The sky had turned gloomy, dark rain clouds cloaking it—just like the mood in the room.
Ariel felt sweat pooling in her palms as she stared at Raymond's back, his silhouette framed by the window. The tension was thick, suffocating. And it could only mean one thing.
He found out.
Ariel wanted to speak, to ease the tension. But no words came. It was as if her voice box had lost all function. So she stayed silent, hoping the storm would pass.
The silence stretched endlessly until—
"What have you got to say for yourself?"
Ariel looked at Raymond's back and sighed.
"I'm sorry. But I had to do it. I had no choice."
"But you had a choice!" Raymond shouted, spinning around to face her.
"You. Had. A. Choice, Ariel. You could've accessed that box easily once you became queen! Or at least waited until you began participating in the bridal selection or..." He paused.
"You could've told me. I could've helped you!"
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and exhaled sharply.
"But no. You wanted to do this alone. You wanted to be the lone wolf on a dangerous quest. The lone avenger. The mighty vulture that feasts on an elephant—alone! Without thinking about the hyenas lurking in the shadows, ready to tear it apart and devour the elephant's corpse and the vulture with it!"
"Okay! Okay! I get it!" Ariel shouted.
"I get it, okay." She sighed, blinking back tears.
"I was foolish to do it. Yes, I admit it—I was wrong. But I wouldn't have done it if you had... at least paid attention to my mission. To my objectives. You're not the only one who wants revenge in this life! I want it too. I want to see my enemies lying before me, lifeless in their own pools of blood. I want to see them writhing in pain as it oozes from their pathetic bodies—slowly, agonizingly. That's what I want too."
She paused, her voice trembling.
"But no... the only thing you think about is making me your perfect queen. A queen for your revenge—not mine."
Raymond opened his mouth to protest, but Ariel cut him off.
"No! Don't you dare try to bullshit me by saying you're doing this for me. Because I know you're not. If you were, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now!"
She exhaled shakily.
"I'm tired of being seen as weak, vulnerable, a pretender... a rabbit in a lion's skin."
She stepped closer, her voice low but resolute.
"I'm sorry if you thought I'd remain dependent on you for everything. But I'm not that kind of girl. I will become Queen. I will get my revenge. I will destroy my enemies. But I won't be controlled by you. My game. My plan. My life. My rules. Got that?"
She held his gaze.
"So please... don't try to intervene. I'll help you with your revenge on my terms. But don't pressure me. Otherwise, things will take a turn neither of us wants. And I don't want that for us."
She wiped away a tear that had slipped down her cheek and sighed.
"I need to rest. I'll see you later. Excuse me."
And with that, she turned and walked out of the room.
Raymond stood still, watching as Ariel disappeared through the door. A small smile crept onto his lips as his mind drifted back to his conversation with Alicia at the palace.
---
Flashback
At the palace earlier...
"How does it feel?"
Raymond glanced at Alicia, who was eyeing the two young ones they'd left at the gazebo, conversing through the window.
"Pardon?" he replied. "I don't quite understand."
Alicia turned to face him.
"Oh, don't play dumb with me, Ray. You've been my best friend for over twenty-five years. I know who you are—and I know when you're scheming something."
She picked up a glass of whiskey and took a seat opposite Raymond. After a sip, she continued.
"I also know that you and Elizabeth never had a child—especially not a daughter that age. And she doesn't resemble Elizabeth at all. So what's the story behind this charade? I really want to know..."
Raymond sighed, set his glass on the table, crossed one leg over the other, and clasped his hands atop his knee, sitting upright.
"I don't think I need to explain myself to you, Alicia. Besides, you already know who she is. If you didn't, we wouldn't be here—sitting in this room, having this conversation. With me, yes, we could've done this. But she wouldn't have come here with me. After all, a daughter of a lowly duke isn't allowed to compete in the bridal selection for Queen—much less be invited to brunch with the Crown Prince himself. That's considered taboo, isn't it? Like a little star daring to shine in the presence of the sun."
Alicia shook her head.
"No wonder we were best friends. We're both witty little weasels, aren't we?"
She sipped her drink.
Raymond chuckled.
"The best of the best. No doubt about it." He leaned back in his seat.
"Mmm... indeed. But the only question swirling in my mind is—how? How did she survive? A death by a thousand cuts isn't just a bruise that heals in a day. So how did she survive?"
"I don't know either. And frankly, I don't want to know. What matters is that she's alive and well. And she's my daughter. I may never have had one before—but I have one now. And I'll do everything in my power to protect her." He paused.
"Even from you."
Alicia scoffed.
"Oh please, Ray. You know I'm not a bad person. I'm not even scary—well, only when I want to be. Besides, that girl is special. She's unique. I can feel it. She's the perfect match for Daniel. I was impressed by the way she stared him down without fear. Anyone else would've cowered. Even Reginald is afraid of his own son. Hmph!"
She leaned closer.
