Blake Family Mansion – Evelyn & Patrick's Bedroom
The soft click of the door echoed behind Evelyn as she stormed into the bedroom, her heels hitting the marble like bullets. The family dinner with Adrian and Seraphina had been a quiet disaster — for her. Every word Adrian spoke, every arrogant smirk, every glance that reeked of control made her blood boil.
She sat at the edge of the bed, fists clenched in her lap, rage twisting her features.
That bastard.
Everything — the name, the power, the legacy — it was all supposed to belong to her son… only her son, Victor. She had married into the Blake family with dignity, pride, and bloodline. She bore Patrick a son. That should have sealed her place at the top.
But no.
Instead, everything belonged to the child of some street-bred woman who had seduced her husband years ago.
She hated Adrian. But she hated the woman who gave birth to him even more.
The bathroom door opened. Patrick stepped out, towel around his neck, hair dripping.
"What's wrong with you again?" he asked, mildly irritated.
Evelyn stood sharply, her voice rising before she even realized it. "Is this how you plan to keep living? Watching your bastard son oppress my son like a king while we all serve him like fools?"
Patrick sighed and wiped his hair. "I'll do something about him."
"Do something?" she spat. "You can't even form a full sentence when you're in the same room with him! Adrian says jump and you damn near ask him how high!"
Patrick froze, face darkening.
"If you hadn't given birth to a useless boy who can't compete with Adrian, maybe we wouldn't be in this mess," he snapped.
Evelyn stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief. "My son is useless? Says the man who let his bastard child climb over his own head! You were supposed to be the next head of this family and the one to decide who would be your heir. But no — your illegitimate son took your place, and now you have the guts to insult my son?"
"Woman, shut your damn mouth," Patrick growled, voice rising.
She had struck a nerve — and she knew it.
He hated that truth more than anything. That Adrian, the reminder of his weakest mistake, had become everything he was supposed to be. The heir. The leader. The future of the Blake family.
Evelyn wasn't done. She stepped closer, jabbing a finger in his chest.
"I will not shut up until you fix this. Until my son, the legitimate heir, becomes the leader of this family. That bastard should have never been born!"
And with that, she stormed into the bathroom, still muttering under her breath — curses in every language she knew.
Patrick stood there, unmoving.
He knew what she was saying — cursing Adrian, cursing the woman who bore him. Maybe cursing him too.
He rubbed his face with both hands, suddenly exhausted.
Since the day Evelyn found out about Adrian's existence, their marriage had been nothing but tension and fire. He didn't care much for her feelings. He never had. But he knew one thing — if he was going to take Adrian down, he couldn't do it alone.
First rule of war?
Make sure your home isn't a battlefield.
And right now, even that advantage was slipping through his fingers.
He needed to do something about Adrian — and fast.
His face shone with determination.
---
Three days had passed since that night at the hotel. Three days since Raya had walked out of Leon's life without a word. And in those three days, not once had she answered his calls.
Her phone buzzed now, his name flashing across the cracked screen. She didn't even look twice. She silenced it and slipped it back into her pocket, picking up her pace as she crossed the street, weaving through traffic.
She had no time for him. No time for his games. Not anymore.
Her phone rang again. Thinking it was Leon and ready to finally give him a piece of her mind, she checked — but it was someone else.
She picked up.
"Raya!" a voice called from the phone.
"Yes?" she replied.
The caller was one of the assistant directors from a production crew she'd worked with before.
"We need a favor. The lead actress called in sick last minute. Can you stand in? It's just a short scene, a slap. We'll pay you $300 if you can be on set in twenty minutes."
Raya hesitated. She was bone-tired from cleaning offices all night. But $300? That could cover at least one week of food. Maybe even keep the collectors at bay for a few more days.
"I'll be there," she said, already changing direction.
---
The set was in chaos when she arrived — cameras being repositioned, crew members shouting instructions, the director pacing furiously.
"Thank God!" the assistant director exclaimed when he saw her. "Wardrobe! Get her ready!"
Minutes later, Raya stood under harsh studio lights, dressed in a simple blouse and skirt that weren't hers, hair pinned up to match the missing actress.
The scene was simple: a confrontation. The other sub-lead actress — tall, elegant, with sharp eyes that glinted with something more than professionalism. She was supposed to slap her. Hard.
And slap her she did. Very hard, like she was settling past scores.
The sting exploded across Raya's cheek, so hard she swayed on her feet. But she stayed in character, eyes wide with hurt — the perfect blend of shock and betrayal.
"Cut! Perfect! That's a wrap on that scene," the director called. Relief flooded the set.
The crew started murmuring praise.
"She nailed it in one take."
"Honestly, better than the main actress usually does."
"Such raw emotion…"
Raya barely noticed the whispers. Her cheek burned, her heart pounded. But she'd done it. One take. One slap. $300 earned.
The other actress glared at her, lips pressed thin. "Don't get used to this," she muttered as she walked past, her voice dripping with disdain.
Raya said nothing. She wasn't here to compete. She was here to survive.
Actually, Raya rarely wasted her time and words on things that were less of her concern.
---
Raya stepped onto the quiet sidewalk, the slap from earlier still burning faintly on her cheek. The night air was cool against her skin, but it did little to ease the heaviness in her chest. She adjusted the strap of her worn-out bag and dialed Anna — her one constant.
Anna picked up almost instantly, her voice bright despite the hour. "Raya! Finally. I've been waiting for you to call. How did it go?"
Raya let out a small laugh — tired, but genuine. "I got slapped. Hard. But they said I did well. There are still rings in my ear — it might take me three days to hear properly." She joked.
Anna's voice rose with excitement. "Funny, but you did well? Girl, someone already posted about it! A behind-the-scenes clip. I saw it like fifteen minutes ago. Although your face wasn't shown, you looked so professional — the comments were all praising the stand-in, which is you. Are you sure you're not secretly an actress?"
Raya blinked. "Someone posted about it? Are you serious?"
"Yeah! You should see the video. You made that sub-lead actress look stiff. No offense, but she looked like she wanted to kill you for outshining her." Anna laughed softly. Raya could almost see her, probably still at her work desk, tablet pen in hand, sketches spread around her.
Raya smiled despite herself. "She did glare at me afterward."
"I bet. She can deal. Anyway, I'm drowning in deadlines — I got commissioned by that big studio I told you about! They want character designs for their next anime. Super hush-hush project. But when I saw your clip, I had to take a break."
Raya's heart warmed. "You always make time for me. Thank you, babe."
"Of course I do. You're my girl. And please tell me Leon hasn't called you again."
Raya hesitated. "He did… but I didn't pick up. Just kept ignoring him."
Anna exhaled, a mixture of relief and frustration. "Good. Let him rot. And next time he calls again, block his number. You deserve better."
"I know," Raya said softly.
Anna's tone gentled. "One of these days, you'll believe it. Hey — if you change your mind, my offer still stands. I've got space. Come stay with me. At least think about it, okay?"
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Anna chuckled. "All right. Go get some rest, superstar. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Anna. And… congrats again. I'm proud of you."
"Same here, babe. Same here." And she hung up the call.
Anna was the best friend anyone could ask for, and Raya was grateful to have her.
Her phone buzzed again. Unknown number.