Rhea didn't hesitate.
She turned on her heel and walked straight toward the administrative desk, posture casual, expression bored—as if she wasn't carrying jealousy like a loaded weapon in her chest.
Ling's PA looked up. "Yes?"
Rhea tilted her head slightly, lowering her voice just enough to sound helpful. "The principal was asking for Dr. Marley."
The PA blinked. "Dr. Marley?"
"Yeah," Rhea said, already tapping her phone like she was checking a message. "She's in Professor Kwong's office. He said it sounded urgent. Told me to pass it along."
The PA nodded immediately. "Alright. Thank you."
Rhea didn't wait.
She stepped back toward the corridor, stopping a few feet away—close enough to hear, far enough to look innocent. She leaned against the wall, pretending to scroll again.
Her lips curved.
The PA walked up to Ling's office door and knocked.
Once.
Firm.
Official.
Inside the office—
Marley had just begun speaking. "It's about the —"
Knock.
Ling's eyes flicked to the door instantly.
Marley paused. "Did you—"
Ling didn't answer. Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Dr. Kwong?" the PA's voice came through the door. "Sorry to interrupt. The principal is asking for Dr. Marley. He said it's urgent."
Silence.
Marley's expression shifted—surprise first, then faint irritation. "The principal?"
Ling turned to her calmly. "Seems you're needed."
Marley hesitated. "I didn't get any notice."
Ling's mouth curved again—polite, distant, controlled. "Neither did I."
Outside—
Rhea watched the door like it was a stage curtain.
Her heart thudded once. Hard.
Inside, Marley exhaled sharply. "Alright. I'll go."
She unlocked the door.
Click.
The door opened.
Marley stepped out first—and stopped short when she saw Rhea standing there, far too close, phone in hand, eyes bright with something unreadable.
"Oh," Marley said, surprised. "You're still here."
Rhea smiled sweetly. "Yeah. Bad reception."
Marley frowned faintly, then turned to leave, heels clicking down the corridor toward administration.
The PA nodded and followed.
The hallway cleared.
Ling remained in the doorway.
Her gaze landed on Rhea.
Slow.
Direct.
Dangerous.
"Miss Nior," Ling said quietly.
Rhea looked up, feigning innocence. "Yes, Professor?"
Ling stared at her for a long moment—long enough for the air to thicken, long enough for the game between them to burn hot and unspoken.
"You seem to be everywhere today," Ling said coolly.
Rhea shrugged. "Coincidence."
Ling didn't smile.
But her eyes darkened.
"Go to your next class," Ling said. "Before coincidence turns into consequence."
Rhea's lips curved—soft, victorious.
"As you say," she replied, stepping back slowly. "Professor Kwong."
She walked away unhurried, hips swaying just enough to be deliberate.
Ling watched her go.
Only when Rhea disappeared around the corner did Ling close the office door.
Inside, alone at last, Ling exhaled sharply and pressed her fingers briefly to her temple.
Marley walked into the principal's office with clipped steps and a tight jaw.
She didn't knock twice. Once was enough.
"Sir," she said sharply, closing the door behind her. "You asked to see me?"
The principal looked up from his papers, confused. "I did?"
Marley's brows pulled together. "Yes. I was told it was urgent."
He leaned back slightly. "No, Dr. Marley. I haven't called for you today."
Silence stretched.
Marley stood still for a second, processing.
"…Are you sure?" she asked, slower now.
"I'm certain," he replied calmly. "I've been in meetings all morning. Who told you this?"
Marley didn't answer immediately.
Her jaw tightened. Her fingers curled slightly at her side.
"I see," she said finally, tone controlled but sharp around the edges. "Then excuse me."
She turned and left without another word.
The moment she stepped into the corridor, her composure cracked—not outwardly, but inside. Her heels struck the floor harder now, irritation radiating off her in quiet waves.
She knew.
Her mind replayed the scene instantly—Rhea standing outside Ling's office, phone in hand, eyes too alert, timing too precise. The fake casualness. The convenience.
"Childish," Marley muttered under her breath, turning back toward Ling's office.
Her pace quickened.
She reached the door and knocked—once.
No answer.
She tried the handle.
Locked.
Marley frowned, then knocked again, harder. "Dr. Kwong?"
Nothing.
A passing assistant glanced at her. "Professor Kwong left a few minutes ago, ma'am. She said she had rounds."
Marley exhaled sharply through her nose.
Of course she had.
She stepped back from the door, jaw clenched, irritation now fully directed—no longer at Ling, not at the principal—
At Rhea.
Marley turned down the corridor and spotted her immediately.
Rhea was near the notice board, laughing softly with a few students, posture loose, relaxed—too relaxed.
Marley walked straight toward her.
"Rhea Nior," she called.
Rhea turned, eyebrows lifting in mock surprise. "Oh. Dr. Marley."
Marley stopped in front of her, close enough that the air between them felt tight.
"You told the PA the principal was calling me," Marley said flatly.
Rhea blinked once. "Did I?"
"Yes," Marley replied. "He wasn't."
Rhea tilted her head, lips curving faintly. "Then maybe there was a misunderstanding."
Marley stared at her, eyes sharp. "You're not very good at pretending."
Rhea's smile widened just a fraction. "I wasn't pretending."
A beat.
Marley leaned in slightly. "You did it on purpose."
Rhea didn't deny it.
Instead, she crossed her arms and looked Marley up and down lazily. "Is that a problem?"
Marley's voice lowered. "You don't get to interfere in faculty matters."
Rhea laughed quietly. "Then maybe faculty shouldn't lock doors with students' professors."
That hit.
Marley's expression tightened. "You're crossing lines."
Rhea stepped closer now, chin lifted, eyes burning. "Funny. I was thinking the same thing."
