"Pfft!! What do you mean the chest is not at the Royal Archives!" Leticia yelled.
She had been lounging by the pool at the Sinclair mansion in Florence, basking in the morning sun in a tiny pink bikini, cocktail in hand.
But the words on the phone made her choke. She spat out her drink and hurled the glass to the ground.
"Then where the fuck is it!" she roared.
"Find it! Find it now! Or else all our plans will be ruined! Grrr!!"
With a furious motion, she flung the phone into the pool.
"Damn it! Damn it all!" she screamed, her voice echoing across the courtyard.
"Bad morning."
A husky voice drifted from behind her.
She turned to see Aaron walking toward her in a light blue t-shirt, gym pants, and sneakers. He was clearly fresh from the gym, sweat clinging to his shirt like a second skin. She loved how it outlined his muscles, each line sculpted and defined. Even though Aaron was barbaric at times—and a notorious man-whore—he was still achingly good-looking. That turned her on... and annoyed her at the same time.
Aaron stopped a short distance away, smirking.
"What happened to 'having things under control,' huh? Did the ship already sink before it even set sail?" he mocked.
"Oh, don't bullshit me, Aaron. I don't have time for your nonsense. Instead of mocking me, you should be helping me figure out where that damn chest is!" Leticia snapped.
Aaron scoffed, folding his arms across his torso.
"And why should I? You clearly kicked me off the team."
Leticia snorted, closing the distance until she stood just inches from him.
"Because, darling..." she purred, tracing her fingers along his folded arms seductively.
"Your future—our future—depends on it. That chest holds the key to unending wealth and also..." Her fingers slid up to his shoulders, then to the back of his neck. She pulled his head down until their noses touched.
"...world domination. Have you forgotten about that?"
Aaron unfolded his arms and seized her waist, pulling her against him until their bodies pressed together.
"No... I haven't forgotten. Not for a single moment." His hand gripped her possessively, making Leticia hiss as pleasure built, her body grinding against his.
He whispered against her lips.
"But I'd rather rule the world alone than sail on a sinking ship full of crazy, cynical, petty, controlling bitches—bound to die whether they abandon ship or not."
Leticia smiled coldly.
"So... you'd rather be with a weak, meek little bitch loser like Anastasia? Someone you could control like a puppet—enslaved to your will, fulfilling your pathetic desires?"
Aaron smirked but said nothing.
Leticia's smile widened. She grinded against him once more, brushing her lips lightly against his.
"Well... too bad," she whispered.
"I am not that bitch!"
With a sudden motion, she grabbed a fistful of his hair, tripped him, and shoved him into the pool.
Aaron barely had time to react before he plunged into the water.
"Aaaah!!" he screamed as he splashed under.
"Hugh!!" Aaron gasped for air as he broke the surface, glaring at her with fury.
"Refreshed?" Leticia asked coolly.
Aaron didn't reply—he just kept glaring.
"I hope that nice, cooling water refreshed your mind too. So next time you think about bullshitting me, you'll remember..."
She stepped closer to the pool, her voice low and commanding.
"...that I am the captain of this ship. No one tells me how to run it. I'm the only one who can get you to your destination. If we sink, we sink together. If we abandon ship, we abandon ship together. Without me, you won't go anywhere or do anything. So be good to me, Papi—and maybe I'll teach you to steer the ship... or save your ass when it's sinking."
She turned to leave, tossing one last remark over her shoulder.
"Go take an actual bath. You stink."
Her heels clicked against the stone as she walked away, the sway of her tiny bikini stirring something inside Aaron—something he refused to give in to.
He growled, climbing out of the pool, water dripping from his body.
Just as he emerged, a man in a black suit and dark shades approached.
He bowed slightly in greeting.
"What did you find?" Aaron asked.
"His name is Bailey—the mailman. He was the one who attacked the Greyhounds and stole the Blue Diamond Roses. I haven't uncovered much about him yet, but I found intel that could help us track even more diamonds in the abyss," the man replied.
Aaron nodded slowly.
"Mmm... that's good. Make sure you do this discreetly. No one else must find out. And while you're at it, try to discover who has possession of the chest with the Sinclair records. Tell me first—before you tell the Scorpion King."
The man stiffened.
"You're asking for trouble, Aaron. Remember—the Scorpion King invited you into the cause because he saw your potential to rise to power. That's why he helped you get rid of Sinclair in the first place."
Aaron's jaw tightened, his body stiffening at the reminder.
The man exhaled.
"But... for old times' sake, I'll do you that favor. This will be the last time."
Aaron inclined his head.
"Thank you."
The man nodded once before walking away.
Aaron watched him leave, then turned and strode back into the house.
Meanwhile, Leticia stood at the window, clad in a white robe, a glass of wine in her hand. She had seen everything.
"What the fuck are you up to now, Aaron..." she whispered, taking a slow sip of wine.
