The Nior mansion was unusually calm.
Golden lamps glowed low, shadows stretching long across marble floors. The city outside slept, but inside the Nior house, time slowed.
Rhea sat on the couch, Amaya cradled in her arms.
The baby was warm, impossibly light. One small hand curled around Rhea's finger, trusting without knowing why. Amaya made a soft sound—half breath, half sigh—and settled against Rhea's chest.
Rhea's jaw unclenched without permission.
"Ninna," Shyra said gently, watching her. "She likes you."
Rhea didn't reply. She brushed her thumb over Amaya's cheek instead, careful, almost reverent. This—this—was the only softness she allowed herself.
Kane stood near the window, wine untouched in her glass. She observed them like a strategist watching a board already in motion.
"You ran today," Kane said calmly.
Rhea stiffened. "I was called."
"I know," Kane replied. "I arranged it."
Shyra turned sharply. "Mother."
Kane didn't look at her. "I wanted my daughters under one roof tonight."
Rhea lifted her gaze, eyes cold. "Or you wanted information."
Kane smiled faintly. "You always were quick."
Amaya stirred, and Rhea instinctively pulled her closer, like a shield.
Shyra stepped forward, voice soft but firm. "Rhea, enough. You're not at war here."
Rhea laughed under her breath. "You think wars announce themselves?"
Shyra crouched beside her, touching Amaya's tiny sock. "I think you're becoming someone you don't have to be."
Rhea looked away.
Kane finally turned. "How is Ling Kwong?"
The name landed like a blade.
Rhea's grip tightened—just slightly.
"She's irrelevant," Rhea said.
Kane studied her daughter's face, every micro-expression. "Is she?"
Silence.
Amaya yawned, her fingers tightening around Rhea's shirt. The simple, wordless need cut deeper than any accusation.
Shyra whispered, "You don't have to carry this alone."
Rhea's voice came low, controlled. "I'm not carrying it for myself."
Kane's eyes sharpened. "Good."
Shyra looked between them, realization dawning. "Mother… what are you asking her to become?"
Kane's tone was smooth. "I'm asking her to remember."
Rhea finally spoke, eyes dark, distant.
"I remember everything."
She looked down at Amaya then—at the innocent weight in her arms, the future untouched by grudges.
Shyra took Amaya saying "She is sleepy I'm coming" she disappeared down the corridor with Amaya, her soft footsteps fading into the quiet of the mansion. The door closed gently.
Silence settled.
Rhea remained standing where she was, arms crossed now, jaw tight. The warmth Amaya had left behind felt like an accusation.
She turned slowly to Kane.
"Tell me something," Rhea said, voice flat but dangerous.
"Shyra loves you more than me."
Kane didn't deny it.
"She's patient. She's devoted. She would burn herself just to keep you warm." Rhea laughed once, sharp. "She's the elder. She's mature. So tell me—why didn't you choose her for your revenge?"
Kane stepped closer. Her heels echoed like a countdown.
"Because Shyra feels," Kane said coldly. "And feeling is a weakness when you're aiming for destruction."
Rhea's eyes flickered.
Kane lifted Rhea's chin with two fingers—not gentle. Possessive.
"She would have questioned me," Kane continued. "She would have cried. She would have tried to forgive." A scoff. "Disgusting."
Rhea swallowed. "And me?"
Kane smiled.
"You didn't ask if we should burn the past," Kane said softly. "You asked how deep."
Rhea's breath slowed.
Kane's voice dropped, intimate, poisonous.
"If I had told Shyra to break Ling Kwong… she would have fallen for her instead."
Rhea's lips parted slightly.
"But you?" Kane leaned in, forehead nearly touching Rhea's. "You are fire raised by fire."
She tapped Rhea's chest once.
"My fire."
Rhea's pulse thudded hard.
"You won't fall," Kane whispered. "You won't hesitate. You won't get weak."
She pulled back just enough to meet Rhea's eyes.
"You won't fall for her," Kane said again—this time not a question, but a challenge.
"Right?"
For a moment—just one—the image of Ling flashed uninvited:
rage, control, lips pressed in silence, those eyes burning.
Rhea's mouth curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
"Fall?" she said quietly.
"No."
"I'll make her kneel."
Kane exhaled, satisfied.
Rhea smiled
For a fraction of a second, doubt flickered.
Then she buried it.
Because softness was dangerous.
And tomorrow, she would return to the university—
to Ling Kwong.
And the fire she pretended not to feel.