Zifa didn't even stop the car properly.
The gate slid open, tires screeched, and she almost dragged Rhea inside the mansion. Rhea's weight was barely there — light, trembling, slipping through her grip like she was already halfway gone.
"Rhea, stay with me," Zifa said urgently, voice shaking despite herself. "Just a little more, okay? Look at me."
Rhea tried.
Her vision split — two Zifas, then three. The ceiling lights blurred into white streaks. Her fingers were ice-cold, nails faintly blue.
"I'm fine," Rhea whispered automatically, the lie weak, practiced, useless. "It'll stop. It always—"
Her knees gave out.
Zifa caught her just in time, shouting for help, lowering her to the floor as blood seeped through the wrap again — darker now, heavier, unstoppable.
"Rhea!" Zifa cried. "Don't you dare close your eyes."
Rhea's lips parted, but no sound came out.
Her head lolled to the side.
And then she collapsed completely.
Kane saw everything.
She had just stepped into the hall, heels precise, posture immaculate — and then she froze.
Rhea's body on the marble floor.
Blood staining fabric.
Zifa screaming her name.
For a split second — just one — Kane's face cracked.
Grief.
Fear.
"Call the doctor," Kane snapped instantly, kneeling beside Rhea, fingers already at her pulse. "Now. Don't just stand there."
Zifa was shaking. "She's been bleeding since— since the university. She wouldn't let me tell you."
Kane's jaw tightened dangerously.
"She always hides pain," Kane said coldly. "Just like her mother once did."
Rhea stirred faintly, a broken sound leaving her throat. "Mama…" she whispered — not pleading, just exhausted.
Kane's hand stilled on her wrist.
She looked down at her daughter — pale, soaked, fragile in a way Kane had sworn she'd never allow again.
"This is what weakness looks like," Kane said softly, to no one and everyone. "This is why love is forbidden."
But her hand trembled as she brushed Rhea's hair back.
The doctor arrived in minutes — chaos followed.
"She's in hypovolemic shock," he said sharply. "Blood loss, dehydration, stress. Why wasn't this treated earlier?"
Kane didn't answer.
Her eyes stayed locked on Rhea's face as oxygen was placed, IVs connected, blood cleaned away revealing how bad it truly was.
"She pulled it," Zifa said, voice breaking. "She said it got stuck."
Kane's fingers curled slowly.
"No," Kane said quietly. "Someone pulled it out of her."
The room fell silent.
Rhea's body jerked suddenly, a weak cry escaping her as pain surged back through her veins.
"Mama—please," she sobbed faintly. "I didn't mean to— I just wanted to fix it."
Kane leaned down, lips close to Rhea's ear.
"You should have finished what you started," Kane whispered, voice sharp as glass. "Breaking her doesn't mean breaking yourself."
Tears leaked from the corners of Rhea's eyes.
"I never wanted to hurt her," she breathed. "I just wanted her to stay."
Kane straightened slowly.
Her expression was composed again. Controlled. Dangerous.
"Love makes you bleed," Kane said. "And I won't let you bleed."
As the doctors worked, Kane stepped back — watching, calculating, already reshaping the battlefield.
Ling Kwong had shattered tonight.
But Kane Nior's daughter was on a hospital bed because of it.
And Kane would not forget that.
Ling was still in her personal gym.
Sweat soaked. Her knuckles were wrapped crudely, red seeping through white gauze. The punching bag swayed slowly now, abandoned, as Ling stood with her hands on her knees, chest heaving.
She hadn't stopped for hours.
Her phone vibrated once on the bench.
Ling ignored it.
It vibrated again.
Something in her chest twisted — sharp, wrong.
She straightened slowly, wiped sweat from her jaw, and walked over. Her movements were heavy now, punished into exhaustion.
One notification.
Zifa.
Ling frowned faintly. She hadn't spoken to Zifa since… since everything.
She unlocked the phone.
The message was short.
Too short.
Zifa: Rhea is in the hospital.
Ling stared at the screen.
Once.
Twice.
Her mind refused to process it.
Hospital.
She let out a low, disbelieving laugh.
"No," she muttered to the empty room. "No, she was walking. She was talking. She was yelling at me."
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Another message came in.
Zifa: She collapsed. Excessive bleeding. Shock.
She's unconscious.
The phone slipped from Ling's hand.
It hit the rubber floor with a dull thud.
Ling stood frozen, eyes unfocused, like the world had tilted without permission.
Bleeding.
Shock.
Her fingers flexed slowly — and she saw it again.
The piercing ring on the floor.
Blood on her hand.
Rhea saying please don't.
Ling's breath hitched violently.
"No," she whispered hoarsely. "No, no, no—"
She bent forward suddenly, hands braced on the bench, nausea ripping through her. Her vision tunneled.
"I didn't—" her voice cracked. "I tightened it. That's all. I didn't—"
Her chest seized painfully.
She grabbed the bench harder, knuckles screaming in protest, until the pain grounded her.
Hospital.
Her phone vibrated again on the floor.
Ling didn't pick it up.
She sank down slowly instead, sitting on the cold gym floor, back against the bench, elbows on her knees.
Her head dropped into her hands.
"This isn't real," she murmured, voice breaking completely now. "This is just another thing to punish me."
Another vibration.
She forced herself to grab the phone.
Zifa: Ling… she lost a lot of blood.
They're stabilizing her.
Her mother is here.
Ling's jaw clenched so hard it ached.
Kane.
Her chest filled with something dark and suffocating — fear mixed with rage, tangled with guilt so sharp it hurt to breathe.
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
She typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Deleted.
What could she say?
I'm sorry sounded like a lie.
Is she okay sounded selfish.
Tell her I didn't mean it sounded useless.
Ling locked the phone instead.
She pressed it flat against her chest, right over her heart, like it could stop the violent pounding there.
"I walked away," she whispered to herself, eyes burning. "I left her bleeding."
Her breath broke into a harsh, shaky laugh.
"You finally did it, Ling Kwong," she said quietly. "You wanted distance. You got it."
She pushed herself up unsteadily, wiping her face roughly with the back of her arm.
Her reflection in the mirror looked unfamiliar — hollow-eyed, bloodied, shaken.
Not a ruler.
Not untouchable.
Just a woman who might have destroyed the one person she couldn't afford to lose.
Ling picked up her phone again.
This time, she didn't type.
She just stared at the screen — at Zifa's name — knowing that whatever she did next would change everything.
And for the first time since the night began,
Ling Kwong was afraid — not of betrayal, not of revenge —
but of arriving too late.