....
Meanwhile—
"You're okay now. With just a few more days of rest, you'll be fully recovered," the doctor said as he finished examining Blake, who sat in a hospital gown at the Royal Infirmary.
"Finally." Blake stretched.
"I can get out of here. I feel like I've been stuck in this bed for ages..." He paused midway, his gaze catching on the figure in the corner—golden honeydew eyes glowing, watching him intently.
"I mean... oww... my body still feels like it was hit by a train. Oww..." He touched his back, feigning pain.
Daniel scoffed.
"Tsk... you recovered early."
Blake's cheeks flushed briefly.
"Guess I'm one lucky son of a bitch," he chuckled.
Daniel snorted.
"Lucky indeed."
He turned to the doctor and gave a curt nod. The doctor bowed and quietly exited the room.
Silence stretched between them until—
"I'm sorry," Blake said softly.
Daniel looked at him, confused.
"For what?"
"For worrying you," Blake replied.
Daniel's eyes widened briefly in disbelief.
Blake continued, his voice steady but warm.
"I know it must have been hard for you. You and I have been friends since ever, and I know... it was hard to see me like this even though you didn't want to care. So... for that... I'm sorry."
Blake's words struck Daniel at his core. He had never expected Blake to say that.
He had expected disdain, even hatred—because it was Daniel's fault Blake had landed in that bed. Daniel should have been the one apologizing, not Blake.
But as always, Blake carried the blame for things that weren't his fault. Just as he had from the very first time they met.
....
Flashback...
It was a rainy day. Torrents poured from the sky, drenching the earth with fury.
A little boy with blonde hair, clad in a black suit, knelt on the muddy ground. The rain beat against his tiny body like a million bullets.
"Mama... Mama... Mama!"
He cried achingly before the stark black tombstone. The words carved into the stone read: In Loving Memory of Diana Presly.
"Mama... Mama..."
His voice grew low and hoarse, worn thin from hours of crying. Pain clung to every syllable.
Then, suddenly, the rain stopped pouring on him.
He turned his head and saw two shoes beside him.
Lifting his bloodshot eyes, he looked up at the newcomer—a boy about his age, also dressed in a black suit. His golden honeydew eyes glowed, almost otherworldly, staring down at him.
For a moment, Blake thought he was seeing a ghost.
The boy slowly turned his head, reading the engraved words on the tombstone.
He snickered.
"Is this what you're crying about?"
Then he faced the drenched boy.
"What's your name?"
The little boy stammered.
"B... Blake..."
"Well, Blake. You're a weak, pathetic little pussycat, aren't you? Crying over someone who's never coming back. Do you think your tears will awaken her from the dead? Tsk... such a pussy." He mocked.
The words cut deep, slicing Blake's small heart. He couldn't understand why mourning his mother was considered weak and pathetic.
The other boy saw the hurt in his eyes but didn't care. He was grieving too—life had taken his most precious one as well. But unlike Blake, he had already realized that crying would never bring them back. Better to move on... and seek revenge on those who had wronged them.
He expected Blake to lash out, to react with anger to his cruel words. But instead...
"I'm sorry," Blake muttered.
"What?" the other boy questioned.
"What for?"
Blake looked at him with his small, tear-stained blue eyes.
"I'm sorry if my crying annoyed you. You must have forced yourself to come here even though you didn't want to. Judging by your clothes... you must've lost someone dear to you as well. And I disturbed your time to mourn them. So forgive me." He lowered his head in apology.
The boy was taken aback. He hadn't expected this at all.
'This boy is truly a weak and pathetic pussy. Unbelievable.'
He opened his mouth to mock him again, but—
"However..." Blake lifted his gaze. His eyes now burned fierce, glowing with an unnatural white hue.
"I won't tolerate someone calling me weak and pathetic just because I'm expressing my grief."
He rose slowly from the ground, staring the other boy straight in the eyes. They stood face to face.
"I may look pathetic, but that doesn't mean I'm weak. I have boiling anger bubbling inside me right now against the people who murdered my mom. The kettle top could blow off at any second. So I suggest you leave—before you get caught in the crossfire."
The other boy smirked, closing the distance until their faces were only inches apart, eyes locked in defiance.
"And what if I don't leave? Are you going to kill me, huh?" he asked.
Blake's eyes glowed brighter, his voice a growl.
"Leave."
He turned away, rain drenching him once more.
"Tsk... I knew it. You're nothing but a pussy. You can't even face me. So how will you face your mom's murderers, huh? They'll kill you too—because you're nothing but a weak, pathetic loser." The boy mocked.
Blake spun around in fury.
"I said LEAVE!"
BWAAA!!
Blake hurled a punch at the tombstone beside his mother's, shattering it into smithereens. Debris scattered across the ground. The other boy lazily raised his umbrella to shield himself, its outer layer tearing away to reveal a hidden metal core beneath.
