The café was quiet.
Not because it was empty—but because Lingling Kwong was there.
She sat at the center table, posture relaxed yet commanding, blazer still sharp, boots crossed at the ankle. Jian stood near the counter, scanning the room like a guard. Rowen leaned against the wall, phone in hand, eyes half-amused. Mira sat beside Ling, closer than anyone else was ever allowed, hands wrapped around a cup she hadn't touched.
And Rina stood near the table.
Ling trusted her.
Which already made her important.
The café staff moved silently. No one laughed too loud. No one lingered.
Peace—controlled, artificial peace.
Then—
Heels clicked.
Ling didn't look up.
She didn't need to.
The air shifted.
Rhea Nior walked in.
She carried a cup of coffee.
Her gaze swept the room once.
Stopped.
Ling felt it—again.
That irritating, infuriating pull.
Rhea didn't approach Ling's table directly. She moved past it, unhurried, pretending interest in the menu.
Then—
She turned.
Too fast.
Too close.
The cup tilted.
Coffee spilled.
Straight onto Rina.
Hot liquid splashed across Rina's sleeve, dripping down her wrist. She gasped, stepping back instinctively.
"Oh—" Rhea said lightly. "Oops."
Every sound in the café died.
Rina froze, eyes wide, shocked—not just by the burn, but by who had done it.
"I didn't see you there," Rhea added calmly, blinking once.
Ling stood up.
Slowly.
The scrape of her chair was thunder.
Jian shifted instantly. Rowen's smile vanished. Mira's hand tightened around her cup.
Ling's eyes locked onto Rhea—dark, cold, lethal.
"You," Ling said quietly.
Rhea turned fully now.
Up close, her lips curved faintly. Not apologetic. Curious.
"Yes?" she replied.
Ling stepped closer, towering just enough to remind everyone of hierarchy.
"You spill something on my people," Ling said, voice flat, "you apologize."
Rhea looked at Rina.
Really looked.
Then back at Ling.
"Apologize?" she echoed softly. "I said it was an accident."
Rina swallowed, shaking slightly. "It's— it's okay, Miss—"
"Don't," Ling snapped, not taking her eyes off Rhea.
Rhea tilted her head, studying Ling's face like a puzzle.
"So this one matters," Rhea said lightly. "Interesting."
That was deliberate.
Ling felt something twist—anger, yes—but sharper.
"You are crossing the line," Ling said.
Rhea's gaze dropped briefly to Rina's stained sleeve.
Then she smiled.
Slow. Dark. Intentional.
"No," Rhea replied. "I just figured out how."
Silence hit like a blow.
Rhea stepped back, lifting her cup again.
"Careful," she added sweetly, eyes never leaving Ling's. "Accidents tend to repeat themselves."
She turned and walked away, heels steady, untouched.
Ling stood rigid.
That wasn't clumsiness.
That was arrogance.
That was calculation.