The café buzzed the way it always did—too loud, too careful.
Ling Kwong sat at the center table like a throne had been dragged into public space. One boot hooked over the chair rung, arms relaxed, expression lethal in its ease. Rina lounged beside her, amused already, while the two boys—Rowen and Jian—stood behind, silent, watchful. Mira sat opposite, posture stiff, eyes sharp.
Ling didn't raise her voice.
She didn't need to.
"Party at my mansion tonight," Ling said, tapping her knuckle once against the table. "Course completion. Attendance is mandatory."
The café quieted in waves.
Everyone knew Ling Kwong party means, No excuses, No drama. Everyone comes.
Heads nodded immediately. Some smiled nervously. Some swallowed.
No one questioned Ling Kwong.
No one—
except Rhea Nior.
Rhea looked up from her coffee slowly, eyes cool, unreadable.
"I have plans."
The word landed like a crack in glass.
Rina's lips curved into a delighted grin. She leaned back, laughing softly.
"Oh, this is new."
Ling's head turned—slow, precise.
"What did you say?" Ling asked, calm enough to be dangerous.
Rhea met her gaze without blinking.
"I said I have plans. Your party doesn't outrank my life."
A murmur rippled through the café.
Rina laughed louder now, clapping once. "Ling," she teased, "you're being disobeyed."
Ling didn't look at her. Her eyes stayed on Rhea—burning, focused, unraveling.
"You don't get to decide that," Ling said, stepping closer. "When I invite, you show up."
Rhea stood too, closing the distance willingly.
"You didn't invite," she said quietly. "You ordered."
Mira's chair scraped back slightly. Her jaw tightened.
"Rhea, don't be disrespectful."
Rhea didn't spare her a glance.
The boys shifted subtly—Rowen crossing his arms, Jian's eyes narrowing. The air thickened.
Ling leaned in, voice low, meant only for Rhea.
"You enjoy pushing me."
Rhea's lips curved, slow and sharp.
"You enjoy losing control."
That did it.
Ling straightened abruptly, laughing once—cold, humorless.
"Fine," she said. "Come or don't. But remember this—"
She stepped back, reclaiming her space, her crown.
"Everyone who skips my house learns what exclusion really means."
Rhea picked up her cup, unbothered.
"I'll take my chances."
Rina wiped a tear of laughter. "Oh, Ling," she said lightly, "she's undone you."
Ling finally shot her a glare—pure warning.
Mira's eyes burned, jealousy sharp and ugly.
"She thinks she's above you."
Ling didn't answer.
Her gaze stayed on Rhea as she walked away—steady, defiant, untouched.
The café slowly returned to noise after Rhea walked out—but Ling didn't move.
She stared at the doorway longer than necessary.
Rina noticed. Of course she did.
"Wow," Rina said lightly, sipping her drink. "She said no… and walked away alive. Historic."
Ling finally looked at her. "Say one more word."
Rina grinned. "Relax. I'm impressed. You finally met someone who doesn't beg."
Mira's voice cut in, sharp. "She disrespected you."
Ling scoffed. "She challenged me."
That night—
Ling sat alone in her study. She never wanted anyone to come in party so desperately then why this???? she thought
Lights dim. Glass walls reflecting her own face back at her—cold, controlled, irritated.
She hated one thing more than disobedience.
Winning unfairly.
She picked up her phone.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Finally, she sent a single message.
Ling Kwong:
It's not an order.
It's an open floor.
Come if you want. Don't if you don't.
No consequences either way.
She stared at the screen, jaw tight.
"Idiot," she muttered—to herself.
Across the city, in the Nior mansion—
Rhea read the message once.
Twice.
She didn't smile.
She didn't frown.
Kane watched from the doorway. "Invitation?"
"Something like that," Rhea replied.
Kane raised a brow. "And?"
Rhea set the phone down calmly.
"She didn't force me."
Kane's lips curved faintly. "Smart girl."
Shyra's voice floated in from the hallway. "Are you going out tonight?"
Rhea glanced toward Amaya's room—heard the baby's soft breathing.
Then back to her phone.
"I'll stop by," Rhea said finally. "For an hour."
Kane tilted her head. "Careful."
Rhea's eyes darkened—not soft, not hesitant.
"I'm not going for her," she said.
"I'm going so she doesn't think she owns the ground I walk on."
Back at the Kwong mansion—
Ling stood by the window, hands in pockets, pretending she didn't care.
Her phone buzzed.
One message.
Rhea Nior:
I'll come.
Briefly.
As a guest. Not your subject.
Ling exhaled slowly.
Not relief.
Not victory.
Something far more dangerous.
"Fair," she whispered.
Because Rhea Nior wasn't coming because she was forced—
She was coming because she chose to.
And that made the night ahead
far more volatile than any order ever could.