He dusted off his suit and stepped in front of Blake, who still glared at him with eyes glowing white.
"Better now?" he asked.
Blake blinked twice, confusion washing over him as his eyes returned to normal. He surveyed the wreckage, horror dawning. He had lost control—again. He had sworn to his mother he wouldn't. But now... what had he done?
The boy sighed.
"I'm Daniel."
Blake turned to see him extending a hand. He hesitated, confused, until Daniel seized it firmly and shook.
"From now on, you're my White Tiger. My right hand. My A+ in the shadows. I'll help you get revenge—and you'll help me. Deal."
Blake was bewildered by the declaration. But as he looked into Daniel's fierce eyes, he knew this was no ordinary boy. This was someone with power—someone who could help him make those bastards pay. If being the underdog meant vengeance, then so be it.
He smiled faintly and returned the handshake.
"White Tiger at your service, Boss."
Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled. And in that storm, the two boys forged a pact of allegiance—to take revenge on those who had wronged them.
They thought it would be nothing more than a relationship of boss and subordinate.
But something deeper was born.
A friendship—though neither would admit it—had taken root.
....
Back to the Present
Daniel stared intently at Blake, who now stood in front of him. The hospital gown was gone—replaced by a casual shirt, black slacks, and something Daniel immediately disliked.
"Flip flops?" He raised an eyebrow at Blake's black flip-flops, complete with bunny ears.
"Are you for real?"
Blake shrugged.
"Hey, don't judge me. They're comfortable after a near-death experience."
Daniel's eyebrow stayed raised.
"And I like them, okay? Sheesh, judgy much," Blake muttered, grabbing his bag and heading for the door.
Daniel snorted and followed.
"So... are you ready for the worst time of your life?" Blake asked as they walked away from the royal infirmary.
"Tsk... I feel sorry for you. It's gonna be a lot."
Daniel sighed.
"What? Are you going to bail me out and take my place instead? Careful—I heard there's a red-haired brunette who bites even without being provoked." He smirked at his own joke.
Blake sneered.
"Ha. Ha. That's why I'd rather watch your ass get bitten. That'll be more enjoyable. So... is there really no one you're eager to truffle with?"
Daniel smirked back.
"Well, there is one I'm looking forward to plucking the feathers from."
His mind reveled in the thought of what he planned to do to that Flamingo. He couldn't wait to strip her of her feathers, grill her down until she was nothing but a charred chicken—with no excuse left to control him.
But his reveling was cut short as they entered the main hall leading to the palace exit.
Daniel's eyes widened in disbelief. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing—wondering if it was just a fragment of his imagination.
"What the fuck..." he murmured, stepping closer.
There, in front of him, stood his Flamingo. Impeccably dressed in a pink suit, her hair flowing freely down her shoulders and back. She looked beautifully smart—radiant, poised, and infuriatingly confident.
'What the hell is she doing here? Isn't she supposed to compete in the selection? She should be at the Introduction Ball tomorrow, then moving into the Royal Villa. So why is she here... now?' Daniel mused as he approached.
Ariel saw him and immediately curtseyed.
"Greetings to the future Grand Sun, the fierce protector and stronghold of the kingdom. Greetings to the Crown Prince."
Daniel nodded in acknowledgment.
"Greetings, Lady Ariel. What an... unexpected surprise. To what do I owe this visit to the palace? I thought the ladies competing for my hand weren't allowed to appear before me until the Introduction Ball tomorrow. What? Are you so eager to claim me that you couldn't wait?"
Ariel lifted her head, snorted softly, then forced a smile.
"Actually, Your Highness..."
"She is here to stay."
A new voice cut through the air. All heads turned to see the Queen Dowager entering.
Ariel immediately curtseyed again.
"Greetings to the mighty Fortress of Flambodia, the Queen Dowager. May Her Majesty have long life."
Alicia smiled warmly.
"Oh, rise, child. There's no need for such formalities. Welcome."
She took Ariel's hands.
"How was your journey, darling?"
Ariel smiled.
"It was fine. Thank you."
"Of course. But you must be tired." Alicia turned to a servant.
"Please show Lady Ariel to her room so she can rest."
Then she turned back to Ariel.
"Go on, darling. Get some rest."
Ariel nodded politely.
"What?"
All heads turned to Daniel, who had spoken the word aloud.
Alicia's tone softened.
"Oh, Daniel, I'm sorry, darling. I forgot to mention—Lady Ariel will be staying with us at the palace during the selection season. I hope you don't mind."
But Daniel barely heard her. The words echoed in his mind:
Stay with us...
Stay with us...
His gaze lifted slowly, landing on Ariel. She was smiling brightly at him—that sweet, annoying smile that always stirred something inside him. Something he hated, because he couldn't explain it.
And now he was going to see it. Every. Single. Day.
Daniel sighed inwardly.
'Fuck... I'm screwed.'