Chloe's heels echoed through the marble hallway as she stormed into her private suite, the door slamming behind her.
She threw the pastry bag onto the floor, her sweet smile from moments ago gone—burned off by fury.
> "Little brats," she hissed, pacing. "You think you know anything? I raised you. Me. Not her."
Her reflection caught in the mirror—flawless makeup, perfectly styled blonde hair, pearls at her neck like some saint. She sneered at it.
> "You almost ruined everything, Raina," she spat. "And now you want to come back from the dead? For what—revenge?"
She yanked open her drawer, pulled out her burner phone, and dialed.
> "It's me," she said coldly. "We've got a problem."
A pause.
> "Yes, her. The dead one. She's back—and she knows something. I want eyes on her. I don't care what it costs."
Another pause.
> "No. We're not killing her. Yet."
She ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed.
Raina's words still echoed in her skull.
> "I'll tear their world apart…"
Chloe's fingers trembled. For the first time in ten years, she felt fear. Not because Raina was alive.
But because Raina wasn't the girl she once knew.
She was something else now.
Colder. Calculating.
And dangerous enough to burn down everything Chloe had built.
She poured herself a drink with shaking hands and muttered, "You want a war, Raina? You're going to get it."
She drank. The ice clinked in the glass.
> "But you're not the only woman who knows how to destroy."