[Daniel’s Office]
"How co I wasn’t inford that Anna was locked in the restroom and almost missed her audition?"
Daniel’s voice cracked through the room like a whip, cold and sharp.
Henry flinched, his heart lurching. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, at a loss for words. He’d only just learned the details himself—but the fury simring in his boss’s eyes made any excuse feel like a death wish. A bead of sweat slid down his temple.
Daniel’s jaw tightened, his grip on the edge of the desk white-knuckled. He could barely hear Henry’s uneven breathing over the roar in his own ears.
Those sa girls—Jane and Mary—who had attacked Anna outside the studio this morning... they were the very ones who had tried to stop her from even auditioning.
The thought made his blood turn to ice.
"I want those girls handled," he said finally, his voice low and lethal, each word cut with steel. "I don’t care how. They will not be spared after what they did."
Henry swallowed hard and nodded, wisely keeping silent. He understood exactly what handled ant when it ca from Daniel Clafford. Without another word, he excused himself, leaving the office door to click shut behind him.
The silence that followed only made the rage inside Daniel burn hotter.
He paced once, twice, before bracing both palms against the window ledge. His reflection glared back at him—a man used to control, now feeling it slip through his fingers.
’Why do I feel like I can’t breathe?’
Images rushed in unbidden: Anna standing frozen during the table read, her voice trembling; the way she always insisted on keeping doors or windows cracked open; the quiet flinch when soone ca too close.
Suddenly, all those small habits snapped together into a brutal clarity.
Claustrophobia.
She’s been silently fighting this all along... and I never noticed.
A slow, crushing weight settled in his chest. He had teased her, challenged her, cornered her—even locked horns with her for his own amusent—while she carried this invisible battle every single day.
"No wonder she wants to get out of my life," he whispered, the words tasting like ash.
He should be indifferent. This marriage was a ans to an end, nothing more. Norma’s warning replayed in his mind like a knife’s edge: Don’t get attached. Don’t lose sight of the plan.
And yet—
The mory of Anna’s wide, panicked eyes at the table read gutted him in a way he hadn’t expected. The thought of her suffering—alone, unheard—scraped sothing raw inside him.
He dragged a hand over his face, trying to wrestle his emotions back into the steel cage where they belonged.
’You can’t afford this distraction.’
But the truth sat heavy and undeniable. He couldn’t simply let her go. Not now. Not when he finally saw her—really saw her—for who she was beneath the quiet defiance and the stubborn walls.
Daniel exhaled slowly, his gaze hardening on the city skyline.
Whatever this was—this pull, this need—it was no longer sothing he could ignore.
***
[Clafford Mansion]
Kira paused mid–wipe, the damp cloth twisting in her fist until her knuckles blanched. The morning’s phone call replayed in her head like an eerie echo, each word sinking deeper into her bones.
That old woman’s voice...
It had been so sharp, so commanding, that Kira hadn’t even dared to breathe, let alone refuse.
"Aunt Norma," she whispered under her breath, the na alone sending a ripple of unease through her. Daniel’s aunt.
But unease quickly lted into curiosity. Why had Norma—of all people—sought her out? Why did she want regular updates about what was happening inside the Clafford mansion?
Kira’s brows knit for a heartbeat... and then her lips curved slowly, slyly.
"Could it be... even she doesn’t like that Anna?"
The thought blood like a dark flower. Norma’s clipped, icy tone ca back to her—so cold whenever she ntioned Anna and Daniel together. And the way she had instructed Kira to keep a particular eye on Anna...
"Oh, this is perfect," Kira murmured, her grin widening as a thrill of excitent chased away the last of her earlier fear.
If Daniel’s own aunt disapproved of his wife, that ant Kira wasn’t the only one waiting for Anna to be cast out.
And if Anna was gone...
Kira’s gaze drifted toward the grand staircase, her smile turning almost dreamy. "Once Anna is out of Master’s life," she whispered, voice soft as silk, "it’ll be my turn. Slowly... carefully... I’ll make my way in."
She smoothed the cloth across the banister, the polished wood gleaming under her touch like a promise.
In the quiet of the mansion, her secret smile lingered—an unspoken celebration of a victory that, in her mind, was already halfway won.
"Kira! If you’re done out there, co help in the kitchen," Mariam’s voice cut clean through her haze of plotting, sharp enough to make her jolt.
The sly smile vanished from Kira’s lips in an instant. She blinked, forcing her features back into sothing neutral before Mariam could step into view.
"Yes, Aunt Mariam—coming," she called, her voice pitched a touch too bright.
She gave the polished banister one last, lingering stroke like sealing a private vow, then quickly straightened her apron. By the ti she stepped into the kitchen doorway, her face carried nothing but the usual obedient calm.
"Here I am," Kira said, slipping back into the role of the dutiful niece as though the dark thoughts a mont ago had never existed.
"Oh—help wash those vegetables and chop them into dium pieces," Mariam said the mont Kira stepped into the kitchen.
Kira set her jaw and nodded quickly, rolling up her sleeves as she moved to the sink. The sound of running water filled the silence until she spoke, her voice soft but edged with sothing almost rehearsed.
"Aunt Mariam... I know I disappointed you."
Mariam paused mid–stir, her back still to her niece.
"But I want to apologize to Madam Anna for my behavior that day," Kira continued, tone smooth and carefully asured.
Mariam turned, brows knitting. "You... want to apologize to Madam?"
"Yes," Kira said firmly, eting her aunt’s eyes. "I was wrong. I’d like to tell her so myself."
For a mont, Mariam simply studied her. This sudden contrition didn’t sit right. Kira was many things—quick-tempered, prideful—but rarely quick to repent.
’What’s gotten into her now?’ Mariam wondered, suspicion flickering behind her gaze.
"That won’t be necessary," she said at last, her voice firm. "I already apologized on your behalf. The matter is settled."
Kira’s face fell at the swift rejection. For a heartbeat her eyes flashed—sharp, cold—but she lowered them just as quickly, hiding the spark behind a mask of ek disappointnt.
’This old hag,’ she fud inwardly. ’Always standing in my way.’
"Now don’t brood," Mariam added, turning back to the stove. "Finish what I asked you to do."
Kira swallowed her frustration, forcing her lips into a thin, obedient smile as she reached for the knife. Inside, though, her anger simred like a pot left too long on the fla.
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