Estelle's years of waiting had finally paid off. The vengeance she had longed for, the vengeance for her parents, was finally within reach. For five long years she had carried the weight of their deaths in silence, shaping it into a single unwavering purpose.
Tonight, a single porcelain cup will fulfill that purpose.
She stepped forward, carrying a cup of tea laced with poison. The steam curled gently into the air, fragrant and harmless in appearance. Her fingers tightened around the tray as her eyes fell on the man she hated more than anyone else.
Hector Nightwood.
The man who had murdered her parents five years ago.
He was the most influential figure in Eden City. The Nightwood family had ruled the city for decades, their name spoken with reverence and fear. Their vast businesses stretched from finance to pharmaceuticals, making them the wealthiest among all influential families. Politicians bowed to them. Rivals disappeared quietly. No one dared to challenge their authority.
Once, the Nightwoods had been her family's savior. When her father's company faced bankruptcy, it was the Nightwoods who extended a helping hand. Alliances were formed. Trust was built.
Then, everything fell apart.
Her parents died shortly after meeting the head of the Nightwood family, Hector himself. Their car had been found abandoned on the outskirts of the city. Their bodies were discovered in a warehouse by the docks. When her father's body was recovered, his hand was clutching a ring engraved with Hector's name.
That single piece of evidence was all Estelle had. But it was not enough. No one dared accuse the Nightwoods. The police closed the case within weeks. Officials who once smiled warmly at her family refused to meet her gaze. Doors shut in her face. Friends vanished. She was left alone with grief.
Hector Nightwood had killed them.
That was why she changed her identity. She cut her hair, altered her appearance, forged documents, and erased the girl she once was. The heiress of a respected family became nothing more than a nameless servant.
She slipped into the Nightwood residence under the guise of a maid. Fortunately, Hector had never met her before. Because of that, she managed to infiltrate the mansion perfectly.
Every day she observed him. Every night she memorized his routines. And tonight, she would end him.
"Here's your tea, Master," Estelle said softly as she bowed and set the cup before him.
Hector remained focused on the documents in his hands, seated comfortably on the grand sofa in his private study. Warm lamplight cast long shadows across the polished floor.
Estelle stood beside the sofa, clutching the tray, waiting.
"Are you the new maid?" Hector asked without looking up.
His deep voice startled her, and a chill raced down her spine. Despite the tremor in her body, she nodded slightly.
"Yes, Master."
In her heart, she steeled herself. Even if she became the culprit and was punished by death, she would not be afraid. She would not hesitate to trade her life for his death.
Finally, Hector placed the documents on the table. His piercing blue eyes lifted to study her.
For a brief second, Estelle felt exposed, like prey caught in a predator's gaze. There was something unsettling in his stare. Not suspicion. Not confusion.
He reached for the teacup. He inhaled its aroma slowly, thoughtfully. A faint smile curved his lips.
As if he knew.
"What's your name?" he asked casually.
"Estelle," she replied.
As she answered his question, her heart begged him to drink it. End this. End everything.
Instead, Hector set the cup back down.
He smiled.
Before Estelle could comprehend what was happening, the door opened. His assistant, Mattheo, entered the room dragging a man whose face was drenched in blood. The man's clothes were torn. His eyes were swollen. He could barely stand.
The sight shattered her composure. Memories surged violently, her parents lying in pools of their own blood. The metallic smell. The silence. Her legs trembled uncontrollably.
"Estelle," Hector said softly, "do not move from that spot."
Her breath caught.
He picked up the poisoned cup.
Her eyes widened in horror as Hector forced the bloodied man to his knees and shoved the teacup against his lips.
"Please… mercy…" the man sobbed.
Hector's expression did not change. He forced him to drink. Every drop.
Estelle's body shook violently as the man gagged, coughed, and then began vomiting blood onto the marble floor. His screams echoed through the room before dissolving into choking gasps.
She turned her gaze away. The sight is unbearable to her. When she looked back, Hector was watching her.
A wide, satisfied grin stretched across his face.
He knew.
Run.
Her body finally obeyed.
She rushed toward the door, grasping the handle, but Hector moved faster.
In a blur, he seized her by the waist and flung her onto the sofa. The impact knocked the air from her lungs. He pinned her wrists above her head effortlessly, his strength overwhelming.
"Let me go! Let me go!" she cried, struggling.
Her strength was nothing compared to his.
"Mattheo," Hector growled calmly, "it seems we have found another rat sneaking into the Nightwood residence."
Mattheo smiled, unfazed by the corpse cooling on the floor. From inside his suit, he pulled out several items. A gun, a pair of handcuffs, and a small glass bottle filled with pink liquid. He arranged them neatly on the table.
Estelle stared in horror.
No. She couldn't die yet. Not before him. Not before she avenged her parents!
"You can choose your preference," Mattheo said lightly.
"It would be a waste to kill her now," Hector replied.
His gaze returned to her.
"Prepare yourself, Little Lioness."
The nickname made her blood run cold. When he removed his hand from her mouth, she parted her lips to curse him, to spit in his face, but she never got the chance. His hand struck the side of her neck.
Darkness swallowed her.
When she lost consciousness, Hector remained standing over her.
Her body lay sprawled across the sofa, fragile and defenseless. In the soft glow of the dim lights, her beauty was almost unreal. Her long lashes rested against her cheeks. Strands of hair framed her face.
He crouched slightly, studying her.
"Estelle," he murmured.
He had known the moment she stepped into the mansion several weeks ago. The resemblance to her mother was unmistakable. The same eyes. The same stubborn fire. He had allowed her to stay because he had been curious.
The ring her father had clutched five years ago had not been proof of murder. It had been a message. An unfinished negotiation gone wrong. But explaining that now would ruin everything. And Hector was not a man who rushed.
He rose to his feet.
"I will use them both," he said, pointing to the handcuffs and the pink bottle. "Lock her in my room."
Mattheo chuckled, understanding perfectly.
"Yes, Master. I will prepare everything."
As Mattheo lifted Estelle into his arms, Hector glanced once more at her unconscious face. A small, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips. The little lioness had stepped into the lion's den. And this was only the beginning.
***