Nior Mansion
Rhea's room didn't look like a bedroom anymore.
It looked like intent.
The curtains were changed—thick, cream silk, drawn halfway so the light filtered in gold instead of white. The bed was remade with crisp sheets, dark-toned, expensive, untouched. Not inviting in a casual way. Inviting in a deliberate way.
Flowers were everywhere—but not loud.
White lilies near the window.
Deep red roses arranged low along the wall.
Soft warm fairy lights woven subtly around the headboard, dimmed just enough to glow, not sparkle.
On the side table: two crystal glasses.
A bottle of wine already breathing.
A small velvet box—empty for now.
Everything screamed millionaire restraint, not excess.
Shyra stood near the door, slowly turning in place, taking it all in.
"…You really did this," she murmured.
Rhea adjusted one candle, perfectly straight.
"I don't do half things."
Shyra looked at her.
"You're not even shaking."
Rhea finally exhaled.
"Later."
Shyra walked closer, lowering her voice.
"If Mom comes in here—"
"She won't," Rhea said immediately.
As if summoned by defiance, Kane's voice drifted from the corridor.
"Rhea?"
Rhea straightened instantly and stepped out, closing the door behind her with a soft but firm click.
"Yes, Mom?"
Kane's eyes flicked briefly to the door, curiosity sharpening.
"What are you hiding in there?" Kane asked lightly. "You've never been territorial about a room."
Rhea smiled—cool, practiced.
"Just my mess," she replied. "You hate clutter."
Kane hummed, pretending to consider.
"I'll see it later."
"No," Rhea said—too fast.
Then, smoother:
"After the guests leave. I'm still setting things."
Shyra stepped in casually.
"I dragged her into helping me with the seating. You'll hate that more."
Kane waved a dismissive hand.
"Fine. Go."
Rhea didn't move until Kane turned away.
Only then did she breathe.
Later, when the house was louder—music testing, staff moving, voices overlapping—Rhea left to check the garden lights. Shyra was pulled into a conversation. The corridor near Rhea's room emptied.
Kane noticed.
She didn't rush. She never did.
She walked slowly, fingers brushing the wall, stopping in front of Rhea's door.
Paused.
Then opened it.
The room greeted her softly.
Flowers.
Lights.
Silence.
Kane stepped inside, eyes scanning with a strategist's precision. She took in the arrangement, the intent, the intimacy.
Her gaze landed on the table.
The letter.
Folded once.
Cream paper.
Rhea's handwriting—sharp, unmistakable.
Kane picked it up.
She read it.
Her face didn't change.
Not when she saw the words meant for Ling.
Not when she understood the purpose of the room.
Not when the truth aligned perfectly with what she already suspected—but refused to acknowledge openly.
She folded the letter back exactly as it was.
Placed it precisely where it had been.
Adjusted one flower that was leaning too far left.
Then she turned off the bedside light Rhea had forgotten—leaving the glow exactly how it was meant to be.
Kane stepped out.
Closed the door.
And walked away as if she had never entered.
As if she had never read a single word.
As if tonight was unfolding exactly as planned.
Kwong - Mansion
Ling's phone rang while she was fastening the last button of her emerald blazer third time.
An unknown number.
She frowned slightly, then answered.
"Yes?"
The voice on the other end was smooth. Warm. Cultured.
"Ling Kwong," the woman said. "This is Kane Nior."
Ling straightened instinctively.
"Yes, Mother in law... I ii i mean Mrs. Nior."
"I'm calling to personally invite you," Kane continued, tone gracious, "to my birthday celebration tonight."
Ling's lips curved into a genuine smile.
"I was already planning to attend."
"I know," Kane said lightly. "But I want you to do something more."
Ling listened.
"Bring your family," Kane said. "It would please me to finally meet them."
Ling's smile widened, pride flickering through her eyes.
"That would mean a lot to us," she replied. "Rhea—"
Kane cut in smoothly.
"Don't tell Rhea."
Ling paused.
"It's a surprise for her," Kane added, amusement threading her voice. "I want to see her face when she realizes tonight isn't just about cake and candles."
Ling laughed softly.
"She'll be happy."
"Of course," Kane said.
Ling didn't hesitate.
"We'll be there," she said. "All of us."
"Good," Kane replied. "I'll be waiting."
The call ended.
Ling stared at her phone for a second—then turned, energized, eyes bright.
Lounge
"Change of plans," Ling announced calmly.
Eliza looked up from her tablet.
"What plans."
"Rhea's mother invited us," Ling said. "All of us."
The room stilled.
Victor's expression sharpened immediately.
"Her mother invited the family?"
"Yes."
Dadi raised an eyebrow, interest sparking.
"That's bold."
Rina clapped once.
"Oh this just got good."
Eliza stood slowly.
"We're not going."
Ling turned to her mother.
"Yes, we are."
Eliza stiffened.
"We're not going."
Ling turned to her mother.
"Yes, we are."
Eliza crossed her arms.
"Ling, we don't even know this woman."
"She's Rhea's mother," Ling said evenly. "That's enough."
Victor studied his daughter.
"You're sure this is appropriate?"
"They invited us," Ling replied. "Formally."
Rina grinned.
"Refusing would look rude."
Dadi nodded.
"And weak."
Eliza exhaled sharply.
"You're pushing."
"I'm choosing," Ling corrected, voice calm but unyielding.
A long silence.
Finally, Victor said,
"Fine. We'll go."
Eliza looked displeased but said nothing more.
Dadi stood.
"Then dress well. First impressions linger."
Ling nodded once.
She sent a message.
> Ling:
I'm on my way soon.
Don't get curious.
At the other end, Rhea smiled—completely unaware of how much tonight had shifted.