"Clearly, we don't. She's far skinnier than me." Fallyn's words were deliberate, each syllable a measured strike, highlighting the difference Eva had tried so carefully to mask. "Maybe you should try to add some flesh. After all, you're not going back to acting, are you?"
The words landed like ice. Eva's fingers tightened, her posture stiffened, and for the first time, the carefully curated aura of control she always carried faltered.
"No. I'm not leaving acting," Fiona replied, her voice quiet, soft even but every inflection was iron, unwavering, a silent declaration of autonomy.
Eva's nails dug into her own hands, her voice snapping. "What do you mean?"
Fiona didn't flinch. She stepped closer, just enough to let her presence dominate the room without raising her voice. "Mom, we'll discuss it tomorrow morning. And you" Her eyes sharpened, unblinking, icy, "you don't need to worry about Mr. Thames."
"Very well," Eva replied evenly. "I'll wait to hear what you have to say tomorrow."
Fiona returned to her room, shut the door behind her, and let the night swallow her whole. She slipped into the warmth of the shower, allowing the water to wash away the tension clinging to her skin. When she finally crawled into bed, sleep claimed her instantly deep, untroubled, almost childlike. She slept on, unaware that dawn had already broken.
A soft tapping at her back pulled her from the depths of sleep.
"Hm…" Fiona stirred, stretching lazily across the bed as her eyes fluttered open. She rubbed at them with the heel of her hand and turned slightly. "Fallyn, what is it?"
"Mom and Dad are already seated. They're waiting for you," Fallyn said quietly, hesitating before adding, "Fin are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Fiona yawned, the blanket clutched around her like a shield as she pushed herself upright. "Please tell them I'm coming now," she murmured, her tone calm, unshaken.
Fallyn studied her for a brief moment longer, then turned and left the room.
Seconds later, Fiona followed. Her steps were unhurried, composed, as she made her way into the living room. There, all three of them were already seated, the air thick with expectation. Without a word, Fiona moved to an empty chair and took her seat, her expression unreadable calm on the surface, resolute beneath it, as if she had already decided how this morning would unfold.
Brett cleared his throat, his gaze sharpening as it settled on her. "Your mother said you wanted an audience," he began coolly. "What is it you wish to discuss?"
Fiona's expression remained composed, her voice steady and unruffled. "It's nothing serious. I was simply considering taking on a few gigs."
The air shifted.
"What?" Brett snapped, rising slightly from his seat. He flicked his hand in sharp dismissal, as though her words were nothing more than idle nonsense. "Don't be absurd. Your engagement will be announced soon."
"An engagement date hasn't even been set," Fiona snapped, her patience finally cracking. "What if it's six months from now? Am I supposed to sit still and wait until then?"
"Exactly," Eva cut in coldly. "You will wait for Mr. Manson."
Fiona's gaze flicked between them, her lips curving into something dangerously calm. "So this is all about him?"
"Of course," Eva snarled. "He has the final say in your engagement."
Fiona didn't hesitate. "Then that isn't a problem, Mom."
Silence slammed into the room.
"Wait, what do you mean, not a problem?" they echoed in unison, exchanging looks of open disbelief.
Fiona lifted her chin, confidence settling over her like armor. "I'll speak to Mr. Manson myself. Besides," she added lightly, "we already met at Hazel's birthday."
"You spoke to him?" Fallyn blurted out, the question escaping before she could stop it.
"Mm." Fiona answered casually, lifting one leg onto the couch, her posture relaxed almost indulgent.
Brett's brow furrowed. "That's surprising," he muttered. "Is he already fond of you?"
Fallyn's fingers tightened in her lap. "What did you talk about?" she pressed, unease seeping into her voice, fear flickering beneath the surface.
Fiona let a small, deliberate smile curve her lips. "Nothing important." She shrugged lightly. "He just complimented my outfits, said I looked different from the last time we met."
Fiona turned her gaze to her mother, voice smooth but unyielding. "Mom, there's no need to worry. If he doesn't consent, I'll simply let it go."
