Ling surged to his feet. His calm was gone, ripped out at the root.
He grabbed the engineer by his collar, lifting him just enough that his heels scraped the marble floor. His blood-smeared knuckles pressed into his chest, eyes blazing, feral.
"Open it," he said quietly.
That quiet was worse than a scream.
The engineer swallowed hard. "M–Mr Kwong, p-please... one minute..."
Ling leaned in, his forehead almost touching his. "You have ten seconds," he whispered. "Nine if I blink."
Everyone froze.
Mira took a step back. Rina stopped breathing. The two boys stiffened, knowing this wasn't a threat, it was a countdown.
Inside the elevator...
Rhea's knees finally gave out.
Her breath stuttered once. Twice.
Then stopped trying.
Her head lolled to the side, lashes wet, lips parted in a silent, defeated gasp. Her body went limp against the cold metal wall.
Ling felt it.
He didn't know how... but something in his chest tore.
"OPEN. IT. NOW."
The engineer fumbled violently, fingers slipping over buttons, sweat pouring down his face.
"Seven..."
Click.
"Six..."
A loud mechanical groan echoed.
"Five..."
The doors shuddered.
"FOUR..."
They slid apart.
Ling didn't wait.
He shoved past everyone, heart slamming so hard it hurt, eyes locking onto the crumpled figure inside.
Rhea lay unconscious on the floor.
Still.
Too still.
Ling dropped to his knees so fast it hurt, hands shaking as he gathered Rhea into his arms. Blood from Ling's knuckles smeared against Rhea's wine-colored dress, blooming dark and ugly.
"No... no... no..." Ling whispered, panic choking his voice. "You don't get to do this."
He pressed his forehead to Rhea's, breath uneven, tears falling freely now, no pride left to protect him.
"Wake up," he begged softly, thumbs brushing Rhea's cheeks. "I'm here. You're safe. I swear... you're safe."
His voice cracked completely.
Rhea didn't move.
Ling's jaw clenched, fury and terror colliding violently inside his chest.
He lifted Rhea carefully, possessively, as if the world itself might try to steal her again.
"Move," Ling snapped at everyone without looking up. "Now."
No one dared argue.
Ling Kwong walked through it like a storm wrapped in skin, Rhea cradled against his chest, one arm under her knees, the other tight around her back as if loosening even a fraction would break something irreparable.
Blood stained Ling's sleeve.
His.
Every step echoed.
His family stood frozen.
Victor's strict, unshakable gaze faltered just for a second. He had seen his son command boardrooms, break men with a look, bend institutions to his will.
He had never seen him like this.
Eliza's pride dimmed into something unreadable. Her lips parted slightly, shock flickering beneath her polished control. This wasn't dominance. This wasn't strategy.
This was terror.
Dadi's teasing smile vanished completely. Her sharp eyes softened, old wisdom recognizing something dangerous and rare. She pressed a hand to her chest, whispering almost reverently,
"God, help him."
Rina didn't joke.
Didn't tease.
She just stared wide-eyed as Ling bypassed every guest room, every corridor, every rule he had enforced since childhood.
Straight to his room.
The door opened.
Ling stepped inside.
And the world shifted.
No one had ever crossed that threshold without permission. Not friends. Not family. Not even Mira. It was the one space Ling guarded like a fortress, clean, cold, controlled.
Until now.
He laid Rhea gently on his bed.
His bed.
The silk sheets crumpled beneath Rhea's unconscious weight, wine-colored fabric stark against the monochrome room. Ling hesitated only a second before pulling the blanket over her, hands trembling as they brushed Rhea's arm.
Too pale.
Too still.
Ling knelt beside the bed, breath uneven, staring like he didn't trust reality anymore.
"I told you to breathe," he whispered hoarsely, thumb hovering near Rhea's cheek but not quite touching. "You were supposed to listen."
His voice broke on the last word.
He clenched his fist instead, blood seeping again, dripping silently onto the floor. Ling didn't notice. Or maybe he didn't care.
For the first time, he had let someone into the only place he never shared
Not because he chose to.
But because his fear did.
"One doctor," he said sharply, without turning around. "Now."
A woman stepped forward from the guests, mid-forties, composed, a private physician often present at Kwong gatherings. She hesitated only a second before following Ling toward the room.
Mira moved too.
Instinct. Panic. Jealousy masked as concern.
"I'll come..." Mira started, already stepping over the threshold.
Ling turned.
The air cracked.
His glare hit Mira like a blade, eyes red, wet, burning with something far more dangerous than rage. Fear lived there too, raw and unfiltered, and it made him terrifying.
"Don't," Ling said.
Just one word.
Mira froze.
Ling took a step closer, voice dropping so low it vibrated with promise. "You don't get to cross this line."
Mira's lips trembled. "Ling, I was just..."
Ling leaned in, close enough that Mira could smell blood and adrenaline. His eyes narrowed, sharp with sudden clarity.
"I know it was you," he said quietly. "Jian doesn't move unless someone pulls his strings."
Mira's face drained of color.
Ling's jaw clenched, muscles in his neck standing out violently. "Not now," he warned. "Not tonight."
He straightened, voice cutting cold as steel.
"But don't mistake my silence for mercy."
His gaze hardened further. "I'll deal with you later."
The words landed like a sentence, not a threat.
Mira couldn't speak.
Ling turned away without another glance and shut the door behind him, firm, final.
Inside, the doctor was already kneeling beside the bed, checking Rhea's pulse, her breathing, murmuring clinical reassurances.
Ling stood at the foot of the bed, fists clenched, blood still drying on his knuckles, chest rising too fast. His eyes never left Rhea's face.
"Is she..." Ling started, then stopped, swallowing hard. He forced the word out anyway. "Ok?"
The doctor looked up. "She fainted from severe panic and oxygen deprivation, maybe Claustrophobia. She'll wake up."
Ling's knees almost gave out.
He gripped the bedpost instead, knuckles whitening, breath shuddering as relief hit him like a delayed blow.
"Good," he whispered, not to the doctor, not to anyone. To himself. To whatever had been listening.
And Mira, standing alone in the corridor, hands clenched at her sides, finally understood something she had been refusing to see:
She hadn't been competing with Rhea.
She had already lost.
Outside the closed door, no one spoke.
They had seen Ling Kwong furious before.
They had never seen him afraid.
They all understood one thing now, even if Ling himself refused to:
Whatever Rhea Noir was to Ling Kwong
She had already crossed a line no one else ever had.
And Ling Kwong had never been this afraid of losing anything in his life.