At 6:59 PM, the doorbell rang.
Daniel stood in the living room in a freshly pressed dress shirt, already sweating.
"Please," he whispered to the empty room. "Just… be nice."
Elena walked out of the kitchen.
She wasn't wearing an apron.
She was wearing a midnight-blue cocktail dress that fit her like royalty—elegant, modest, and unmistakably commanding. Her red lipstick was flawless.
War paint.
"Relax, darling," Elena said, straightening Daniel's collar with a possessive touch. "I'm always nice."
She opened the door.
Agent Vix stood on the porch like a runway assassin. White trench coat. Black body-hugging dress. Stilettos sharp enough to double as weapons. A bottle of wine in her hand.
"You must be Elena," Vix said, scanning her in a single, dismissive sweep.
"And you must be Victoria," Elena replied with a dazzling smile. "Daniel's told me so much about you."
Lie.
"He said you were… persistent."
Vix blinked.
Just for a second.
Then she stepped inside without waiting to be invited, trailing expensive perfume through the house.
"Daniel and I go way back," Vix said smoothly. "Lots of late nights. Studying."
Elena closed the door behind her.
Strike one.
Vix walked straight to Daniel and kissed his cheek—too close to the corner of his mouth.
"You look exhausted," Vix purred. "Suburban life getting to you?"
Daniel stiffened.
"This is my wife, Elena."
"Charmed," Vix said lazily, handing Elena the wine. "It's a '96 Cabernet. Probably a bit… complex for a casual palate."
Strike two.
Elena examined the cork, not the label.
"Oh, lovely. I use this brand for cooking. Makes an excellent reduction for pot roast."
Vix's eye twitched.
"That bottle costs three hundred dollars."
"Does it?" Elena said sweetly. "Well, I'm sure the sauce will be divine."
She turned to Daniel.
"Why don't you pour our guest a drink? I'll finish in the kitchen."
"I'll help," Vix said instantly, slipping off her coat and heading after her.
Daniel closed his eyes.
THE KITCHEN
The kitchen gleamed. Every surface spotless.
Elena picked up her Santoku knife.
"So," Vix said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. "Daniel tells me you run a coffee shop. How… quaint."
Elena sliced a carrot clean in half.
"Working with my hands keeps me grounded."
"I bet," Vix smirked. "Daniel used to be ambitious. Before he settled down."
Thwack.
"We talked about traveling. Doing important work."
Thwack.
"Daniel is important to me," Elena replied calmly.
Vix picked up a piece of celery from the cutting board.
"Some men need excitement," she said. "Danger. A partner who can keep up."
She looked Elena straight in the eyes.
"Do you really know him, sweetie? Or just the version he shows you?"
Silence.
Elena turned slowly, knife loose in her hand.
"I know he sleeps on his left side," Elena said softly.
"I know how he takes his steak."
One step closer.
"And I know he doesn't like it when people touch his things."
Vix's fingers twitched toward her hidden holster.
Elena raised the knife—
—and calmly speared an olive from the bowl behind Vix.
She ate it off the blade.
"Just a hostess tip," Elena smiled. "That celery hasn't been washed."
She turned back.
THWACK.
The radish split cleanly in half.
Daniel entered with three glasses of wine, pale as a ghost.
"Everything okay?"
"Perfect," Elena said brightly. "Victoria was just telling me how much she worries about your… excitement."
Elena kissed Daniel.
Slow. Possessive. Deliberate.
Red lipstick marked him like a claim.
"Dinner's almost ready," Elena said to Vix, eyes cold.
"I hope you like it bloody."
End of Chapter 17Author Note
Elena didn't raise her voice.
She didn't break a sweat.
She didn't need to.
Round one goes to the Queen.
Next Chapter: The Apple Scene
The tension moves to the dinner table—and Vix pushes too far.