It will began with just a photo.
Serena sipped her espresso in the boutique's office, half-listening as the front desk phone rang. Her eyes were fixed on the screen — a paused moment from years ago, Clara wrapped in the arms of a much older man. A man who wasn't Aaron. A man with a reputation, married, with a net worth Serena could quote without blinking.
The hotel watermark was faint in the corner. The timestamp was clear. So was the look on Clara's face — flushed, laughing, drunk on something far more dangerous than champagne.
Serena smiled coldly and hit upload.
She didn't post it on her own account. That would be foolish.
Instead, the image dropped anonymously on a trending gossip page — one that loved drama more than truth. No names, no captions. Just enough to stir the pot.
And stir it did.
By lunchtime, the whispers had begun.
Clara Langford — that perfect smile, that model daughter, the alumni board's darling — was trending.
By dinner, Evelyn had called her twice. Serena didn't answer.
Clara stormed through the university courtyard the next morning, sunglasses on, heels too sharp for the concrete. Her phone was buzzing nonstop, and each ping sent her deeper into a simmering rage.
Where had that photo come from? Who still had it? How the hell had it surfaced now?
And why, why, did she feel Serena's fingerprints all over it?
She found Aaron near the admin building, talking to a student advisor. When he saw her, he blinked — surprised, but not necessarily pleased.
"Aaron," she said, catching his arm.
He raised an eyebrow. "Clara."
"We need to talk. In private."
He looked hesitant, but nodded. They found an empty classroom.
As soon as the door shut, Clara turned to him, dropping the mask. "You've seen it, haven't you?"
Aaron crossed his arms. "The photo?"
Clara swallowed. "It was years ago. I was young, stupid. He lied about being separated. It meant nothing."
Aaron didn't speak. The silence stretched until it hurt.
"I was grieving my mom," Clara added, voice cracking perfectly. "I made mistakes."
Aaron's expression was unreadable. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I care what you think!" she said, stepping closer. "I know things got messy. But we used to be close, Aaron. We had something real."
He shook his head slowly. "We were never together, Clara."
She froze.
"You keep talking like we were, but… we weren't."
"Yes, we were," she insisted. "Maybe not officially, but you felt it. You wanted me."
He exhaled. "I was nineteen. I didn't know what I wanted."
"And now?" she asked, voice soft.
Aaron paused. "Now… I think I've changed."
The words weren't cruel, but they landed like a slap.
Clara stepped back, her voice trembling now with real anger. "Is it because of her?"
Aaron didn't answer.
"That girl's playing you, Aaron! You don't know her like I do. She's manipulative. Obsessive. She doesn't care about you."
"She's been honest," he replied quietly. "More honest than anyone else in my life."
Clara's nails dug into her palms. "You'll regret this."
"I'll take my chances."
Meanwhile, Serena watched everything unfold from her boutique, calmly flipping through fabric samples while her phone lit up with notifications.
The photo had done its job.
But this wasn't about scandals.
It was about control.
Clara was losing hers. Rapidly.
Serena's fingers brushed over another image in her folder — an email chain from Clara's internship days, laced with blackmail and backstabbing. That would be next. Not today.
But soon.
The front bell jingled, pulling her attention. She looked up to find Evelyn standing in the doorway again, arms crossed.
"You're making a mess," Evelyn said.
Serena rose, folding her hands neatly. "I'm cleaning one up."
"Clara's reputation is cracking, and everyone thinks it's just random bad luck. But I know you."
"Then you know I don't do random."
Evelyn stepped closer. "You're burning bridges, Serena. And one day, there won't be anything left."
"Good," Serena said. "Then no one will follow."
That night, rain lashed against the windows of her apartment. Serena stood by the glass again, watching the city below shimmer under the storm.
"You move like a queen on a board of pawns."
She didn't turn. "You..you will always watching me?"
Ellion materialized beside her, raindrops falling through his translucent form before he took full shape — barefoot, casual, as though he'd wandered out of a dream.
"Only when it gets interesting." His eyes glinted. "And baby, you're very interesting tonight."
Serena folded her arms. "She tried to win him back. She used every trick in the book."
"Let me guess — crocodile tears, shared memories, proximity touches, the 'we had something' speech?"
Serena gave a dry laugh. "You know her well."
"I know the type. All pageant smile and poison tongue."
He leaned closer, whispering, "But you? You're different."
"I'm worse," she said.
"You're better," Ellion corrected. "You don't pretend you're not dangerous."
She turned to face him. "Why…are you really here?"
Ellion shrugged. "Because you're pulling strings in this world that are… connected to mine. And if you keep pulling, eventually, you'll unravel something bigger than Clara Langford."
"Then maybe she's just the beginning."
He grinned. "Now that's a woman after my own heart."
For a moment, the storm outside grew louder — thunder rolling like a warning.
Then Ellion took a step back, and his voice turned low, teasing.
"When the final piece falls, Serena… I'll be there. At your side. Or in your way."
"Why not both?" she asked, arching a brow.
"HAHAHAHAH"
Ellion laughed — rich, amused, dangerous.
And then he vanished, again, like smoke curling through the cracks in her walls.
Serena didn't move for a long time.
She had work to do.
And tomorrow, she'd deliver the next blow.