The car moved smoothly onto the road.
"It hasn't been used since," Ava murmured. "So I don't know why Grandpa suddenly wants everyone there."
"Tsk." Prim leaned back, arms crossed. "Endless drama. And I don't know why, but I've got a bad feeling."
"That's just your laziness talking," Ava scoffed.
Prim turned his head slightly, eyes half-lidded. "No. That's instinct."
She glanced at him. "Your instincts, huh? Then why didn't you make an excuse not to go?"
"Because," he shrugged, "my lazy ass also finds trouble… entertaining."
Ava shot him a look.
---
The Carter villa gates loomed ahead—tall, iron-wrought, and untouched by warmth. Ivy crawled along the stone walls, the mansion beyond standing silent, heavy with memories no one ever spoke about.
The car stopped.
Several relatives were already waiting.
The moment Ava and Prim stepped out, every conversation stalled.
Not because they were loud—but because the twins had always had that effect.
Ava walked forward naturally, the late afternoon light brushing over her off-shoulder white corset top, soft floral embroidery catching the breeze. The black pleated mini skirt moved with her steps, simple yet deliberate. Her honey-blonde hair flowed freely down her back, straight and glossy, framing skin so pale it almost reflected light.
She didn't dress to impress—she dressed because she always had.
Prim followed beside her, hands tucked into the pockets of his grey joggers, a loose white cardigan hanging open over black. His gaze skimmed the mansion briefly before drifting away again, bored already.
"Grandpa!"
Ava broke into a smile and hurried forward, wrapping her arms around Mr. Brown Carter.
"I missed you."
He chuckled softly, patting her back. "You miss me, yet you never come to visit."
Before Ava could answer—
"Must be because she's getting a new stepmother."
Grace's voice was soft. Too soft.
Silence dropped instantly.
Henry lifted his teacup, pretending sudden interest.
Jacob let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Sister-in-law," Amelia said smoothly, her tone light but sharp beneath, "don't say things like that. How could a mere secretary marry into the Carter family? Brother-in-law is just… having fun."
"Hm," Isabella replied gently, setting her cup down. "Yes, sister-in-law. Brother-in-law is playing around. Amelia would know—she's quite familiar with that."
The air tightened.
Henry lowered his phone. "Your mouth still runs wild, as usual. Fits my brother perfectly—letting his wife speak for him."
"At least I don't disgrace the family by parading my mistress around," Jacob snapped back.
"Brother-in-law," Amelia said coldly, "have you ever seen my husband carrying women around?"
She straightened, chin lifting.
"You're the elder brother. Act like one. Control your wife's character first."
Ava stood quietly beside her grandfather, fingers tightening slightly around his sleeve.
Prim, already seated, watched the exchange with half-lidded eyes.
Alright. I've read it carefully, kept your plot, power dynamics, and venom, and rewritten Part Two so the dialogue is sharp, consistent, and the descriptions flow inside the scene, not dumped. Emily's entrance is woven into tension, not paused for a checklist. No characters are changed, no intent softened.
---
Chapter Fifteen – Part Two: The Woman They Shouldn't Have Provoked
"Enough."
Mr. Brown Carter didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"If you plan to continue behaving like children," he said calmly, eyes sweeping the room, "then you might as well break the door while you're at it."
Silence fell instantly.
Before anyone could recover, the front door opened again.
Heels clicked softly against the marble floor.
Emily stepped in.
She wore a cream-white, high-waisted wide-leg jumpsuit, the clean square neckline softened by a sheer chiffon blouse beneath. A slim belt cinched her waist effortlessly. Light caught on the diamond drop earrings brushing her neck, and a single pearl bracelet rested against her wrist as she moved.
Nothing about her was loud—yet every eye turned.
Her heart-shaped face held a faint, knowing smile. Amber-brown almond eyes, long-lashed and deceptively gentle, swept the room with calm precision. Soft pink lips curved slightly, a beauty mark near the corner making the expression almost playful. Chestnut curls spilled down her back in loose waves, framing pale skin warmed by a golden undertone.