"And that's why I need her, Raymond. I need her strength, her boldness, her fearlessness. I need her fire. I've already seen it—she's not someone to be messed with. And you won't be able to keep your reins on her for long. That's exactly what I'm looking for. That's what I need to wipe out the venomous snakes in this kingdom and restore balance. And I need your help, Raymond."
Raymond studied her. Despite her age, Alicia still looked beautiful. In that moment, he could picture her in her youth—vibrant, cunning, courageous, and brilliant. She reminded him of Ariel in many ways. But he was wary. If he involved Alicia too soon, she might catch on to his plans—and ruin them. Worse, it could put her in danger.
He shook his head and sighed.
"I'm sorry, Alicia. It's too risky. Ariel was raised delicately. Involving her in something so crude could destroy what vulnerability she has left. I won't give her to the wolves again. Not after everything she's been through. So—no. I'm sorry."
He stood.
"Thank you for the lovely brunch. I truly had a... nice time. But I'm afraid I must take my leave now. Have a good day, Your Majesty."
He bowed slightly and turned to leave.
"Someone broke into the royal archives..."
Raymond froze.
"On the night of the masquerade ball..."
She took another sip, letting the silence stretch.
"And it just so happens... the only guest missing from the party was your... dear... sweet... daughter, Ariel. What a coincidence, right?"
Raymond slowly turned to face her.
Alicia continued sipping her whiskey, unfazed. It was a statement laced with threat. Even if Ariel hadn't broken into the archives, Alicia would use her absence to pin the blame—putting her in serious danger.
Raymond smiled to himself.
'Very cunning, Alicia. Very well played.'
Alicia sighed.
"The bridal selection begins in seven days. I expect to see Ariel the day before. She'll be staying with us at the palace, while the other women will be at the Royal Villa. Sharing the same space will help them bond faster, don't you think? I'll see you then. Have a nice day, Raymond."
---
Present...
Raymond smiled as he looked at the door Ariel had just walked through.
"I can't wait for the snow-fire to fall. Those two will really make it rain. And I cannot wait for the chaos..."
His smile widened.
Just then, thunder rumbled in the sky.
...
Somewhere...
Rumble. Rumble.
Thunder growled and lightning flashed like jagged blades across the sky. Rain poured in furious torrents, drenching the ground in its wrath.
In the distance, city lights shimmered through the downpour. The sound of honking horns and angry shouts filled the air as a long line of traffic stretched for miles, snaking out of the congested city center toward the suburbs.
Beep! Beep!
"Oh, come on, you son of a bitch—move!"
Beep!
A man in a grey overcoat with slick black hair slammed his hand on the horn, glaring at the car in front of him. Impatient and agitated, he revved his engine and darted forward the moment a gap appeared, weaving through traffic like a man possessed—ignoring the curses and shouts trailing behind him.
Once he broke free from the congestion and hit the open road, he accelerated like he was being chased by ghosts.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID and picked up.
"What!"
"Yeah, I'm on my way!"
"Don't worry—the goods are safe. Just tell Giby to get the plane running. I'll be there in a sec."
He ended the call and sped through the rain-slicked streets.
After a short while, a small airplane hangar came into view. He veered off onto a dirt road, tires skidding through the mud.
He burst through the gate, screeched to a stop, and jumped out of the car. He yanked open the backseat, grabbed two briefcases and a small carrier bag, and sprinted toward the hangar, where the roar of a plane engine echoed through the space.
A small aircraft was preparing for takeoff. Without hesitation, he climbed aboard, tossed his bags onto a seat, and slammed the hatch shut.
"I'm here, Giby! Let's get this son of a bitch in the air and get out of here. I cannot wait for my vacation in Comorros. Come on, let's go!" he shouted.
The plane began to taxi and, despite the heavy rain, lifted off into the stormy sky.
After flying for a while, the man settled into his seat, relaxing—almost enjoying the thrill of the dangerous flight. But then, the plane's speed began to drop.
Startled by the sudden deceleration, he looked out the window and realized they were flying over open ocean.
"Hey! Giby! What the hell is going on? What happened to the speed? Have you forgotten we need to be out of here pronto?" he shouted.
No reply.
A chill crept down his spine.
Something was wrong.
He tried to rise from his seat, to storm into the cockpit—but his body wouldn't respond. His limbs felt heavy. Numb. He tried again, but nothing moved.
It was as if his brain had detached from his nervous system. As if his body no longer belonged to him.
Just then, the cockpit door creaked open.
A man stepped out—dressed in a black jacket and jeans, his head covered by a thick balaclava. Only his dark brown eyes glimmered in the flashes of lightning.
"Who... who are you?" the man stuck in the seat stammered.
The masked man didn't reply. He simply sat down across from him, staring intently.
"Who... who are you, you son of a bitch? And what the hell have you done to Giby?" the restrained man asked, his tongue heavy and sluggish.
"You're still speaking," the man in the balaclava said, his voice distorted through a voice modulator.
