Ava was only 5'5, but the sleek heels she wore gave her an effortless height, elongating her already slender frame. Her outfit was a perfect balance of elegance and danger—a fitted off-shoulder satin top paired with a high-waisted mini skirt that hugged her natural curves without screaming for attention.
A thin diamond chain rested against her collarbone, matching the delicate earrings that caught the light every time she moved.
Her honey-blonde hair fell straight and silky down her back like a waterfall, glossy under the lights. Her oval face was soft yet striking—pale blue doe eyes framed by long lashes, gentle arched brows, a cute button nose, and pouty red lips curved just enough to suggest amusement.
When she smiled, faint dimples appeared, making her look innocent in a way that felt almost deceptive.
Milky skin.
Glassy, flawless.
Enchanting.
She didn't need to try.
The blonde felt it—and hated it.
Ava tilted her head slightly, eyes calm, lips lifting into a lazy smile as the music pulsed behind her.
"Then I should thank you," Ava said smoothly, sarcasm dripping from every word,
"for opening my eyes."
The music didn't stop.
The bass thudded through the manor like a living heartbeat, glasses clinking, bodies swaying, laughter spilling everywhere. A couple nearby was pressed against the bar, kissing without restraint.
Someone shouted near the DJ booth as another drinking game started, cheers rising when a bottle tipped over and spilled across the marble floor.
The party was too wild to die for anyone.
The blonde girl stepped closer to Ava, lowering her voice, her breath laced with alcohol and irritation.
"You're in my house," she whispered sharply. "My party. My domain. Be careful, new girl. Who knows—people don't always go home in one piece after nights like this. Accidents happen. Especially at intense parties."
Behind them, someone laughed loudly, another couple stumbling past, drinks sloshing dangerously close to Ava's heels. A few students nearby sensed the tension and slowed, curiosity flickering in their eyes—but none stepped in.
Ava laughed.
Soft at first. Then louder.
"Oh no," she said dramatically, lifting her phone as if in panic. "I'm so scared. I should call my mommy. Poor little me."
She lowered her phone, smile sharp as a blade.
"You're terrible at being intimidating and also a terrible host," Ava continued casually. "Bad manners, bad threats. If you want to threaten someone, I can teach you. But I have home training—I don't bark like a dog in public. Unlike some people."
The blonde's expression darkened.
Ava tilted her head, eyes calm, voice effortless.
"And I know why you're trying to bully me. Let me guess—your crush? Or your boyfriend?" She paused, lips curling. "Or whatever you call a sex buddy these days… his eyes wandered."
She took a slow step forward, close enough that the blonde could smell her perfume.
"Or maybe," Ava added lightly, "you're just jealous of my face. I don't blame you. I mean—look at me." She gestured lazily at herself. "Even I fall in love when I look in the mirror."
Her gaze flicked over the blonde's face, dismissive.
"Talk less of a failed plastic."
With that, Ava walked past her.
For half a second—
The area went quiet.
A few people paused mid-drink. Someone's jaw dropped. A girl near the stairs whispered, "Did she just—"
Then the music dropped again.
The DJ switched tracks.
The crowd screamed.
Laughter burst out. Someone jumped back into dancing. A guy shouted for more drinks. The party swallowed the moment whole, like it had never happened.
Behind Ava, the blonde let out a sharp laugh—cold, furious.
She turned and slapped one of the girls beside her.
"Why the hell are you laughing?" she snapped. "Have you ever seen a dog laugh at its master? Or are you stupid enough to laugh at me?"
The girl froze, clutching her cheek, eyes lowered.
The others exchanged quick looks—awkward, nervous—but still followed as the blonde stormed away, heels striking the floor aggressively.
The party roared on.
In the pool, someone jumped in fully clothed.
Near the bar, two strangers kissed like the world was ending.
On the balcony, smoke curled into the night sky.
And Ava disappeared into the crowd—
The backyard was a different world.