Eva's eyes lingered on her daughter, sharp and assessing, before a faint, controlled smile curved her lips. "If that's truly your decision" she said, her tone soft but edged with authority. "He's a business tycoon, entrenched in the entertainment world. I trust he'll manage it effectively."
The words sounded calm, almost approving.
Yet beneath the surface, they carried the weight of expectation, a quiet pressure Fiona felt pressing against her resolve. And she welcomed it, meeting it without flinching.
"Mom, I saw the jewelry box it had the ⓉⓂⓈ★Bijoux design. And that same design I saw on his secretary's briefcase the other day," Fallyn said, her voice sharp at the edges, curiosity laced with barely restrained irritation.
Brettz's tone remained casual, almost too calm, yet carried the weight of authority. "Yes, baby. He's the heir to both StarTalents Media and ⓉⓂⓈ★Bijoux."
The words struck like a cold blade, slicing through her pride, a ruthless reminder of everything she had lost and everything she might never reclaim.
Fallyn's hands clenched into fists, her teeth biting back words that could scorch. Her eyes blazed, storm clouds gathering behind a mask of composure. 'Damn my parents would really hand Fiona over to a man who should have been mine. If they won't fix this I'll take matters into my own hands. They'll see. They'll all see.'
Fiona, weary of their endless chatter and veiled scheming, rose silently, her movements deliberate, her expression unreadable. She excused herself without a word, leaving the room thick with unsaid tension.
Fallyn's eyes followed her every step, a storm of fury and jealousy barely contained behind their controlled mask. She thinks she's untouchable. She hasn't even begun to see what I'm capable of yet.
After a quick bath and a hurried meal, Fiona's phone buzzed. Hazel had shared her location on Snapchat. Without hesitation, she slung her bag over her shoulder and moved toward the living room. The space was empty, quiet yet somehow, the silence itself seemed to anticipate the storm she carried with her.
"Mom, I'm going to Hazel's place," Fiona called out, her voice calm yet edged with quiet authority. She moved toward the door with deliberate steps, bending gracefully to slip on her boots, every motion precise and controlled.
Eva's reply was measured, tinged with subtle caution. "Okay, be careful."
Fiona straightened slowly, the shift in her posture radiating self-assurance, a subtle challenge in her calm eyes. "Sure, Mom," she said, voice steady, betraying nothing of the plans or intentions simmering just beneath her composed exterior.
Fiona stepped out of the house, her bag slung over her shoulder. She raised a hand, hailing a car with effortless confidence, and slid into the backseat as it pulled up. The driver nodded respectfully, and she gave the address to Hazel's estate without a word.
Upon arrival, the security guard waved her through after a brief check. Fiona stepped out gracefully, the heels of her boots clicking against the driveway. The driver handled the car and the fare, leaving her at the gate. Without hesitation, she pressed the doorbell, the estate gates swinging open to admit her with quiet efficiency.
Once inside the mansion, Fiona moved through the grand foyer with deliberate steps, every motion calm and controlled, when a sharp, playful voice sliced through the quiet.
"Sweetie! Come up here!" Hazel called from the window of her mother's room, her tone equal parts laughter and command.
Fiona's gaze lifted, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Hey, girl," she replied, quickening her pace as if the entire house belonged to her. She glided up the polished staircase, boots clicking softly against the marble, each step precise, measured, almost regal.
At the door, she paused and knocked lightly.
"You're welcome, Your Majesty," Hazel said with mock solemnity as the door swung open. She ushered Fiona inside with exaggerated care, bending at the waist in a playful bow, her eyes sparkling with amusement, as if the room itself recognized Fiona's quiet authority.
"Get the hell off my face," Fiona declared, striding in with exaggerated exasperation before plopping onto the couch at the foot of the bed, her posture casual yet commanding.
Hazel grinned, eyes sparkling.
"Birthday girl, now you get to rest," Fiona teased, her voice dripping with playful mischief.
"Yeah, that reminds me, thanks for the gift!" Hazel's tone was bright, and cheerful.
A scream suddenly tore through the air as the door swung open without warning. Both froze, their cheerfulness shattered, replaced by a thick, palpable tension that clung to the room.