The shop door creaked open, startling her. Ry walked in, his brows furrowed in concern.
"Lia? You look terrible. What happened?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm.
Lia hesitated, debating whether to tell him. "Nothing. Just a rough morning."
Ry's eyes narrowed, taking in her soaked clothes, bandaged hand, and scraped knee. "You're hurt. Sit down. Let me take a look."
"It's fine," she insisted, but her voice lacked conviction.
Ry knelt beside her, gently unwrapping the flannel from her hand. He winced at the sight of the gash. "This needs to be cleaned. Wait here."
He returned with a first aid kit, carefully cleaning and dressing the wound. Lia watched him, her heart heavy.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ry glanced up, his expression softening. "Lia, you don't have to do everything alone. You can talk to me."
She looked away, her throat tightening. "I'm fine. Really."
"You're not," Ry said gently. "And that's okay."
His words broke something inside her. The tears she'd held back all morning spilled over, and before she knew it, she was sobbing into his shoulder. Ry held her, his arms strong and steady, letting her cry.
"Wait here, I'll get you clean dry clothes" he said softly. "You are going to fall seriously ill if you keep going like this at this rate ."
Lia pushed herself off him. She did not mean to cry but somehow she needed to let those tears out. She had a long day today and letting out the tears made her feel way better than she thought she would feel. Within minutes, Ry was back with a change of clothes for her. His own clothes. She quickly changed and started making her way to school with five minutes left to get her work submitted else, marks would be deducted for any late submissions.
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The garden was a burst of colour, vibrant flowers swaying gently in the breeze. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and roses, a serene contrast to the storm brewing in Donna's mind. She sat in her wheelchair, her posture regal and commanding. Dressed in an elegant black gown that draped over her legs, her presence was both delicate and intimidating. Her snow-white hair was styled in a wavy pixie cut, framing her sharp features. Even in old age, Donna radiated a beauty that was almost otherworldly, a blend of grace and danger.
Tim stood silently behind her, his face a mask of professionalism, though the slightest tension in his jaw betrayed his unease. He cleared his throat.
"Donna," he began, bowing his head respectfully. "He's here."
Donna didn't turn. Her gaze remained fixed on the flowers before her, their vibrant hues reflected in her sharp eyes. She let the silence stretch, the air growing heavier with each passing second.
The sound of hesitant footsteps followed. Seyi Adesanya appeared, bowing deeply several feet away from her, his breath shallow and uneven. His nervous energy filled the space like static electricity.
"Donna," Seyi greeted, his voice trembling slightly.
Still, Donna didn't speak. She lifted a delicate hand and brushed her fingers against the petals of a rose, as if considering something far removed from the men standing before her. For a moment, the only sound was the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.
Finally, her voice broke the stillness, soft but commanding. "Look at how beautiful these flowers are, Mr. Adesanya."
Seyi straightened slightly, unsure if he was supposed to respond. The silence stretched again, unbearable.
"It's pollen season," Donna continued, her tone casual, almost conversational. "Do you know what happens during pollen season, Mr. Adesanya?"
Seyi's throat tightened, and his eyes darted to Tim, seeking help. Tim didn't meet his gaze, his expression remaining neutral. Clearing his throat, Seyi answered quickly, his voice dry and strained. "Pollen seasons are when pollen grains are released into the air to fertilize other plants."
Donna's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. "Very good. And do you know how these pollen grains are released?"
"Plants release them, Donna," Seyi said hurriedly, his words tumbling out in a rush. "To fertilize other plants."
Donna nodded, her gaze still fixed on the roses. Her voice dropped slightly, carrying an edge that made Seyi's heart pound. "So, Mr. Adesanya, why has a certain 'plant' failed to fertilize others when it's most certainly its task?"
The weight of her words hit Seyi like a physical blow. He dropped to his knees, his hands trembling. "Donna," he stammered, "I underestimated how deep his loyalty runs. But I've found a way to break him. To cripple that loyalty completely. I swear it will work."
