Once.
It rang twice.
Then went straight to voicemail.
She hung up and tried again, panic flooding in now, fingers clumsy.
The phone was switched off.
Rhea stared at the screen like it had betrayed her too.
"Please," she whispered, pressing the phone to her forehead. "Please pick up."
She tried again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Her hands dropped to her lap.
The weight of it all crashed down at once — Kane's smile, the recording, Ling's eyes when she said you ruined me, the bouquet abandoned on the floor, the blazer now creased and useless beside her.
Rhea curled forward on the bed, clutching the phone in both hands like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
"I didn't mean it," she sobbed quietly. "I never meant to break you."
She pressed her face into the pillow, the scent of Ling still there, unbearable now.
Outside, the mansion was loud with celebration — Kane Nior'sbirthday still ongoing, laughter and music echoing faintly through the walls.
Inside Rhea's room, everything was dead silent.
Ling was unreachable.
The truth was too late.
And the world was already punishing the woman Rhea loved —
for trusting her.
At the end of the night, Rhea understood something with devastating clarity:
Revenge had not just destroyed Ling's faith.
It had taken away Rhea's right to be believed.
Kane entered the room without knocking.
The door closed behind her with a soft, deliberate click.
"The guests have left," Kane said calmly. "You didn't even come down."
Rhea didn't turn around.
Kane walked further in, heels measured against the floor, eyes scanning the wreckage — the bouquet on the ground, the candles burned down unevenly, Ling's blazer on the bed.
A slow smile curved her lips.
"You should be happy," Kane continued. "Your revenge is complete. Exactly as planned."
Rhea turned then.
Her eyes were red, swollen, burning with something far more dangerous than tears.
"You ruined it," Rhea said, her voice shaking but loud. "You ruined all of it."
Kane stopped.
For a moment, her face was unreadable.
Then she laughed — short, sharp, humorless.
"I saved you," Kane said. "Don't confuse that with cruelty. I am happy finallyrevenge tastes like blood."
Rhea stepped closer, fists clenched. "You destroyed her. You destroyed me. This wasn't how it was supposed to—"
Kane moved faster than Rhea could react.
Her hand shot out and closed around Rhea's throat, slamming her back against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from Rhea's lungs.
"Now you're arguing with me," Kane said quietly, eyes cold, grip tightening just enough to remind her who held power. "Because of her."
Rhea gasped, fingers clawing at Kane's wrist, eyes filling again — but she didn't look away.
Kane leaned in, voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
"Remember this, Rhea," Kane said. "I ruined my life once for a Kwong. Once."
Her grip tightened for a second more.
"I will not let that happen again," Kane continued. "Not to my daughter. Not to myself."
Rhea's chest burned as she struggled for air.
"Get that into your head."
Kane released her abruptly.
Rhea slid down the wall, coughing, hands pressed to her throat, vision blurring — but her eyes stayed locked on Kane, filled with hatred and something dangerously close to resolve.
Kane straightened her dress, composed again, as if nothing had happened.
"This is over," Kane said coldly. "Ling Kwong is finished. And so is this weakness of yours."
She turned toward the door, pausing only once.
"Tomorrow," Kane added without looking back, "you will thank me."
The door closed.
Rhea stayed on the floor, shaking, throat burning, heart tearing itself apart. "I hate that I got succeeded in my revenge."
She pressed her forehead to her knees, clutching Ling's blazer to her chest like a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.
———
The gates opened.
Kwong mansion
Lights on, waiting.
Worried.
They already knew everything. Ofcourse.
The arrest.
The video.
Kane.
Rhea.
The revenge that was meant to stay buried.
Ling barely registers the car stopping.
Victor opens the door for her himself.
The ground tilts.
She steps out — and misses.
Her heel slips. Her knees buckle.
She laughs as she falls, the sound sharp, ugly, wrong.
"Wow," she murmurs, blinking. "Gravity hates me too now."
Her vision fractures.
One mother becomes three. Then four. Then five Eliza Kwong was standing in front of her — all sharp eyes, all judgment, all disappointment layered over each other.
Eliza rushes forward and grabs her arm before she hits the floor completely.
"Ling—"
Ling pulls back weakly, still laughing.
"Which one of you is real?" she slurs softly, squinting. "Pick one. I'm tired."
Her head spins violently.
The world swims.
Dadi was there solid, furious, heartbroken.
Victor stood stiff, jaw locked.
Rina looks like she might cry and kill someone at the same time.
Eliza's voice trembles despite her control.
"Look at you," she says, anger cracking through fear. "You destroyed yourself for a girl who—"
Ling suddenly looks at her.
Really looks.
Her smile drops.
Her eyes fill.
"Oh," she whispers, realization dawning slow and cruel.
"You were right."
That hurts Eliza more than any accusation ever could.
Ling tries to straighten, fails, sways again.
"I didn't listen," Ling continues, words slurring but pain razor-sharp. "I thought… I thought I was special. I thought she chose me."
Her laugh returns — broken, choking.
"She planned everything," Ling says, voice shaking. "Her mother was honest. I was just… stupid."
She tries to walk forward.
