Nior Mansion
Rhea's voice was low. Too controlled to be casual.
"I'll give Mom her surprise tonight finally," she said, standing near the window. "Just not the way she expects."
Shyra leaned against the desk, arms crossed, already tense.
"You're playing with fire, Rhea."
"I know exactly where I'm standing," Rhea replied. "I'll tell Ling everything. The revenge. The past. Why I came. I'll ask her to pretend—just for Mom—that I broke her."
Shyra's jaw tightened.
"And you think Ling Kwong will agree to be humiliated so your mother can sleep better?"
Rhea didn't answer immediately.
"She loves me," she said finally. "She'll listen."
Shyra scoffed quietly.
"Love doesn't make people obedient. It makes them reckless."
Rhea turned.
"So am I."
They didn't notice the shadow by the door.
Kane Nior stood perfectly still in the corridor, one hand resting lightly on the wall. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop. She simply… stopped when she heard her daughters.
Every word landed cleanly.
Proposal.
Truth.
Pretending.
Breaking Ling only in appearance.
Kane's face didn't change.
Not a flicker. Not a breath out of place.
When the conversation lulled, Kane stepped back, adjusted her expression like a mask being set, and walked in as if she'd heard nothing at all.
Shyra stiffened first.
Rhea turned a second later.
"Mom," Rhea said evenly.
Kane smiled. Warm. Maternal. Dangerous.
"What are you two whispering about like conspirators?" she asked lightly. "Planning my downfall?"
Shyra forced a laugh.
"Just gifts."
Kane's eyes slid to her elder daughter.
"And what are you giving me, Shyra?"
Shyra answered smoothly, naming something safe, forgettable.
Kane nodded, satisfied, then turned to Rhea.
"And you?" she asked. "What are you giving me for my birthday?"
Rhea didn't miss a beat.
She stepped closer, chin lifted, voice sharpened deliberately.
"Revenge," Rhea said.
Shyra's breath caught.
Kane's eyes gleamed—not surprised, not pleased. Interested.
"I'll break Ling tonight," Rhea continued coldly. "I've invited her. I made her dependent. I'll finish it."
Kane studied her daughter's face for a long moment.
She saw the steadiness.
The controlled fury.
The perfect performance.
She did not see the truth behind it—because she chose not to.
Finally, Kane smiled and reached out, brushing Rhea's cheek with her thumb.
"That's my girl," she said softly. "I knew I could trust you."
Rhea didn't flinch.
Shyra looked away.
Kane turned, satisfied, already dismissing the moment from her mind.
"I'll get ready," she said. "Tonight should be… memorable."
When she left, the room felt hollow.
Shyra rounded on Rhea immediately.
"She might have heard us," Shyra hissed. "All of it."
Rhea exhaled shakily.
"She didn't."
"Sure?"
Rhea's voice dropped.
"She believes what she wants to believe," she said. "That's always been her weakness."
Shyra stared at her sister, something like fear creeping in.
"You're lying to a woman who built her life on lies."
Rhea nodded once.
"Yes."
"And proposing to someone you're telling the world you're breaking."
Rhea closed her eyes for a brief second.
"I'm doing both," she said. "Because if I don't—she'll destroy Ling for real."
Outside, the house filled with preparations. Flowers. Music. Celebration.
Inside Rhea's chest, two wars prepared to collide.
Kwong - Mansion
Ling stood in front of the full-length mirror, still, spine straight, jaw set.
The emerald blazer rested on her shoulders like armor.
It wasn't flashy emerald.
It was deep. Controlled. Dark enough to be mistaken for black under dim light, but unmistakably green when it caught gold.
The lapels were sharp, satin-edged, cut narrow—designed to draw the eye inward, toward her chest, her throat, her face. The blazer hugged her frame perfectly, tailored to the millimeter. One button fastened. One left deliberately undone.
Under it: a black silk shirt, open at the collar. No tie. No softness.
Her trousers were jet-black, high-waisted, pressed to lethal precision. Heavy boots grounded the look—not decorative, functional. Ling never dressed to be admired. She dressed to dominate the space.
She adjusted the cuff once.
Then again.
Dadi watched from the armchair, tea untouched, eyes sharp with amusement.
"You've checked that cuff three times," Dadi said mildly.
"Either it's crooked, or you're nervous."
Ling didn't look at her.
"I'm neither."
Dadi hummed.
"Liar."
Ling reached for her watch, slid it onto her wrist, fastened it carefully.
Rina burst in without knocking, already dressed herself—sleek black dress, hair pulled back, eyes glittering with anticipation.
"Oh," Rina said, stopping short. "Wow."
Ling glanced sideways.
"What."
"That blazer," Rina said. "You look like you're about to buy the building, not attend a birthday."
Ling shrugged.
"It's a dangerous house."
Rina grinned.
"So you dressed accordingly."
Dadi's lips curved.
"Emerald," she observed. "Interesting choice."
Ling finally met her gaze.
"It suits the night."
"It suits her," Dadi corrected.
Ling didn't deny it.
She reached for her sunglasses, slid them onto the bridge of her nose, then paused—removed them again, placed them on the dresser. Too much. Tonight required eyes visible.
Rina leaned against the doorframe, studying her cousin openly.
"You're serious about this girl," Rina said. Not teasing. Not light.
Ling's fingers stilled on the blazer button.
"Yes."
Rina's smile softened—but only for a second.
"Good," she said. "Because Aunt is going to hate this."
Ling's jaw tightened.
"I'm not bringing her," Ling said flatly.
Dadi chuckled.
"She doesn't need to be present to interfere."
Ling turned slightly, shoulders squaring.
"Then she'll interfere from afar."
Dadi rose, walked closer, and straightened Ling's lapel herself—precise, almost ceremonial.
"Remember," Dadi said quietly, "you're walking into a room built on seduction."
Ling nodded once.
"I know."
Rina picked up her clutch.
"So," she said lightly, "do I flirt, charm, distract—or all three?"
"All three," Ling replied. "Stay near Rhea."
Rina's eyebrows lifted.
"Protective."
Ling met her reflection again. Calm. Composed.
"Strategic."
Dadi smiled knowingly.
"Just don't forget," Dadi said, stepping back, "no matter how controlled you look—this is not your territory."
Ling fastened the blazer button at last.
"It doesn't have to be," she said. "She'll be there."
And that was enough.