Rhea slammed the car door shut and leaned back against the seat, hands gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
"Shit… shit… fuck," she muttered under her breath, eyes squeezing shut.
What had she done?
Her chest felt tight—anger, panic, regret all tangled together. She replayed the morning in brutal flashes: Ling's arms, the warmth, the way she'd spoken so sharply just to escape before she broke.
"What will Mom think?" Rhea whispered, jaw tightening. "What will she say now…"
Her phone vibrated again.
She looked down.
Missed Call — Shyra
Missed Call — Shyra
Rhea froze.
Understanding hit her instantly—slow, sinking, unavoidable.
She knows.
Shyra wasn't stupid. The lie. The overnight stay. The name Ling Kwong. Her sister had connected the dots the moment the call ended.
Rhea cursed softly, starting the engine with more force than necessary. "Great. Just great."
She pulled out of the driveway, eyes burning—not with tears, but with something far more dangerous: doubt.
Back at the Kwong mansion, breakfast was being served like nothing had shattered the night before.
Crystal clinked softly. Cutlery moved. The air was deceptively calm.
Ling sat at the table, posture perfect, expression unreadable.
Rina watched her for a full ten seconds before grinning.
"So," she said lightly, sipping her juice, "is this the part where you pretend nothing happened?"
Ling didn't look up. "Eat your breakfast."
Rina laughed. "Oh, I am. I'm also enjoying the drama." She leaned closer. "Did you know you looked one breath away from begging last night?"
Ling shot her a glare sharp enough to silence her—but only for a moment.
Across the table, Eliza noticed Mira standing a little too close to Ling's chair. She adjusted her napkin calmly and spoke as if discussing the weather.
"Some people are… distractions," Eliza said smoothly. "They burn bright, but they don't belong in every space."
Mira's lips curved into a hopeful smile.
Ling stiffened.
Her fork paused mid-air.
Rhea's face flashed in her mind—sleeping, vulnerable, warm against her chest. The way her breath had steadied. The way she'd looked at her that morning, defensive and proud and gone.
Ling clenched her jaw.
"She's not a distraction," she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else.
Eliza raised an eyebrow. "Ling."
Ling stood abruptly, chair scraping back.
"I'm done," she said flatly.
She walked away from the table without another word, images from the night before following her like ghosts she refused to face.
Rina watched her go, smile fading into something thoughtful.
Dadi stirred her tea slowly, eyes sharp with knowing.
And Mira—standing beside the seat Ling had just left—felt a cold truth settle in her chest:
Whatever Ling Kwong was pretending—
It was already too late.
Meanwhile, Rhea's car rolled into the Nior mansion far too quietly.
She stepped out, shoulders squared, mask already in place—but the moment she crossed the threshold, she felt it.
The tension.
Kane Nior stood in the living room, arms crossed, posture immaculate, eyes sharp enough to slice through excuses. No tea in her hand. No phone. Just waiting.
Rhea stopped.
"So," Kane said coolly, breaking the silence, "you decided to come home after sunrise."
Rhea inhaled. "I told you I might be late."
Kane laughed softly—dangerously. "Late is an hour, Rhea. Not a night spent in the house of a Kwong."
Rhea's jaw tightened. "Nothing happened."
Kane took a step forward. "That's not what concerns me."
Rhea finally looked at her. "Then what does?"
Kane's eyes hardened. "That she answered Shyra's call. How she got your phone?"
Rhea froze.
"So it's true," Kane continued, voice smooth and cutting. "You were not there to answer your phone?"
Rhea's voice sharpened defensively. "I had a panic attack. I fainted. She helped. That's all."
Kane tilted her head. "I didn't say that does that happpened?? Did she?"
Rhea swallowed. Images betrayed her—arms around her, warmth, safety she had never been meant to feel.
"She crossed lines," Rhea said quickly. "She thinks she owns everything. I put her in her place."
Kane watched her closely. Too closely.
"And yet," she said softly, "your hands are shaking."
Rhea clenched them into fists. "Don't analyze me."
Kane stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I didn't raise you to feel, Rhea. I raised you to burn."
Rhea's chest tightened. "You said I was fire."
"You are," Kane agreed. "Which is why you must not melt."
Rhea looked away.
Kane's tone softened—dangerously so. "Ling Kwong is not a girl you sleep beside and walk away from unchanged."
"I didn't sleep beside her," Rhea snapped.
Kane smiled faintly. "Then why do you look like you lost something?"
Silence.
Kane reached out, lifting Rhea's chin gently—but her grip was iron beneath the tenderness.
"Remember why you went there," Kane said, voice low. "Her father built an empire while your Mom swallowed ashes."
Her eyes burned. "Ling is his weakness."
Rhea's heart thudded painfully.
"And you," Kane whispered, "are meant to be hers."
Rhea pulled back. "I won't fall."
Kane studied her daughter for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"Good," she said. "Because if you do…"
Her smile was thin. Cold.
"…this revenge will consume you before it ever touches her."
Rhea turned away, heading for the stairs, Kane's words echoing like a curse behind her.
Upstairs, behind a closed door, Rhea pressed her back to the wall—breathing hard.
And for the first time since this began, she wasn't sure whether she feared Ling Kwong—
Or herself.