Donna's silence was deafening. Seyi could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, the sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He dug his nails into his palms so hard they broke the skin, but he barely noticed the pain.
Finally, Donna spoke, her tone chillingly soft. "I hope you know what happens to a plant that has been given everything it needs to fertilize but still fails to do so."
Seyi's blood ran cold. He didn't need her to spell it out. In the Donna's world, failure was not tolerated—it was eradicated.
"I won't fail you, Donna," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"I hope not," she said simply, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.
Seyi stumbled to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him. Without waiting for further instructions, he turned and practically ran out of the garden, the weight of her presence still suffocating him.
Tim remained behind, his expression unreadable. He waited until the faint sound of Seyi's hurried footsteps disappeared before he spoke.
"How's it going with the bait?" Donna asked, her gaze finally shifting from the flowers to Tim.
"He's taken it," Tim replied evenly.
A sly smile spread across Donna's lips. "Good. Keep feeding him the false information, but don't make it too obvious. Let him believe he's uncovering something valuable. Make it hard to find, but not impossible."
Tim nodded, a glimmer of respect and fear in his eyes. "Of course, Donna."
Rhys thinks he's outsmarting the Donna Tim thought. But what he doesn't realize is that every move he's made has been orchestrated. He was not fighting the Donna—he's dancing to her tune Instead. Tim said nothing, but inwardly he marveled at her cunning. Rhys was formidable, a man who thrived on Loyalty and strategy. But against Donna, he was hopelessly outmatched.
"Do you remember how it all began?" Donna asked, her voice tinged with nostalgia.
Tim's mind drifted back to that fateful day, the moment the seeds of this intricate plan were sown.
FLASHBACK
The sun was high over the Khaos mansion, casting a golden hue across the same sprawling garden Only that this time, It was late afternoon, and Donna sat regally in her wheelchair, a black parasol tilted over her shoulder to shield her from the sun's glare. Around her, red tulips bloomed vibrantly, their petals seeming to glow under the light. Yet, despite the serene beauty of the garden, the atmosphere was anything but tranquil.
Donna held a stack of reports in her hands, the pages rustling softly as she flipped through them. Her sharp, calculating eyes scanned each line with meticulous precision. Every detail, every word, was a piece of a puzzle only she could see.
Tim stood nearby, stiff and silent, awaiting her words. He had learned long ago that interrupting Donna while she was deep in thought was a mistake no one repeated twice.
Finally, she spoke, her voice deceptively light and casual. "Oh, by the way, Rhys is growing a community." She paused, her lips curving into a chilling smile. "That should never happen."
Tim's gaze didn't waver, but inwardly, a shiver ran down his spine.
Donna continued, handing the reports to him with an unsettling nonchalance. "He's clever, I'll give him that. But cleverness without control…" She trailed off, letting the words linger in the air. "...is dangerous. Don't you think?"
Tim nodded, his throat dry. "Yes, Donna."
She tilted her head slightly, as if savoring the moment. "Why don't we play a little game with him?" Her tone was almost playful, but her eyes were ice-cold. "It's been far too long since I had puppets dancing on my strings."
Tim said nothing, but he knew exactly what she meant. Donna's "games" were legendary—and deadly.
Donna leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the tulips. "Eddie," she mused, her voice dropping to a murmur. "He despises Rhys's guts, doesn't he?"
Tim's lips twitched slightly. "Yes, Donna. He's been vocal about it."
"Good," Donna said, her smile widening. "Eddie is impulsive, irrational. A fool, really. He thinks he's clever—thinks I don't know about his little schemes. Stealing from me, sullying my name…" She chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. "He's been quite entertaining."
Tim remained silent, knowing better than to comment.
Donna's voice grew sharper. "But his usefulness has run its course. And Rhys—well, he's becoming too ambitious for his own good. Two birds, one stone. Don't you think?"
Tim nodded again. "How do you want to proceed, Donna?"
