The mansion gates closed behind Rhea with a weight that settled straight into her chest.
She walked in like nothing had happened. Shoes aligned. Bag set down neatly. Spine straight.
It didn't fool Kane for a second.
"Sit."
Rhea stopped.
Kane stood near the window, arms crossed, phone placed face-down on the table like a verdict already delivered. She didn't raise her voice. She never did when she was most dangerous.
Rhea turned slowly. "I'm tired."
Kane's eyes cut to her. "You were supposed to make her feel safe."
Rhea didn't move.
"Dependent," Kane continued, calm and surgical. "Unquestioning. Soft enough to shatter when you leave."
She took a step closer. "But what I see—"
Rhea's jaw tightened.
"—is you standing there," Kane finished, "watching her like you'd forgotten the plan."
"That's not true," Rhea said immediately.
Kane tilted her head. "She can kiss you sneak in our mansion."
Rhea swallowed. "That means it's working."
Kane laughed quietly. Not amused. "No. That means you're losing control."
Rhea lifted her chin. "I'm not dependent."
"Then why did you leave without having word with me this morning?" Kane asked. "Why are you wearing her shirt?"
Silence hit hard.
Rhea forced her voice steady. "It's just clothes."
Kane stepped closer. Close enough that Rhea could smell her perfume—sharp, expensive, familiar.
"You were sent to break her," Kane said. "Not to orbit her."
"I'm doing exactly what you asked," Rhea lied smoothly. "She's attached. I'm not."
Kane searched her face for a long, quiet second.
Then she nodded once. "Good."
Rhea's stomach dropped.
"Because if you forget why you're there," Kane added softly, "I'll remind you."
Rhea didn't respond.
She turned and walked to her room without permission.
She closed the door. Locked it.
Only then did her shoulders sag.
She leaned back against the wood, eyes burning—not crying. Not yet.
She pushed off, crossed the room, dropped onto the bed fully clothed.
A knock came almost immediately.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Shyra slipped in, already smiling.
"Well," she said lightly, closing it behind her, "Miss Damn Hot really caused chaos today."
Rhea groaned. "Don't."
Shyra perched on the edge of the bed. "She fell hard."
"I didn't ask for that."
Shyra raised an eyebrow. "You didn't stop it either."
Rhea rolled onto her side, facing away. "She's impossible."
"And yet," Shyra said gently, "you're wearing her clothes."
Rhea grabbed a pillow and shoved it over her face. "You're enjoying this too much."
"I enjoy you being flustered," Shyra corrected. "Rare sight."
Rhea muttered, muffled, "She embarrasses me."
Shyra leaned closer. "You are glowing."
Rhea pulled the pillow away, eyes sharp. "Don't say that."
Shyra's smile softened just a touch. "Careful, Rhea. She is not the only one slipping."
Rhea stared at the ceiling, silent.
Shyra nudged her knee. "So. Does she know she won?"
"No," Rhea said immediately. "She isn't winning."
Kwong - Mansion
The dining room was lit the way everything in the Kwong house was—controlled, expensive, intimidating.
Long table. Polished stone. Food plated perfectly and barely touched.
Ling sat with her jacket draped over the back of her chair, sleeves rolled, posture relaxed in a way that fooled no one who knew her. Her hands were clean now. Jersey gone. Control restored.
Almost.
Victor Kwong watched her over his glass for a full minute before speaking.
"So," he said calmly, "how was the match?"
Ling didn't look up. "We won."
Victor smiled. "You always do."
Rina snorted into her water.
Dadi's eyes were already sharp, amused, cutting. "That's not what he asked."
Ling finally picked up her chopsticks. "I played well."
Victor leaned back. "You played flawlessly. Sponsors called before halftime. One of them asked if you're auditioning for distractions now or if that was accidental."
Ling's mouth twitched. Barely.
Rina grinned. "Flying kiss was a nice touch. Very CEO-coded. Visionary."
Ling shot her a look. "Eat."
Dadi laughed softly. "Don't scold her. She's proud. We all are."
Eliza hadn't touched her food.
She set her cutlery down with precision. "You embarrassed yourself."
The table stilled.
Ling's gaze lifted slowly. "I won."
"That's not the point," Eliza replied coolly. "You invited speculation. Headlines. Noise."
Victor interjected smoothly, "She's an athlete. The crowd expects—"
"They expect discipline," Eliza cut in. "Not theatrics."
Rina tilted her head. "Funny. I thought theatrics were part of branding."
Eliza ignored her. "You're being watched more closely now, Ling. Not just as a player."
Ling leaned back in her chair. "You mean as future CEO?"
Victor's eyes lit with interest. "Exactly."
He folded his hands. "Board's discussing succession timelines again. They want to know where your focus is."
Ling didn't hesitate. "On winning."
Dadi arched a brow. "In business or in life?"
Ling glanced at her. "Same thing."
Rina smirked. "That didn't answer anything."
Victor smiled faintly. "They're also asking about optics. Stability. Associations."
Eliza's eyes sharpened. "Which is why certain… distractions are inconvenient."
Ling's jaw tightened. "You mean people."
"I mean choices," Eliza corrected. "You're young. Impressionable."
Rina laughed outright. "Ling? Impressionable?"
Dadi leaned in, voice mild but edged. "Careful, Eliza. When you say things like that, she tends to do the opposite."
Ling set her chopsticks down. Not hard. Deliberate.
"I don't need managing," she said. "I need room."
Victor studied her. "Room for what?"
Ling met his gaze evenly. "Control."
Dadi smiled. "There she is."
Rina propped her chin in her hand. "So. Progress?"
Ling glanced at her. "On dinner?"
Rina rolled her eyes. "On life. Future. The thing Aunt is pretending not to name."
Eliza's expression didn't change.
Ling stood, lifting her jacket. "I'm done."
Victor frowned slightly. "Ling—"
"I have training tomorrow," she said calmly. "And meetings."
Dadi watched her with knowing eyes. "Sleep, then. You look… distracted by your girlfriend."
Ling paused for half a second.
Then she shot Dadi a glare and walked out.
Rina waited until Ling was gone before grinning. "She's doomed."
Eliza's voice was ice. "She's unfocused."
Dadi sipped her tea. "No. She's attached."
Victor exhaled slowly, thoughtful.
And upstairs, Ling closed her bedroom door, leaned back against it—
—and for the first time since the match, let her head fall slightly.
Only slightly.