Unlike the manic luxury inside the manor, this space felt raw, reckless, and lawless. Strings of warm fairy lights were tangled through tall trees, casting a hazy glow over laughing faces and half-hidden corners.
A bonfire crackled near the center, people gathered around it in loose circles, bottles passed freely from hand to hand.
A long wooden table had been dragged near the pool, already cluttered with mixed drinks, shot glasses, cards, and dice. Some students sat on the grass, others lounged on pool chairs, shoes kicked off, laughter loud and unfiltered.
A group nearby was shouting dares, another playing a drinking game that involved jumping into the pool fully dressed.
Someone screamed when they lost.
Someone else cheered when they won.
Music from inside leaked out, softer here but still pulsing.
The party rolled on without rules.
Just then, Emily stepped into the backyard.
"Over here!" a girl called out.
Natasha waved enthusiastically, sitting at the table with a group of eight—five boys and three girls. Emily walked over.
"I never knew you attended parties like this," Emily said, eyebrow raised.
Mike shrugged lazily, legs crossed, fingers idly spinning his glass. "My cousin's party. I had to show up, didn't I?"
"Oh? Your cousin?" Emily replied flatly. "Interesting. You don't even know her name. Such deep family love."
A few people snorted, trying—and failing—to hide their laughter.
Mike glanced at them, unimpressed. "You don't like her."
"I don't like everyone," Emily shot back. "What's your point?"
"Alright, alright!" Natasha clapped her hands. "Enough talking. Let's make this fun."
She leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"We're playing Dare or Drink. You refuse a dare? You drink. Not some weak nonsense—I mean mixed alcohol. Two full cups for every dare you chicken out of. Either take the dare or accept your fate and go home drunk that's if in one piece."
Laughter erupted around the table.
"Sounds fair," a guy with dyed yellow hair said, lifting a bottle. "I brought the drinks."
The game started.
The bottle spun.
Cheers echoed as dares were thrown around. One girl was dared to remove her shirt—she winked, then did just enough to make the crowd scream in excitement before completely removing it showing her bra .
Someone else was dared to confess their most scandalous secret.
"Well," the girl said slowly, clearly enjoying the tension, "let's just say… I slept with my boyfriend father and mother and uncle and also his best friend."
The table went dead silent especially the boyfriend.
Emily choked on her drink, coughing hard.
Natasha's mouth fell open.
Someone muttered, "No way."
Mike didn't react.
He sat there calmly, swirling his drink, gaze unfocused—as if he were somewhere else entirely. Detached. Bored. Counting something invisible in his mind while chaos unfolded around him.
The bottle spun again.
It stopped.
The yellow-haired guy grinned.
"Alright," he said, leaning back. "Emily."
Everyone turned to her.
"I dare you," he continued slowly, "to sit on Brother Mike's lap.
The laughter faded.
Eyes shifted between Emily and Mike.
Mike finally looked up, one eyebrow lifting slightly—but he didn't interrupt. Didn't refuse. Didn't move.
He simply waited.
All eyes were on Emily now.
The fire crackled.
Music thumped faintly in the distance.
The party held its breath.
"Tsk."
Emily laughed lightly, tilting her head as if genuinely amused.
"Aren't you being a little too enthusiastic as a matchmaker?" she said lazily. "You should at least ask if he's even on my schedule before arranging seats."
She poured herself a fresh glass of wine, unbothered by the way the table had gone quiet. Emily already knew what the yellow-haired guy was doing—trying to please Mike, pushing narratives, forcing proximity.
How boring.
She lifted the glass, about to drink—
When someone took it straight from her hand.
"There you are," a voice said warmly. "I was looking everywhere for you, but you're here having fun without me. I'm heartbroken."
Nathan appeared beside her as if he'd always been there. He smiled, all harmless charm, and drank the wine meant for Emily without asking.
Emily blinked once… then laughed.
"What are you doing?!" the yellow-haired guy yelled, shooting to his feet.
The backyard stilled.
Heads turned.
Whispers rippled.