Donna's eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Eddie's hatred for Rhys is a fire. All we need to do is fan the flames."
She outlined her plan with precision, her words cutting through the still garden air like a blade. She would plant evidence that would drive Eddie into a frenzy—just enough to make him act. Donna's spies ensured that Rhys would receive carefully curated information: photos, videos, and whispers about Eddie's secret dealings. Deals only Donna herself could have known about, carefully orchestrated and documented to implicate Eddie further.
"Eddie will confront Rhys," Donna said, her voice steady and sure. "And in his desperation, he'll use the untouchable power I've so generously granted him." Her lips curled into a smile that sent a chill down Tim's spine. "Rhys, of course, will defend himself. And in doing so…"
"He'll take care of Eddie for you," Tim finished, his voice barely above a whisper.
Donna inclined her head, pleased. "Precisely. It's a shame, really. Eddie was my brother's son. A family obligation." Her tone dripped with disdain. "I promised my elder brother I'd look after him. And I have. But the boy has squandered every opportunity, every advantage I gave him. Now, he's nothing but a liability."
Tim hesitated for a moment before asking, "And Rhys? What happens once Eddie is gone?"
Donna's smile returned, colder than ever. "Ah, that's where the real fun begins. Eddie's death will put Rhys in an awkward position. The other branch family members will smell blood in the water. They'll turn on him. And when they do…" She let the sentence hang, her meaning clear.
Tim swallowed hard. "You'll take his power."
Donna's voice softened, almost a whisper. "Exactly. By the time they're done with him, he'll be nothing but a shadow of the man he once was. And I'll remain above it all—benevolent, untouchable."
Tim glanced at the tulips, their red petals swaying gently in the breeze. They suddenly seemed less like flowers and more like drops of blood.
And so it began.
Donna's network of spies and informants moved like clockwork, planting seeds of distrust and chaos. False leads were carefully crafted, whispers of betrayal spreading like wildfire. Eddie, as Donna had predicted, took the bait almost immediately. The planted evidence was enough to send him into a blind rage.
Meanwhile, Rhys received his own set of breadcrumbs—just enough to keep him on edge, suspicious, and ready to defend himself.
The confrontation came late that one night inear the flower shops just in the inner most part of the city. Eddie, armed with false confidence and the belief that he was untouchable, stormed in, his accusations flying. Rhys, sharp and calculating, had come prepared.
The ensuing altercation was messy and violent, ending with Eddie's lifeless body sprawled on the cold concrete floor.
THAT SAME NIGHT
Donna sat in the garden once more, the red tulips replaced by a sea of yellow daisies. Tim stood behind her, his posture stiff but his expression unreadable.
"Eddie is gone," Tim said quietly.
Donna nodded, her gaze fixed on the daisies. "And Rhys?"
"He's… troubled. The branch family will question his actions once he's found out. The whispers will grow louder and swallow him."
"Good," Donna said, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Let's help accelerate things. Call a meeting of every branch. Eddy's death is a step in the right direction. I need to see Rhys squirm while I talk about Eddy's death. Every move he makes from now on will only dig him deeper into the grave I've prepared for him."
Tim hesitated, then asked, "Donna, do you think Rhys suspects anything?"
Donna chuckled softly. "Suspect? No. He believes he's on top of his game That's the beauty of it, Tim. The moment they think they've outsmarted me is the moment I've already won."
Tim nodded, but he couldn't shake the unease in his chest. Donna's games were brilliant, yes—but they were also ruthless.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in shades of orange and gold, Donna's voice cut through the silence once more.
"Prepare the next step," she said. "Rhys still has a few cards left to play. Let's see how far he's willing to go before he realizes the deck is stacked against him."
Tim bowed his head. "Yes, Donna."
As he walked away, he couldn't help but glance back at her. Donna sat in her wheelchair, a picture of elegance and power. She was a woman who thrived on control, a puppeteer whose strings reached farther than anyone could imagine.
And Rhys, like so many before him, was just another puppet.