Ling's car rolled to a stop in front of the mansion, sleek and silent under the night lights. Her pulse was calm, measured, yet every nerve tingled with anticipation. She adjusted the emerald lapels of her tailored blazer, hands brushing the sharp edges just so, noticing the subtle shimmer of the cufflinks Dadi had teased her about earlier.
The door opened, and she stepped out, sunglasses still perched on her nose, hair swept behind her ears, heels clicking deliberately against the marble driveway. She inhaled, the scent of the night mingling with the faint perfume lingering from Rhea's room earlier.
Inside, Rhea waited. Emerald silk hugged her curves perfectly, backless and bold, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She stood straight, hands clasped in front, eyes flicking toward the door every second. Her chest rose and fell rapidly—not panic, but tension sharp enough to taste. Each breath felt like a countdown.
Every heartbeat screamed one question: Did her family tell Ling everything?
Ling saw her and froze—just for a fraction of a second. Emerald against emerald, flawless lines of fabric and body in perfect alignment, her breath hitched. Eyes wide, pupils dilated slightly, she strode forward and closed the distance in three purposeful steps. No hesitation. No teasing smile yet—just raw, private intensity.
She wrapped her arms around Rhea in a sudden, tight hug, pressing her against herself. The embrace was claiming, not gentle, not soft—her body pressed insistently, letting Rhea feel the strength and obsession radiating from her. Ling's cheek brushed Rhea's temple, and her lips whispered close enough to flirt:
"Damn… my baby girl looks… perfect."
Rhea froze, eyes glistening. She could feel Ling's heartbeat against her own. Every inch of her body reacted, yet she couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't even breathe normally. The emerald silk was warm beneath Ling's hands. Her mind screamed both warning and surrender.
Rhea's thoughts raced. She doesn't know.
She doesn't know the truth. She doesn't know about Kane, about revenge, about every plan that had twisted her family and her life until this night.
Ling tightened the hug ever so slightly, letting her strength brush against Rhea's back, her hands lingering intentionally along the curve of her waist. Then she leaned back just enough to look at her, eyes gleaming behind those sunglasses.
"You," Ling said softly, voice low, almost dangerous, "you have no idea what you do to me."
Rhea's lips parted, but only a whisper escaped, nothing audible. Her chest heaved, tears threatening to spill, and she realized fully that her secret, her plan, her revenge, were all safe for now. Ling was blissfully unaware.
Ling chuckled quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind Rhea's ear, lingering there as if she had all the time in the world. Then, still close enough that Rhea could feel every intention in her touch, she added:
"Stay like this. Don't move. Don't even think of leaving me."
Rhea's knees felt weak. She wanted to resist, to push back, to reclaim control—but she didn't. Couldn't.
The room felt smaller, tighter, electric with tension. The mansion outside disappeared. The future outside disappeared. For a moment, it was just them, tangled in emotion, secrecy, and obsession, with every glance, every brush of skin, every whispered word layering the silence with dangerous intent.
Rhea's fingers fidgeted with the hem of her emerald dress, eyes locked on Ling's as if she could carve her words directly into her chest. "I… I want to tell you something," she said, voice tight with urgency.
Ling raised an eyebrow, lips curling slightly.
"Later," she murmured, teasing, letting the words linger between them like a spark waiting to ignite. "Why so eager, baby girl?"
Rhea stepped closer, insistence flashing in her eyes. "No, I mean it—before anything else. I need you to hear it now."
Ling's chest tightened slightly, sensing the weight behind Rhea's tone. She reached out, brushing a hand along Rhea's arm, letting her feel the warmth, the quiet ownership in her touch.
"Fine," she said, softer this time. "Tell me. Quick, then—"
Before Rhea could gather her courage, a soft but commanding voice interrupted.
"Hello, Ling."
Both turned in unison. Kane stood there, composed, elegant, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips.
Ling blinked, maintaining control, though her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected presence.
"Hello… future mother-in-law. Happy birthday," she said politely, yet her eyes flicked briefly to Rhea, searching for reassurance.
Kane's smile deepened, deliberate, calculating. She greeted Ling formally, but every subtle tilt of her head, every measured pause, carried the weight of history—past betrayal, lingering resentment, hidden knowledge that Ling had no idea existed.
Turning to Rhea, Kane said lightly, "I have some work to attend to. Come with me."
Rhea's eyes flickered to Ling, a storm of emotion brewing silently behind emerald-lashed lids. She didn't think of revenge now. Not tonight. Her mind was singularly focused:
what if Ling heard the truth from someone else? What if Ling believed Rhea had never truly loved her? That thought tightened her chest, made her fingers clench into the fabric of her dress.
Ling remained still, poised, mask perfectly in place—but beneath the surface, her fingers twitched slightly, her pulse quickened, the world narrowing to Rhea's lingering scent, the tension in her posture, the unspoken urgency in her gaze.
Rhea paused at Kane's side, heart hammering. She offered a small, barely-there smile at Ling, almost apologetic, almost pleading.
"Later… I promise," she whispered under her breath, though only Ling could have heard.
Ling nodded, lips parting in a subtle, teasing curve—but her eyes betrayed the storm within.
"I'll be waiting," she said, voice low, almost a growl, and stepped back just enough to maintain control, letting the silence hang like a fragile thread between them.
Kane, oblivious to this unspoken current, guided Rhea toward the hallway, the two moving together, yet Rhea's gaze never left Ling's form, and Ling's body remained taut, alert, every nerve tuned to the emerald dress, the tension, the scent of desire and fear entwined.
Rhea walked with Kane, each step heavy with unspoken words.
Every second away from Ling felt like a countdown.
She knew the weight of tonight—every interaction, every glance, every touch would be a memory Ling held, oblivious to the truth Rhea carried like a knife behind her ribs.
Ling remained alone in the room, pulse steady, fingers brushing the edge of the nearby table, already plotting—mentally cataloguing every detail about Rhea's stance, her expression, the way her hair fell, the tension in her shoulders.