Even the bonfire seemed to crackle louder.
Mike glanced at the yellow-haired guy.
Slowly, deliberately, he placed his cup down.
He didn't say a word.
The message landed anyway.
The boy's face flushed red as he realized his mistake. He swallowed hard and sat back down, stiff and silent.
"Wow," Nathan drawled, eyes flicking lazily toward him. "Your dog is pretty loud, Mike."
The words landed sharp—but Nathan's expression stayed playful, almost innocent. A teasing smirk tugged at his lips, eyes gleaming with mischief.
Mike leaned back against the couch, crossing his legs calmly.
"I don't have a dog," he said evenly. "Must be the alcohol affecting you."
He paused, gaze cool.
"And I prefer cats. Dogs bark too much… and rarely attack."
Silence.
Nathan's smile widened, but he didn't respond.
The yellow-haired guy went pale.
He finally understood.
Nathan had openly mocked him—called him Mike's dog.
Mike had denied knowing him at all.
And dismissed him as noise. Useless. All bark, no bite.
I haven't even gotten close to him…
And I'm already despised.
Cold sweat rolled down the boy's spine.
Emily watched the exchange with mild interest, then leaned back in her seat, unfazed.
"So," she said casually, eyes flicking between the two men. "Are we continuing the game, or did the entertainment already peak?"
Nathan chuckled softly, stepping closer to Emily.
"Depends," he said lightly. "What mood are you in tonight?"
Emily met his gaze, lips curving slowly.
"That," she replied sweetly, "depends on how stupid people decide to be."
The party resumed—music louder, laughter
"Okay, okay, don't kill the mood," Natasha laughed, eyes flicking between them. "So, Emily… who is this guy?"
Nathan answered before Emily could.
"I'm her boyfriend."
Emily scoffed, rolling her eyes as she lifted her glass. "Even in your dreams, that would still be impossible."
A ripple of laughter spread through the group.
Nathan pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "Wow. Denying me already?" he said softly. "Didn't we just leave the hotel room? And you're acting like I don't exist."
As he spoke, his fingers slid lazily along his neck—just enough to reveal a faint red mark.
Not obvious.
Not hidden either.
His timing was perfect.
Mike saw it.
Nathan sat down casually, poured himself a drink, and ignored the stunned looks around him like nothing unusual had happened.
Emily clicked her tongue inwardly.
Tsk. Bastard.
If I hadn't been the one in that hotel with him, I would've believed it myself.
She sighed lightly.
If I knew he could act this well, I would've taken more shares.
Mike's eyes narrowed as they settled on Nathan.
"It seems you enjoy staying away from family," Mike said calmly. "You've gained quite a lot of freedom."
The words sounded casual.
The meaning wasn't.
Nathan smiled faintly. "Freedom isn't as fun as people think," he replied. "Especially when you have to earn everything yourself."
His gaze sharpened as he looked straight at Mike.
"And it gets difficult when a mad dog keeps blocking my way to making money. The dog used to behave when I had backing. Now that I don't…" he shrugged lightly. "Its ugly face is showing."
The air around them tightened.
Mike took a slow sip of his drink, unhurried.
"A mad dog, indeed," he said evenly. "Be careful."
He leaned back slightly, eyes cold.
"You never know. A dog that used to bite with backing might bite even harder when it has nothing left to lose."
A few people exchanged uneasy glances.
Nathan burst out laughing.
"Good thing I have Emily," he said cheerfully, tilting his head toward her. "She took me in as her sugar baby. I don't have to worry about mad dogs."
He leaned forward, pointing openly at Mike's face, eyes bright with mockery.
"look look Look at you. You look like you want to kill me."
Mike set his glass down.
The sound was soft—but deliberate.
He looked straight at Emily.
She raised a brow. "What?" she said lazily. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
Her gaze flicked briefly to Nathan.
Tsk.
These two are exchanging knives with their eyes, and now they want to drag me into it.
