Dylan's POV
My conscience was drained—utterly drained—and the pain made my heart plummet like a sail torn by a storm. Watching Richie hold Nare felt like cancer devouring the depths of my soul.
**"Richie!"** I roared, his name detonating in my skull like gunfire.
He yanked off his red bandana, eyes narrowing. **"Why are you screaming my name like that?"**
I clenched my fists, silent.
**"There's a punishment for barging into rooms,"** he said, voice dripping with condescension, **"and a far worse one for invading my privacy."**
We watched in silence as he slid his feet into those ridiculous red slippers, the gold chain on his ankle glinting mockingly.
**"Stop staring and get the fuck out of my way."** He flung the silver-coated door open, and we filed out like scolded dogs.
Time crawled. Minutes bled into hours. Still, no Richie.
**"Where the hell is he?"** KD snarled.
Elsa offered a placating smile. **"He'll join you shortly. He's... occupied."**
**"Occupied with what?"** I spat, fury searing my veins.
One of Richie's guards bowed. **"Apologies. He'll be here soon."**
*Or he's still with Nare.* My imagination conjured images I couldn't stomach.
When Richie finally appeared, he descended the stairs with infuriating leisure, hands gliding along the polished railing.
**"Alberto, my apologies for the delay,"** he said, collapsing onto the couch beside me. Despite everything, Richie never abandoned me—our friendship was his one unshakable loyalty.
**"Dylan, sorry to keep you waiting."** His apology twisted the guilt deeper into my gut. I couldn't lose him over a girl.
*But I love Nare.*
**"You're overthinking,"** Richie said, reading me as always.
**"I'm fine,"** I lied.
Alberto cleared his throat. **"Richie, Skylar Daniels—the man who murdered that nineteen-year-old girl eleven years ago—he's never revealed who hired him. Dylan petitioned for his release. We need your signature."**
Richie's face darkened. **"You signed a plea for a killer?"**
Alberto hesitated. **"KD, Scot, and Dylan did. Not me."**
**"What authority does Dylan have?"** Richie's voice was lethal. **"Is he president? Skylar deserves death, not freedom. And I want the name of whoever sent him.**" He snapped his fingers at me. **"That's your new mission."**
**"Meeting adjourned."** He shredded the petition. **"Next time, bring me something that isn't garbage."**
He vanished upstairs.
Fuming, I stormed out. But as I reached the parking lot, I glanced back—and saw *her*.
Nare stood framed in the window, bathed in moonlight, her pink sleeping net sliding off as she shook out her hair.
**"She's beautiful,"** I whispered.
Our eyes met. Then she turned away, slamming the window shut, leaving me in the dark.
---
Nare's POV
7:00 AM
**"Your outfit's on the bed. Dress and call me when you're done,"** Elsa said.
**"Yes, Mum,"** I replied. The word felt right.
I locked the bathroom door, but the glass panel left me exposed. *What if Richie walks in?* I draped a towel over it—too short—then scrambled to lock the bedroom door.
Too late.
Richie strode in as I clutched my towel. He didn't leave. Didn't even blink.
I retreated to the bathroom, hastily covering the glass with a curtain. Safe—for now.
When I emerged, he was still there, my clothes just beyond reach.
**"Sir, my clothes!"**
**"Come get them,"** he taunted.
I inched forward. The towel slipped.
**"My towel!"** I shrieked, hurling my clothes at him.
Richie dangled the door key. **"Two seconds, Nare."**
I climbed onto a wobbling stool. As I grabbed my clothes, the stool tipped—
He caught me, his grip iron-tight.
**"Sorry,"** I breathed.
His eyes turned glacial blue. **"Kiss me."**
**"What's a kiss?"** I whispered.
His lips brushed mine. I jerked back, screaming.
The hurt in his eyes gutted me—then he was gone.
