So yes—
This was cruel.
But it was also necessary.
Discipline wasn't kindness.
It was armor.
'Enough,' she told herself, snapping her focus forward. 'Back to work.'
With a sharp 'thwack', her folding fan snapped open.
In an instant, her entire demeanor shifted.
The cold, calculating predator vanished, replaced by a languid, indulgent young master with too much money and too little restraint.
"Samuel," she drawled, her voice pitched just loud enough to carry, "let us browse. I will need something exceptional if I am to attend the upcoming banquets."
For the next two hours, she performed flawlessly.
It was shopping—
On the surface.
In reality, it was war.
She drifted from stall to stall, trailing silk and silver in her wake. Trinkets, fabrics, rare teas—anything that justified conversation.
And with every purchase Samuel paid for, Heena loosened her tongue just enough.