"He doesn't believe me," Nathan said lightly. "Why don't you tell him? Maybe if he hears it from you, he'll finally leash that mad dog of his and stop destroying my business."
Emily's smile vanished.
She placed her cup down slowly.
Then, without warning, she grabbed Nathan by the chin.
The movement was smooth. Casual.
Possessive.
She lifted the bottle, popped it open, and tipped it straight to his lips.
"Drink."
Nathan barely had time to react before the liquor burned down his throat. She didn't stop until nearly half the bottle was gone. Only then did she pull it away and set it aside.
"Indeed," Emily said calmly, fingers still gripping his chin, "he's my sugar baby."
She tilted her head, considering him.
"No—scratch that. My little toy."
Her voice was firm. Detached. Coldly amused.
"I don't want his fragile little heart getting hurt." Her eyes flicked to Mike. "And he's interesting. Still needs training, though."
She released Nathan like he was nothing.
What she didn't say was louder than what she did.
Touch his business again, and you're touching mine.
I won't stay quiet.
Mike wasn't stupid.
He heard it clearly.
Nathan coughed, liquor tearing through his throat. His eyes watered as he bent forward slightly, breath uneven. A low chuckle slipped out between coughs.
He glanced up at Emily.
For a split second—just one—something dark passed through his eyes.
Not amusement.
Not flirtation.
Killing intent.
"Her actions speak louder than words though we are business partners if you dare use me as a shield you will suffer"
Then he lowered his gaze, masking it perfectly, stepping closer to her side like a well-behaved accessory.
"Hm," he murmured hoarsely near her ear, voice low and intimate. "If I need training… why don't you train me more?"
Around them, the party roared on.
Mike stood up.
He paused.
The air between the three of them tightened—thin as glass, sharp as a blade.
And everyone who mattered felt it.
"Emily," Mike said, looking straight at her, his voice calm but edged, "you just came back from abroad, and you're already supporting someone who'll give you nothing but headaches. Can you really handle it?"
Emily lifted her gaze slowly, one leg crossed over the other, posture relaxed and unbothered.
"The bigger the danger," she replied coolly, "the more intoxicating it is."
Her lips curved faintly.
"You know that better than anyone. And between the two of us, risk is child's play to me." Her eyes sharpened. "I always get what I want. I either own it… or I destroy it. There's no other way you yourself have experience it."
Mike studied her for a moment.
"And that," he said quietly, "is exactly why I haven't made a move yet."
He straightened. "Looks like we'll be playing another game."
With that, he turned and walked away.
"Sister Emily," the yellow-haired guy rushed after her, clearly anxious. "You're making a mistake. That nobody doesn't even hold a candle to Brother Mike. Why are you being so short-sighted? Do what's best—"
A fork flew past his face.
It slammed into the ground with a sharp clang, embedding itself inches from his foot.
The surrounding chatter froze.
Emily's eyes were cold as she looked at him.
"Watch your mouth," she said.
Then she turned and walked away without another glance.
"Well," Nathan said lightly, as if bored, "I'll go use the bathroom."
He slipped away calmly, disappearing into the corridors as the party noise swallowed the tension behind him. Red
Nathan slipped out through the back corridor of the mansion, the noise of the party fading behind him. He hummed softly under his breath, an almost cheerful tune, as if nothing in the world could bother him.
He pushed open a random guest room, stepped inside, and locked the door.
The bathroom light flicked on. He leaned over the sink, studying his reflection for a moment before splashing cold water onto his face. Droplets slid down his sharp jawline as his phone began to vibrate against the counter.
He answered it and set it beside the sink.
"You gave company shares to someone?" John's voice came through, tight and disbelieving.
"Yes," Nathan replied calmly. He grabbed a towel and dried his hands. "And about that file on Emily—redo it. Reinvestigate everything."
A pause.
"Because of you," Nathan continued, tone turning colder, "I underestimated my opponent. You should thank whatever god you believe in that I don't trust strangers and I'm always prepared."
"I'm sorry," John said quickly.