Falls again.
This time Victor catches her before she hits the marble floor.
Ling clutches his shirt like a child without meaning to.
"I'm seeing too many of you," she whispers. "Make them stop."
Her body finally gives in.
She sags completely — consciousness slipping, breath uneven, tears soaking into Victor's shoulder.
Eliza covers her mouth with trembling fingers.
Dadi turns away sharply, blinking hard.
Rina steps closer, voice breaking. "Ling loved her," she whispers. "And she destroyed her in return."
Victor holds his daughter tighter, jaw clenched so hard it hurts.
Above them, screens still glow with headlines.
Outside, the world is feasting.
Inside, Ling Kwong — undefeated, untouchable, feared —
is in her father's arms,
laughing and crying at the same time,
while the last belief she ever had in love
dies quietly in the same night.
Eliza steps forward instinctively.
"Ling—"
Ling's head snaps up.
"Don't," she says sharply — then her voice collapses halfway through the word.
Eliza freezes.
Ling pushes herself upright just enough, one hand braced against Victor's chest, the other lifting in a trembling stop.
"Don't come near me," Ling whispers.
Her eyes are unfocused, wet, terrified — not drunk now, just raw.
Eliza's breath stutters. "Ling, I'm your mother."
Ling laughs weakly, shaking her head.
"That's what scares me."
Everyone stills.
Ling's voice drops, cracks, then breaks completely.
"You'll do it too," she says, tears spilling freely now. "You'll come… you'll love me… make me depend on you… make me weak—"
Her chest heaves.
"And then you'll leave," she sobs. "Just like her."
Eliza's face drains of color.
Ling presses her palm to her own chest as if trying to keep herself together.
"I don't want to lose you, Mom," she cries openly now, the words torn out of her. "I can't survive that again. I won't. Please… please don't touch me like that."
Eliza takes a step back as if struck.
Dadi inhales sharply.
Rina's hand flies to her mouth.
Victor tightens his hold around Ling, grounding her before she slips again.
Eliza's control finally fractures.
Her voice shakes. "I never left you. I'll never."
Ling looks at her — really looks — eyes full of terror, not accusation.
"You didn't," Ling whispers. "That's why I'm begging you not to start."
Her knees give out again.
Victor lowers her carefully onto the couch.
Ling curls inward, arms wrapping around herself, rocking slightly.
"I ruined myself," she murmurs, staring at nothing. "I let someone in. I broke my own rules. I gave her everything I protected for years."
Her lips tremble.
"And she laughed about it."
Silence crushes the room.
Eliza turns away abruptly, pressing her hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking once — just once — before she straightens.
Dadi moves closer to Ling, kneeling so she's at eye level.
"Listen to me," Dadi says softly but firmly. "You were not weak. You were human."
Ling's eyes flicker to her.
"I don't want to be human anymore," Ling whispers. "Humans bleed."
She cried again — a sound torn out of her chest — and pushed herself up from the couch despite Victor trying to steady her. She stumbled, almost falling twice, vision still splitting, the room tilting beneath her feet.
Eliza stepped forward instinctively.
Ling went to her.
She collapsed down with her, both of them sinking to the cold marble floor as if their legs had given up at the same time. Ling clutched Eliza tightly, arms wrapping around her mother like she was afraid Eliza might disappear if she loosened her grip even for a second.
Eliza held her immediately — no hesitation, no control, just arms closing around her daughter, fingers threading into Ling's hair, pressing her face against her shoulder.
Ling sobbed into her, breath breaking, body shaking violently.
"I'm sorry," Ling cried, voice hoarse, broken. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you."
Eliza's hand trembled as she stroked Ling's hair.
"You warned me," Ling continued through sobs, the words tumbling out unevenly. "You told me to leave her… you told me something was wrong… and I didn't listen."
She pulled back just enough to look at Eliza, eyes red, unfocused, devastated.
"I'm sorry, Mom," she said again, softer now, defeated. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you when you said to leave her."
Eliza broke then.
She pressed her forehead to Ling's, tears slipping down freely, something she never allowed anyone to see.
"I should have protected you better," Eliza whispered. "I should have stopped it sooner."
Ling shook her head weakly, clinging tighter.
"No," she sobbed. "I chose her. I chose this. I wanted her. She never loved me."
Her body sagged completely in Eliza's arms.
Victor stood a few steps away, helpless, watching his daughter fold into her mother like a wounded child.
Dadi turned her face away, eyes burning.
Rina knelt beside them, resting a hand on Ling's back, grounding her.
Ling stayed there on the floor, curled against Eliza, crying until her chest hurt and her throat burned — until there was nothing left in her except exhaustion and the quiet, devastating acceptance that the one person she had fought her entire life to trust…
had not been the one who betrayed her.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Her body finally gives up the fight.
As sleep drags her under, the last thing she murmurs — barely sound —
"Don't let me love again."
Victor stays still long after she stops shaking.
Eliza watched her in her arms, realizing with brutal clarity:
Kane Nior didn't just aim for revenge.
She taught Ling Kwong to fear love itself.
And that damage
will not heal quietly.