shyra pulled back, cupping Rhea's face, thumbs brushing under her eyes.
"You're not our mother," she said firmly. "And you're not their villain."
Rhea tried to smile.
It didn't work.
Shyra kissed her forehead, lingering, then stepped back.
Her husband waited at the door, concern etched deep.
Shyra paused once more.
"Text me the moment Ling arrives," she said. "The moment."
Rhea nodded.
Shyra turned and left.
The door closed again.
This time, it sounded final.
Rhea stood alone in the vast mansion, lights still warm, flowers still breathing sweetness into the air—everything prepared for love.
Her shoulders shook once.
Twice.
Then the tears came fully.
Silent.
Unrestrained.
She slid down onto the edge of the sofa, clutching her phone to her chest, emerald fabric wrinkling under her fingers.
"So wrong," she whispered to the empty room. "Everything is going wrong."
No Shyra.
No Ling.
No buffer.
Just her.
And the truth she was supposed to give—
Before it took her first.
The phone buzzed sharply against the console. Ling's hand hovered over it, then hesitated.
It was her family.
Victor, Eliza, Dadi, and Rina—calling together, probably trying to track her.
Ling frowned, glancing at the clock. They must have reached the party already, she thought, slipping into calm control. Or maybe they're wondering when I'll arrive.
Her thumb hovered over the screen, but she didn't answer immediately. She knew Rhea was expecting her attention, yet the call pulled at something she refused to admit out loud.
The phone kept vibrating, persistent, insistent—family, waiting, unaware of the storm building at the mansion.
Ling finally let it ring out.
She slid it back into her pocket.
"Not yet," she murmured to herself, lips curling with a mixture of anticipation and calculation.
Outside, somewhere else in the mansion, Rhea adjusted her dress, oblivious to the calls, heart still tight with tension, waiting for the arrival she didn't even realize was imminent.
————
Ling's car rolled to a stop in front of the mansion, sleek and silent under the night lights. Her pulse was calm, measured, yet every nerve tingled with anticipation. She adjusted the emerald lapels of her tailored blazer, hands brushing the sharp edges just so, noticing the subtle shimmer of the cufflinks Dadi had teased her about earlier.
The door opened, and she stepped out, sunglasses still perched on her nose, hair swept behind her ears, heels clicking deliberately against the marble driveway. She inhaled, the scent of the night mingling with the faint perfume lingering from Rhea's room earlier.
Inside, Rhea waited. Emerald silk hugged her curves perfectly, backless and bold, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She stood straight, hands clasped in front, eyes flicking toward the door every second. Her chest rose and fell rapidly—not panic, but tension sharp enough to taste. Each breath felt like a countdown.
Every heartbeat screamed one question: Did her family tell Ling everything?
Ling saw her and froze—just for a fraction of a second. Emerald against emerald, flawless lines of fabric and body in perfect alignment, her breath hitched. Eyes wide, pupils dilated slightly, she strode forward and closed the distance in three purposeful steps. No hesitation. No teasing smile yet—just raw, private intensity.
She wrapped her arms around Rhea in a sudden, tight hug, pressing her against herself. The embrace was claiming, not gentle, not soft—her body pressed insistently, letting Rhea feel the strength and obsession radiating from her. Ling's cheek brushed Rhea's temple, and her lips whispered close enough to flirt:
"Damn… my baby girl looks… perfect."
Rhea froze, eyes glistening. She could feel Ling's heartbeat against her own. Every inch of her body reacted, yet she couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't even breathe normally. The emerald silk was warm beneath Ling's hands. Her mind screamed both warning and surrender.
Rhea's thoughts raced. She doesn't know.
She doesn't know the truth. She doesn't know about Kane, about revenge, about every plan that had twisted her family and her life until this night.
Ling tightened the hug ever so slightly, letting her strength brush against Rhea's back, her hands lingering intentionally along the curve of her waist. Then she leaned back just enough to look at her, eyes gleaming behind those sunglasses.
"You," Ling said softly, voice low, almost dangerous, "you have no idea what you do to me."
Rhea's lips parted, but only a whisper escaped, nothing audible. Her chest heaved, tears threatening to spill, and she realized fully that her secret, her plan, her revenge, were all safe for now. Ling was blissfully unaware.
Ling chuckled quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind Rhea's ear, lingering there as if she had all the time in the world. Then, still close enough that Rhea could feel every intention in her touch, she added:
"Stay like this. Don't move. Don't even think of leaving me."
Rhea's knees felt weak. She wanted to resist, to push back, to reclaim control—but she didn't. Couldn't.
The room felt smaller, tighter, electric with tension. The mansion outside disappeared. The future outside disappeared. For a moment, it was just them, tangled in emotion, secrecy, and obsession, with every glance, every brush of skin, every whispered word layering the silence with dangerous intent.
Rhea's fingers fidgeted with the hem of her emerald dress, eyes locked on Ling's as if she could carve her words directly into her chest. "I… I want to tell you something," she said, voice tight with urgency.
Ling raised an eyebrow, lips curling slightly.
"Later," she murmured, teasing, letting the words linger between them like a spark waiting to ignite. "Why so eager, baby girl?"
Rhea stepped closer, insistence flashing in her eyes. "No, I mean it—before anything else. I need you to hear it now."
Ling's chest tightened slightly, sensing the weight behind Rhea's tone. She reached out, brushing a hand along Rhea's arm, letting her feel the warmth, the quiet ownership in her touch.
"Fine," she said, softer this time. "Tell me. Quick, then—"
Before Rhea could gather her courage, a soft but commanding voice interrupted.
"Hello, Ling."