Students nearby had gone quiet. The tension was visible now.
Marley straightened. "Be careful, Rhea. Provoking people in power isn't smart."
Rhea's gaze sharpened. "I don't provoke people I don't matter to."
Marley held her stare for a long moment.
Then she exhaled, stiff and controlled. "Grow up."
She turned and walked away.
Rhea watched her go, jaw tight, pulse loud in her ears.
Only when Marley disappeared did Rhea's expression falter—just a little.
She looked down at her hands, then scoffed quietly to herself.
"Control freak," she muttered under her breath.
But even as she said it—
Her heart was racing.
Because somewhere else in the university, Ling Kwong already knew.
And that knowledge—that silent, dangerous awareness—was exactly what Rhea had wanted.
The Kwong mansion was quiet in the way only old houses ever were—heavy, listening, holding secrets in the walls.
Evening light filtered through tall windows, catching dust in the air like suspended time.
Eliza stood near the console table, arms folded tight across her chest. She hadn't sat down. She hadn't taken tea. Her posture was rigid, jaw clenched, eyes sharp with something dangerously resolved.
Dadi sat across from her on the sofa, rosary beads loose in her fingers, thumb moving slowly over each worn groove. She had been watching Eliza for a while now—watching the storm gather.
"We can't wait anymore," Eliza said finally, breaking the silence.
Her voice was controlled, but urgency cracked beneath it.
Dadi looked up slowly. "Wait for what?"
Eliza turned to face her fully. "Ling."
Dadi's fingers paused on the beads.
Eliza exhaled sharply, impatience flashing. "She's running out of time. Three months, Mother. Three. And you saw her last night."
Dadi's eyes darkened. "I saw my granddaughter suffer."
Eliza stepped closer. "Exactly. That's why this ends now."
Dadi straightened slightly. "Careful."
Eliza didn't stop. "Ling has to marry Mira."
The words landed hard.
Dadi stared at her. "She won't agree."
Eliza laughed once, bitter and humorless. "She doesn't have to agree."
That made Dadi's hand still completely.
"You don't mean that," Dadi said quietly.
Eliza's eyes burned. "I mean exactly that."
Dadi pushed herself up slowly, beads tightening in her grip. "You don't force a Kwong into marriage."
Eliza scoffed. "You forced her into silence. You forced her into control. You forced her into becoming this version of herself. Don't pretend we haven't been shaping her life since she was born."
Dadi's voice dropped. "We protected her."
Eliza's tone sharpened. "We contained her."
Silence stretched between them, thick and dangerous.
Dadi spoke carefully. "Ling is not a pawn."
Eliza stepped closer, lowering her voice. "She is my daughter."
"And my blood," Dadi shot back. "And she loves someone else."
Eliza's lips pressed thin. "That girl will destroy her."
Dadi's eyes flared. "That girl is the only one who keeps her human."
Eliza turned away, pacing now. "Human doesn't matter if she dies."
That stopped everything.
Dadi inhaled sharply. "Don't you dare say that."
Eliza turned back, eyes glossy but furious. "You saw the signs. The nightmares. The instability. The timing. The moon. The blood."
Dadi clenched her jaw. "She survived."
"For now," Eliza snapped. "And she won't survive the next cycle if she stays like this—unanchored, obsessed, defiant."
Dadi's voice shook. "Marriage with Mira won't fix that."
"Mira will," Eliza said firmly. "She's safe. She's controlled. She won't provoke Ling's impulses. She knows the rules. She knows the family."
"She doesn't know Ling better," Dadi said.
Eliza's eyes hardened. "She will learn."
Dadi shook her head slowly. "Ling will hate you."
Eliza's voice dropped, dangerous and calm. "Ling already hates parts of me. That's fine."
Dadi stepped closer now, eyes wet. "You'd manipulate your own child?"
Eliza met her gaze without flinching. "I will save her."
"At any cost?" Dadi whispered.
Eliza didn't hesitate. "At any cost."
Dadi's breath trembled. "Even if she breaks?"
Eliza swallowed once. "Better broken and alive than whole and dead."
The room felt colder.
Dadi turned away, pain etched deep into her face. "You sound like you've already decided."
Eliza's shoulders squared. "I have."
"And if Ling refuses?" Dadi asked quietly.
Eliza's voice turned chillingly soft.
"Then I'll make her choose it herself."
Dadi looked back sharply. "How?"
Eliza's eyes flicked toward the staircase—toward Ling's room.
"I'll give her reasons," she said. "Fear. Pressure. Guilt. Distance."
Dadi's voice cracked. "You'll destroy her trust."
Eliza's jaw tightened. "Trust doesn't keep her alive."
Dadi whispered, devastated, "She'll never forgive you."
Eliza closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again—resolved.
"She doesn't have to," she said. "She just has to survive."
The beads slipped from Dadi's fingers, clattering softly onto the floor.
The lecture hall buzzed low with scattered conversations when Rhea entered.
She walked straight to the middle row—and deliberately slid into the seat beside Haris.
Haris froze for half a second, surprised. Then his face lit up, hope obvious and unguarded.
"Uh—hey," he said softly.
Rhea crossed one leg over the other, calm, casual. "Sit. You're fine."
A few heads turned. Whispers stirred.
Haris nodded quickly and sat properly, shoulders stiff, clearly trying not to look too eager. He pulled his notebook closer, stealing glances at Rhea like she was something unreal.
Then—
The doors opened.
The room went silent almost instantly.
Ling Kwong walked in.
Crisp shirt. Glasses on. Presence heavy enough to bend the air.
Her eyes swept the room out of habit.
Then they stopped.
On Rhea.
On Haris.
On the space between them.
Ling's jaw tightened.