She looked like innocence—until she spoke.
"So early," Emily said lightly, setting her bag down. "And sister-in-law and brother-in-law are already causing a scene?"
Grace straightened immediately. "We were just talking about the new sister-in-law," she said, voice sharpened. "About brother-in-law cheating."
Emily turned to her slowly.
"Oh?" Her brows lifted. "Do you have proof? Evidence? Witnesses?" She tilted her head. "Or are we going to court right now to act one out?"
Grace froze.
"If not," Emily continued coolly, "then shut up. I know your brain capacity is limited—don't follow people who lower it further."
Her gaze slid across the room, unhurried, surgical.
"I haven't said a word as the wife," she added. "Yet all of you seem very invested."
She looked at Jacob. "Your personal funds are tight again, aren't they?"
Jacob stiffened.
"Isabella," Emily continued, unfazed, "still figuring out how to clean up your son's mess after he stole from his own father?"
Isabella's fingers tightened around her cup.
"Henry," Emily said next, eyes cool. "What exactly do you do besides change women?"
Henry's face darkened.
"And Amelia," she finished calmly, "no matter how much you insult me, your husband is trash. Your life is trash. That's a fact. Accept it."
Amelia stood abruptly.
Emily wasn't done.
"And Grace," she said softly, smiling now, "married to the owner of a car company, yet still begging her parents to sponsor her husband. Peter—using your wife as leverage to climb."
Her gaze returned to the room as a whole.
"All of you have problems," Emily said evenly. "Yet I never came for you. But the moment you see an opening, you jump."
She crossed her legs, utterly composed.
"Do you forget who I am?"
The silence was suffocating.
"If you think being my in-law gives you protection," she continued pleasantly, "then try me in court. I'll drag you there for defaming my husband's name."
She smiled wider.
"And honestly?" She blinked. "I'm short on money. Who knows—I might sue you for emotional damages."
She leaned back.
"Don't start what you can't finish."
The room stayed frozen.
Then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"Bravo. Bravo."
Prim's applause echoed loudly.
"Mom," he grinned. "You rock."
"Dad, did you hear that?" Henry snapped, standing. "Look at sister-in-law—"
"Why should I?" Mr. Brown Carter interrupted coldly. "Did she lie? Did she throw diamonds at her face?"
He rose, Ava quickly supporting his arm.
"She didn't even ask me for help against six of you," he continued sharply. "Yet you—a group of grown men—need backup against one woman."
He scoffed. "Shameful."
"Come," he said to Ava. "Let's go see your grandmother. Leave these children to themselves."
They left.
Amelia stormed off toward her room, Henry following behind. One by one, the others dispersed until only Emily and Prim remained in the living room.
They exchanged a look.
Then, wordlessly, both slipped into the kitchen.
Dessert didn't stand a chance.
Half an hour later, everyone gathered in the dining room.
The chef lifted the dessert tray—and froze.
"…It's been eaten."
Emily calmly sipped her tea.
Prim sat straight, expression innocent.
Right on cue, footsteps sounded.
Nathan entered.
He wore a tailored black designer suit, sharp lines hugging his broad frame, the inner shirt left casually open at the collar. A subtle platinum pin gleamed on his lapel—restrained, expensive, unmistakably him.
"Why didn't you just die out there instead of coming home?" Mr. Brown Carter snapped.
Nathan smiled. "If I died,who will lit fireworks in your funeral?"
"You—"
His wife squeezed his hand. "You started it," Mrs. Brown Carter said calmly. "So take the insult."
"You spoiled him," Mr. Brown Carter snapped. "That's why he's cheating around! I fired a woman—how dare you rehire her?"
"Fire who?" Nathan asked lazily. "Did you fire someone?"
Mr. Brown Carter pointed at him, furious.
"Brother-in-law," Peter interjected, "don't anger father-in-law. But what you did wasn't right—rehiring the woman he fired and giving her such a big project."
