As PK followed the butler toward the waiting car, a calm but firm voice rang out behind him.
"I'll take him home."
PK paused and turned slightly.
Riya Blackwell stood there, posture straight, expression composed. The butler immediately bowed to her, said nothing further, and stepped away, leaving the two of them alone beneath the garden lights.
PK neither questioned nor refused. He simply inclined his head once.
What he did not see was what had happened moments earlier.
After PK had left the garden, Silas Blackwell's gaze had settled on Riya—deep, deliberate, and wordless. No command was spoken, yet the intent was unmistakable. Riya understood immediately. Without hesitation, she had turned and followed PK at a near jog, her heart beating faster than she cared to admit.
Now, inside the car, Riya took the driver's seat while PK settled into the back. He leaned against the leather seat, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly.
His mind replayed the afternoon.
What the hell just happened?
He had gone there with a simple intention—to plant goodwill, to create a future channel with Silas Blackwell. Instead, fate had dragged him into a confrontation with multiple ruling families, forced his hand, and somehow placed him at the center of their calculations.
Four families, he thought calmly. Support, interest, or hostility—only time will tell.
Had he gone too far? Perhaps. Disrespecting men who ruled cities was never a safe move. Yet backing down would have been worse. PK understood that much.
Let's see what future holds, he concluded quietly.
What PK did not know was that throughout the ride, Riya kept glancing at him through the rearview mirror.
Every time she saw him—eyes closed, expression calm, unguarded yet untouchable—her grip on the steering wheel tightened just a little. The arrogance she had dismissed earlier now felt different. It was not loud. It was not forced.
It was earned.
Her cheeks warmed, and she looked back to the road, annoyed at herself.
An hour later, the car slowed and turned into the familiar gates of Law Manor.
"Sir PK," Riya said softly, bringing the car to a stop. "We've reached."
PK opened his eyes and looked forward, momentarily adjusting to the light.
"Just call me PK," he said casually as he stepped out. "That's enough."
He smiled once—brief, unassuming—and walked toward the entrance.
Riya remained seated for a moment longer, watching his back disappear into the manor. Her heartbeat refused to settle.
At the entrance, exactly as PK had expected, Lana, Luna, and Eve were waiting.
The moment PK appeared, their expressions eased. He smiled at them and walked inside without a word, familiar warmth returning to his posture.
For just a second, however, three pairs of eyes met another.
Riya's gaze crossed with theirs.
It was brief—but clear.
In that single exchange, Lana, Luna, and Eve understood something instinctively. A quiet acknowledgment passed between them, unspoken and sharp.
PK, oblivious to the undercurrent forming behind him, walked ahead.
The game outside had ended.
Another one had just begun.