Kelly moved back into Aham's life the way poison slipped into water-slow, colorless, unnoticed by anyone who wasn't looking closely.
She didn't rush him. She didn't demand explanations or forgiveness. She played the long game, arriving with softness, vulnerability, and carefully measured regret.
"I don't expect you to trust me," she said one afternoon as they sat in his living room. "I just want a chance to prove I'm not your enemy."
Aham watched her over the rim of his glass.
Enemy.
The word almost made him laugh.
"You can stay," he said calmly. "For now."
Kelly's breath hitched in relief.
She thought she had won the first battle.
Clara did not like it.
She stood in the doorway later that evening, arms crossed, eyes sharp as knives. Kelly had already retired to the guest room, humming softly as she passed.
"You're letting her live under your roof," Clara said.
"Yes."
"Knowing she tried to destroy you."
"Yes."
"And knowing she may try again."
Aham turned to her fully. "That's why she's here."
Clara's jaw tightened. "This is dangerous."
"So is war," he replied quietly.
Silence stretched between them, thick with fear and something else-something tender.
"You trust me?" he asked.
Clara met his gaze. "With my life."
"Then trust this."
She nodded slowly, though her heart wasn't convinced.
Kelly lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling.
Everything felt too easy.
Aham was colder, yes-but still kind. Still attentive. Still... human.
She touched the vial hidden in her bag.
Soon, she told herself.
Just not yet.
Don Pedro had instructed patience.
"Let him lower his guard," he had said. "Let him believe the past is dead."
Kelly smiled in the darkness.
She had always been good at pretending.
Elsewhere, Don Pedro met with men who never smiled.
"He's letting her close," one reported.
"Good," Don Pedro said. "Love makes men stupid."
"What about Jane Smith?" another asked.
Don Pedro's hand paused mid-air.
"No one finds her," he said sharply. "If she resurfaces, everything burns."
The next day, Aham met the old woman in a discreet private lounge.
"She's inside," he said. "Just like you predicted."
The woman nodded. "Then Don Pedro is watching."
"I want him to," Aham replied. "I want him comfortable."
She studied him carefully. "Revenge consumes many men."
"I won't let it," Aham said. "But I won't run from it either."
The woman smiled faintly. "You sound like your father."
Aham stiffened. "You knew him well."
"Well enough to protect what he died for."
She slid a sealed envelope across the table.
"Jane Smith will contact you when the time is right," she said. "Until then, stay alive."
That evening, Kelly cooked dinner.
Aham watched her from the doorway, memories clawing at him-the warmth, the laughter, the lies.
"You remember this recipe?" she asked lightly.
"Yes," he said. "You burned it the first time."
She laughed, a real sound. For a brief second, the past flickered dangerously alive.
Later, as they sat close on the couch, Kelly leaned into him.
"I miss us," she whispered.
Aham did not push her away.
From the corner of the room, a hidden camera blinked once.
Clara sat in her office that night, staring at the screen filled with surveillance feeds.
She hated every second of it.
Her phone buzzed.
Aham: She's making her move slowly.
Clara: Be careful.
Aham: I am.
She typed, hesitated, then sent:
Clara: I'm here. Always.
Aham read the message and felt something steady anchor him.
Near midnight, Kelly slipped into the bathroom and opened the vial again. She poured a single drop into a glass, watching it dissolve instantly.
"So easy," she whispered.
She returned to the bedroom, smiling sweetly.
"Goodnight," she said.
"Goodnight," Aham replied.
He waited until her breathing evened out before opening his eyes.
From beneath his pillow, he retrieved a small device-Clara's latest safeguard.
She visibly tried to kill him.
And he had proof.
The game had moved from pretend to lethal.
Outside, thunder rolled across the city.
Somewhere in the shadows, Mrs. Jane Smith watched from a distance, clutching a flash drive that could end an empire.
And Don Pedro slept peacefully-
Unaware that every move he made was being recorded.
---