Nathan chuckled softly.
"Who I hire or fire," he said evenly, "has nothing to do with anyone here."
He looked straight at Peter.
"And I never asked why you fired my employee. You don't get a say in my company."
The table went quiet.
"Brother-in-law," Nathan continued calmly, "focus on your own company. Stop being greedy. At the end of the day, no project will go to you."
"You'd rather give it to another woman?" Brown Carter shouted.
Nathan met his gaze, unbothered.
"Should I give it to you?" he asked. "I have shares in the Carter Empire—but business doesn't work on blood."
He leaned back.
"If it doesn't benefit me, I do nothing. My empire is mine. You have no say in it. Ever."
Grace turned sharply. "Did you even ask Emily for her opinion?"
All eyes turned.
Emily paused mid-bite.
"…What?" she said calmly. "I'm hungry."
She resumed eating.
Grace clenched her fists. "What about your children—"
"I really don't care," Prim said flatly.
The table quieted at once.
"Whether Father remarries or not—that's between him and his wife. Your opinions are irrelevant." His gaze lifted, sharp and bored. "And if you're talking about property, then listen carefully."
He paused, just long enough.
"Whatever belongs to me and my sister will go to me and my sister. No matter who disagrees."
Ava didn't blink.
"That includes Grandfather's assets as well," she added calmly, her pale blue eyes settling on Grace. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "And as long as no one crosses me, I don't care."
She smiled faintly.
"It's very simple."
Grace felt a chill crawl up her spine. "Aren't you being greedy?" she snapped.
"How is stating my legal rights greed?" Ava asked lightly. "It's a fact."
She tilted her head, expression almost curious.
"And yes, I'm territorial. What belongs to me will stay mine." Her smile widened, polite and sharp. "As for greed—I still have a lot to learn. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll teach me."
Elena slammed her chopsticks down. "You're all talk. Everything belongs to Grandpa anyway!"
Ava turned to her slowly.
"Really?" she asked. "Are you sure you're a Carter?"
Her voice was soft—but cutting.
"Did you forget? Grandpa only gives to those he finds worthy."
Prim chuckled under his breath. "You're all sitting here waiting for a will," he added, not bothering to finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
Jacob frowned. "What does he mean by that?"
Mr. Brown Carter answered for him.
"It means," he said evenly, "that while you were busy living your lives, Ava already had three companies under her name."
The room erupted in shock.
"She built them up. Brought them to profitability." His gaze sharpened. "Prim did the same."
Silence.
"I have already transferred properties and assets to them," he continued. "They proved their worth."
Grace shot to her feet. "That's not fair!"
"Life has never been fair," Mr. Brown Carter replied coldly.
"When Ava was five," he continued, "I took her to the company. Gave her piles of files to review. While you insisted your children needed etiquette lessons and tea parties."
His gaze swept the table.
"When I wanted them sent abroad at ten to train their skills, you refused. Only Ava and Prim went."
He leaned back.
"They learned. They worked. They produced results."
His voice dropped, final.
"I gave them companies to test their abilities. They succeeded."
He slammed his chopsticks down.
"So don't blame me. You made your choices."
His eyes hardened.
"I made mine."
A long silence followed.
"Now," Mr. Brown Carter said calmly, "everyone shut up—and eat."
After dinner, the adults remained in the mansion, voices sharp and layered with old grudges. Laughter rang, but it was hollow. The children scattered instead, drawn away from the suffocating air.
Prim leaned against the stone railing at the edge of the garden, flicking a pebble into the overgrown bushes. His eyes drifted toward the back of the estate.
"There's an entire floor that's sealed off," he said lazily. "Every door locked. No one goes there."
Ava didn't look up from her phone. "Have you heard of keeping secrets buried?" she replied. "I'm not following you on a ghost hunt."
Prim tilted his chin toward the path behind them.
"Then stay," he said. "With them."
Ava glanced up.
