"I hope you don't mind me using your bathroom," Ariella said as she descended the stairs toward me.
"Of course I don't mind," I replied with a sneer. "I just hope you didn't help yourself to more of my belongings."
She blinked innocently, widening her eyes like some helpless angel.
"What? What are you talking about, my sister?"
I ignored her, brushing past on my way to the kitchen. I grabbed a soda and muttered, "I need water."
"Why did you come home so late?" Damian's voice cut through the airrough, low, and clearly irritated.
"And why are you both together?" I shot back, taking a sip of the sparkling water. It was so cold, it almost burned going down.
Damian faltered for a second, stealing a quick glance at Ariella, who was towel-drying her hair. He thought I wouldn't catch his subtle gestures. But I saw everything.
"There was a big fight in the city," he said with a straight face. "I saw Ariella on the way home, and I offered to bring her here. At least our place is safe. If you'd bothered to check your phone, you'd see all the missed calls from me."
"Sorry, my phone died." I pulled it from my pocket and waved it slightly.
I wasn't in the mood to respond to his obvious bluff. If he wanted to play games well, I invented them.
Let's see who wins.
"Damian asked me to spend the night," Ariella chimed in with a pout, her voice laced with honey. "I hope you don't mind, Rhea. Do you?"
"Of course I don't mind," I said coldly, locking eyes with her.
You and my husband had sex in my bed.
Did you really think things would magically change if I pretended not to care?
"Ever since we were kids, you took everything I loved from Barbie dolls to clothes, jewelry, even my friends. You never actually wanted those things... you just wanted them because they were mine."
I slammed the glass onto the counter, the sharp sound echoing through the kitchen.
Damian frowned, but Ariella turned toward him, eyes glistening, already summoning her fake tears.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered, voice trembling. "I shouldn't have used your bathroom without asking. I think... I should go."
Her tone was soft and pitiful just enough to melt any man's heart. And with her long legs and that delicate act, she always got what she wanted.
"Rhea, can't you just be nicer to your sister?" Damian finally said, unable to resist defending her.
Of course he would.
"What a fuss," Rhea said coolly, her smile faint but mocking. "This is how sisters get along. She used to fight me all the time, but today she's crying instead. Ariella bites me when she doesn't get her way,I know her best."
Ariella's crying only grew louder, but Damian looked more puzzled than sympathetic. His eyes narrowed, scanning the tension between the sisters. The moment Ariella met his gaze, she understood tears wouldn't work tonight.
"I think the conflict in the city should be your main concern, Damian," Rhea said, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. "Not two women quarreling in your living room."
She leaned back against the arm of the couch, gaze sharp. "To men, women's problems are tribal nonsense. You care more about your empire than the women you share your bed with."
Damian pulled down his tie with a sigh. "Give me a whiskey," he muttered. The line of his jaw tightened. He was tired overwhelmed, even.
Rhea made no move. She simply rolled her eyes and reached for her sparkling water instead. The sound of ice clinking in a glass came next Ariella, ever eager, poured Damian's drink like a seasoned hostess. She even knew how he liked it.
Rhea smiled to herself but said nothing. She would pretend not to see. For now.
"In the back alley bar," Damian began, gulping his drink, "we ran into the Ravenscort family. Someone fired a damn shot and then chaos. A war broke out. Most of the dead were my men. Only two of theirs."
"Why did you fight?" Ariella asked softly, before Rhea could cut in.
Rhea scoffed. "What a stupid question."
She turned to Damian. "Conflicts between Westwood and Ravenscort are as old as dust. What truly bothers you is that your people died. But now isn't the time for any of this."
"Who knows," Damian growled. "Maybe it was over a woman. Maybe it was a damn setup. But whatever it is ,this conflict can't escalate. Not while the merger's still hanging in the air."
"Why?" Ariella asked again, unsure whether to speak or retreat.
"Why? Why do you keep asking me?" Damian snapped, his tone sharp with rage. "Why don't you go upstairs and get some sleep? My wife and I need to talk in private."
Ariella froze. Her lower lip trembled. It looked like she was about to cry again.
"I won't repeat myself," he said, gesturing toward the stairs with finality.
Rhea folded her arms, watching like an indifferent bystander. Her patience, her silence sometimes she admired just how far she could stretch both.
Ariella turned and ran up barefoot. No slamming door this time. Just quiet surrender.
Damian exhaled deeply and turned back to Rhea. "You know the Titans forbade any conflict before the merger, right?"
"Of course I do," she said, voice smooth. "After everything we've done together… how could I forget the rules?"
The Titans a ruthless council of six families governing the power structure of their world. Each family obeyed the laws with militant precision. Any family that disobeyed? They were kicked out of the federation and treated like rogue Lunas rejected by their mates, hunted by their kind, and vulnerable to predators in other circles, including the government.
"Worst part," Damian muttered, slamming his glass on the table, "someone claims our man fired first. The one who fires first is always guilty. Damnit… Alexander. That snake. It has to be one of his tricks."
Rhea's heart faltered for a beat.
Alexander.
The name carried weight. His voice. His scent. The way his lips felt against her skin. Even now, memories of him touched nerves she tried to silence. Her stomach clenched instinctively.
"Rhea," Damian said sharply. "Did you even hear me? What are we going to do about this?"
She blinked, shaken out of her thoughts, and looked at him. "Yes. I heard you," she murmured.
"You should rest for now," I said. "If the federation believes it was our fault, they'll send a notice. Until then, there's nothing. Unless… there is?"
Damian shook his head. "By the time they notify us, it'll be too late. We'll be out of the bidding. I can't lose this merger not to Alexander. Not again."
Before Damian inherited the Westwoods, they'd suffered massive business losses. He came in like a storm, determined to revive the name. But his obsession with winning made him volatile, hard to manage.
Once, I was the only one who could calm him. His partner in war and in love. But now…
We're not the same.