---
Later
Elsa fastened a necklace around my throat—Richie's demand. **"Remove that bangle. He hates it."**
**"No!"** I wrenched it back. **"It's from my twin."**
She hugged me suddenly, tears soaking my shoulder. **"Your mother's truly gone?"**
**"Granny Amber raised us... until we were sold."**
Elsa sobbed harder. **"What's your talent?"**
**"I—I don't have one,"** I lied.
**"You're lying!"**
I fled before she could see the truth.
*Nare's POV**
"No, I'm just late," I blurted, sprinting toward the parking lot before Elsa could respond.
Pedro, Richie's most trusted guard, caught my wrist. "Ma'am, you'll fall if you keep running."
"Thank you, sir." I let him guide me into the car, where he took the front seat beside the driver.
The car glided through the silent, heavily secured streets—not a soul in sight—until we arrived at a lavish estate. The security was tighter than usual, guards lining the perimeter like statues.
Pedro opened the mansion's door and shadowed me inside. Aunty Roshni and Shantel waited in the opulent living room.
"Welcome, dear!" Roshni beamed. Shantel smirked, her eyes sharp as knives.
"Good morning, ma'am." I smiled at Roshni, ignoring Shantel. Her cruelty wasn't worth my breath.
Pedro cleared his throat. "You might get fired for staring at her like that."
Shantel stiffened. "S-Sorry…"
I sat beside Roshni, who immediately took my bag. *I adore her.* She'd taught me so much—things I'd never learned in the village.
"First, let's review your homework." She flipped through my notepad and nodded. "You're improving. But your word choice needs work."
The smart board on the wall flickered to life.
"Do you remember the alphabet sounds?"
"Yes. You taught me."
"Then you should spell and pronounce these." She arched a brow.
"I… I'm not sure."
"Relax." She launched into a lesson on blending words, writing sentences, and pronunciation. Three hours later, my head throbbed, but I bit my tongue. Complaining would only invite Shantel's venom.
"Do you understand?" Roshni asked.
"Yes," I lied.
"Rest for now."
I reached for my chocolates.
"Not now!" Shantel snapped.
Roshni intervened. "Say this quickly: *Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?*"
My tongue twisted. "Gosh, that's hard."
"Faster!" Shantel barked.
I stumbled through the words.
"Dullard! Say it faster!"
I glared. "A 'dullard' is someone with no sense—like you."
Roshni stifled a laugh. Shantel's face darkened, but she stayed silent under Pedro's watchful gaze.
I ate my chocolates while Roshni turned on the TV. A movie played—two characters leaning in for a kiss.
"Rewind it!" Roshni clapped.
I frowned. *So this is kissing? Disgusting.*
"Dharma's such a good kisser," Shantel sighed.
"Disgusting," I muttered.
"Spell it!" she demanded.
"D-I-S-G-U-S-T-I-N-G."
She seethed but said nothing. Her jealousy was obvious, especially when she eyed the bangle Richie gave me. I tucked my hand into my bag and matched her glare with three of my own.
After four more hours of lessons, Roshni packed sweets into my bag. *She's my best friend.*
Pedro escorted me to the car. "Ice cream next? Your favorite."
I nodded.
At the cookie shop, he handed me a black mask studded with silver stones. "For privacy."
Inside, Pedro piled his cart with absurdities—a cake worth 20,000 rupees, jars of candy, things we didn't need.
"Sir Richie said to spend 100,000 rupees," he explained.
I lingered near the exit, mask off, when I saw them: *Mhesha. Alisha. And—*
My twin.
Nara stood between them, ragged and bruised. My breath caught.
Mhesha glanced my way. I spun around, masking myself.
"Nare?" Nara's voice was a whisper.
I froze.
"Is that you?" She stepped closer.
I turned slowly, pulling off the mask.
Her eyes widened. "Run! Mhesha's coming!"
But I couldn't leave her. Not again.
"Nare, *go*!" she pleaded as Mhesha's footsteps thundered closer.
I turned—
Too late.
Mhesha's grin sliced through the crowd.