"Good. That means I can still get my answers before you're out cold."
The man in the seat breathed heavily.
"No... fucking way... you... son of a... bitch. I'm... not going to say... anything to you."
The masked man smiled behind the fabric and placed a photograph on the table.
The restrained man turned his head with effort. His eyes widened the moment he saw the image.
It was him, naked and enjoying his time with his head between that rich noble woman's legs. What noble woman. The bitch was a slut he had been laying on for years before she got married into upper nobility after her husband mysteriously disappeared.
He'd been blackmailing her for money ever since. But he'd gotten involved with the wrong people, and now they were after his life. The briefcases held his savings—everything she'd paid him. He was planning to disappear, enjoy himself, and come back later to milk her for more again.
The man in the balaclava saw the recognition in his eyes. He smiled, then stood and walked toward the briefcases.
The restrained man squirmed in fury.
"You... son of a bitch! Get... away from my goods! I'll kill... you!"
The masked man opened the first briefcase. His eyes widened.
Inside, blue diamond roses glimmered like stars. Beneath them—stacks of cash.
The second briefcase held more cash, documents, and an envelope stuffed with photographs.
The man smiled brightly beneath his mask.
"You... son of a... bitch...! I'll kill you... get away from my stuff!" the restrained man growled, struggling against the paralysis.
The masked man turned to face him.
"You know... there's a word I love to say to scumbags like you... before they die."
The man in the seat froze, sweat pouring down his face—equal parts drug-induced and pure fear.
The masked man knelt beside him and whispered:
"Touché."
BOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the plane.
"Aaaah!" the restrained man screamed as the floor beneath him shifted—then gave way.
He screamed as his body, still strapped to the seat, tumbled through the air. Lightning danced around him like a theatrical light show, illuminating him as if he were performing a final act on nature's stage.
The man in the balaclava watched as the body twisted and spun in the wind. He smiled slightly, then grabbed the briefcases and dove out of the plane after him.
As he cruised through the stormy sky—
Boom!
The plane above exploded into a thousand flaming shards.
He spun, twisted, and glided like a professional skydiver, cutting through the air toward the tumbling seat.
As soon as he caught up, he planted his feet on the frame and pressed a button. A massive parachute deployed, snapping open with a thunderous crack.
He guided the chute toward a sleek boat cruising below on the ocean's surface.
With practiced precision, he lowered the parachute until they landed softly on the deck. He detached the chute and unbuckled the unconscious man.
"Is he still alive?"
The man in the balaclava looked up to see a woman approaching—wearing a shawl over a bikini, her tone casual, almost bored.
"The scumbag just fainted from shock. He'll wake up soon enough."
The woman hummed in response and turned, disappearing back into the cabin.
He opened a hatch near the deck, rolled the man's limp body inside, and sealed it shut.
Then he picked up the briefcases and walked into the cabin.
He peeled off his jacket and shirt, revealing a lean, muscular physique. Six-pack abs rippled across his torso and back, and an eagle tattoo stretched across his shoulder blades.
He pulled off the balaclava, revealing tousled brown hair, a sharp nose, and plush lips.
He reached for the waistband of his jeans—then suddenly froze.
He sighed.
"I thought we agreed—no funny business on this trip. Otherwise, you'll find yourself getting thrown overboard."
He grabbed his jacket and shirt and tossed them into the cabin closet.
Then he turned—to face the woman now sprawled naked on the bed, watching him.
"I thought I made myself clear."
The woman chuckled.
"Oh, come on, Ricky."
She slinked toward him and whispered,
"A great man like you deserves a great reward. Besides, I have more to offer you than Bailey ever could. A woman has more to offer than a man."
Her fingers traced his torso, trailing down to his V-line.
"And I can make sure you're truly satisfied... mmm." She bit her lip seductively.
She reached for the button of his jeans—but his hand caught hers, firm and unyielding. She looked up, startled, meeting Ricky's intense gaze.
"I said—no funny business. Unless you want to be thrown overboard. Now get dressed and get out of my cabin. Or else."
He released her hand.
The woman huffed in disappointment.
"You're going to regret this. Your infatuation with Bailey will break you one day. Mark my words."
She grabbed a robe, slipped it on, and stormed out—slamming the door behind her.
Ricky exhaled and picked up his phone, dialing a number.
"Hello."
A sweet, melodious voice answered on the other end.
Ricky didn't respond immediately. The person had forgotten to put the voice modulator. He let the sound of her voice wash over him, sink into his mind, etch itself into his heart.
"I got him," he said at last.
"Okay, good. I'll see you when you see me," the voice replied before ending the call.
Ricky let the silence linger, his thoughts drifting back to the woman's parting words:
"I have more to offer you than Bailey."
He snorted.
"If only you knew."
Then he tossed the phone onto the bed.
Outside, the storm was fading into the horizon. He grabbed a towel and headed into the cabin's bathroom.