Alisa Meng had been raised to hide her emotions behind a perfect smile.
Her father always said, "The true power of the Meng family lies not in wealth, but in control."
And control was what Alisa prided herself on—control over her words, her looks, her reputation.
But that control cracked the moment Joanna whispered the name Scarlett Rose.
"What did you just say?" Alisa's voice was soft, almost gentle. She set her teacup down, her manicured nails glinting under the chandelier light.
Joanna swallowed nervously. "I–I said Nicolas stopped me. I was about to make her fall at the café, but he caught my wrist before I could—"
Alisa's lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes didn't match it. They were cold.
"So… Nicolas stopped you."
Joanna nodded quickly. "I didn't know he was there. He just—appeared. Everyone saw."
Alisa leaned back in her velvet chair, crossing her legs elegantly. Her silk gown shimmered in the golden light, her beauty ethereal. To anyone else, she looked calm, composed. But the air around her was sharp—like glass ready to shatter.
"I see," she said finally, tracing the rim of her cup. "He stopped you in front of everyone."
Joanna could feel the pressure rising, like the calm before a storm.
Then Alisa smiled — the kind of smile that could freeze a room.
"How… interesting. The man who never spares a glance for anyone suddenly decides to play a hero. For her."
She stood gracefully, walking toward the window that overlooked the Meng estate gardens.
Her reflection in the glass was flawless — beauty, poise, and wealth all wrapped into one perfect woman.
But behind that reflection, her heart burned with jealousy.
Scarlett Rose.
A name that suddenly felt like poison on her tongue.
"What does she have," Alisa murmured, "that makes him look at her even once?"
Joanna hesitated. "She's… nothing special. Just confident. Too confident."
Alisa turned, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Confidence is dangerous, Joanna. It makes ordinary women look unforgettable."
Her voice softened again. "That's why we'll have to teach her where she belongs."
Joanna nodded quickly. "I'll do whatever you say."
Alisa smiled faintly, reaching for her wine glass. "Good. I'll handle the professors. You'll handle the gossip."
Joanna blinked. "Professors?"
"Yes." Alisa's tone was calm, almost casual. "We'll make it seem like Scarlett plagiarized her last project. I know someone who can… alter records. A small scandal will ruin her spotless image. And Nicolas hates women with dirty reputations."
Joanna's lips parted. "That's—risky."
Alisa's expression turned slightly cold. "Everything worth winning requires risk, darling. And Nicolas Volkov is worth everything."
She turned back to the window, eyes distant, lost in her thoughts.
Her mind replayed that night — Nicolas in his black tuxedo, his hand catching another woman's wrist, not hers.
The way his eyes softened for a stranger when they'd never softened for her.
It made her blood boil, but she wouldn't show it. She refused to lose her composure over someone like Scarlett.
No, she would destroy her beautifully — elegantly — until not even ashes of her pride remained.
---
Later that night, far across the city, Nicolas Volkov sat in his private study, scrolling through his tablet when a quiet knock sounded on the door.
"Come in," he said, his deep voice steady.
His assistant, Matteo, stepped in. "Sir, we've been monitoring Miss Meng's movements as you requested. She met with a student named Joanna this evening."
Nicolas didn't look up. "And?"
"They're planning something about Miss Rose. Something… unethical."
For a moment, silence filled the room. Only the faint ticking of the clock echoed.
Then Nicolas leaned back, his jaw tightening slightly.
"Let them think I don't see," he said quietly. "But if they touch her again—"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.
Matteo bowed slightly. "Understood, sir."
As the door closed, Nicolas exhaled softly and glanced out the window at the moonlit city.
He shouldn't care.
He shouldn't even remember her name.
But somehow, the thought of Scarlett Rose being hurt made something unfamiliar twist in his chest.
"Scarlett…" he murmured under his breath, the name tasting strange and familiar all at once.
Somewhere deep inside, buried beneath the lies, the accidents, and the shadows of his past—
something in him remembered her.