Their cousins were walking toward them—slow steps, sharp eyes, already forming complaints.
She sighed. "I'd rather stay with a ghost."
Prim grinned.
They slipped away, cutting through the side garden where lanterns no longer worked and ivy strangled the stone walls. The deeper they went, the colder the air became.
The building at the far end stood apart from the rest of the estate.
Its walls were blackened, the windows boarded with uneven planks, scorch marks still visible beneath peeling paint. A heavy iron lock hung on the door, rust eating through its edges.
"This place burned," Ava murmured. "They never rebuilt it."
Prim snapped the lock with practiced ease.
The door creaked open.
Inside, dust swirled like fog. The scent of ash lingered—old, bitter, refusing to fade.
The room was narrow but deep, the ceiling low and cracked. Furniture sat frozen in time: a narrow bed with a rotted frame, a wooden desk warped by heat, a chair collapsed onto its side. Charred marks climbed the walls like black veins.
Photographs still hung crookedly—an elderly woman smiling stiffly beside a younger maid, their faces faded and cracked beneath warped glass.
"This was Grandma's right-hand maid's quarters," Prim said quietly.
Ava ran her fingers along the desk. The surface flaked beneath her touch.
Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with yellowed notebooks, melted candle stubs, and old trinkets that looked too carefully arranged to be trash. Everything felt… deliberate.
Then—
Thud.
A small wooden box slid off the top shelf and hit the floor.
The sound echoed far too loudly.
Prim and Ava stared at it.
"Rock, paper, scissors," Prim said.
Ava sighed. "You're unbelievable."
She played rock. He played paper.
"Best of three," he said quickly.
Again. Rock beat scissors.
"Last round," Ava warned.
Another tie.
Prim crouched. "We open it together."
The lid creaked as they lifted it.
Inside were neatly stacked papers, tied with faded thread—and beneath them, a clock pendant.
The metal was cold, heavier than it looked. Fine cracks spidered across its surface, the glass cloudy, the hands frozen.
"I was hoping for gold," Prim muttered.
"Right," Ava said dryly. "Treasure."
She unfolded the first paper.
> I have done my part.
He has done his.
Fate is not meant to be rewritten.
Do not change it.
The handwriting was sharp, deliberate.
Ava swallowed and read the next.
> The outcome you desire is not the one you will receive.
Prim shifted uneasily. "I don't like this."
Ava kept going.
> I am the last.
The past. The present. The future.
I was sent to fix the crack.
Her grip tightened.
> I am family.
I will not stop until I succeed.
The clock will be your limit.
Silence pressed in around them.
Ava exhaled slowly. "It's not about the future," she murmured. "Cracks don't start there. They begin at the very first fracture. Fix it late, and you only widen it."
Prim stared at her. "I understand one thing," he said. "This is exactly how horror movies start."
"I know," Ava replied calmly. "That's why we don't turn anything on."
She turned—
Her foot caught the edge of the broken floorboard.
The pendant slipped from her hand.
Clang.
It rolled across the floor.
A shadow stretched across the room.
Ava froze.
Prim turned—
"Fuck."
Elena stood in the doorway, half-lit by moonlight, her face unreadable.
"You look terrified," Elena said mockingly. "Do I look like a ghost?"
"You appeared behind us," Ava replied flatly. "That's usually step one."
Prim nodded. "And you're pale. That helps."
Elena's smile twisted.
"If I'm a ghost," she snapped, "then I'll do this!"
She stomped forward and smashed the clock pendant against the stone floor.
"I wish you'd disappear!" she screamed. "Go back to the past and die!"
Her voice shook with rage.
"So what if you have everything? Your parents don't even love each other. You don't know what real love is."
She laughed sharply.
"You're just an upgraded orphan. That's your crack."
She turned—
The room exploded with light.
A violent shockwave ripped through the air, slamming Elena backward.
The walls screamed.
The floor shook.
Then—
Silence.
Darkness swallowed everything.
---