Elena exhaled slowly, pushing her wet hair back from her face. Her heartbeat was loud, echoing in her ears as water dripped from her body onto the tile.
She had decided to step out and confront whoever had entered her room.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she cracked the bathroom door open just enough to peer into the bedroom.
The room was dim, lit only by the bedside lamp she had left on earlier. Shadows stretched long across the floor. Her bed was untouched. Everything looked… normal.
Except the towel.
It wasn't on the bed where she had left it.
Which meant she would be stepping out naked—and whoever was in her room had taken it.
Elena hesitated.
Then she stepped out anyway.
Bare feet met the cool floor, silent as she moved forward. Her skin prickled, every sense on high alert. She prepared herself for the worst, but the moment she crossed the threshold into her bedroom—
"You should dry off before you catch a cold," a voice said.
Elena froze.
The voice came from her side.
She turned slowly.
Victoria stood near the balcony window, perfectly composed, as though she had always been there. Her posture was relaxed, almost casual—but her gaze was sharp, cold, fixed on Elena with an intensity that made her skin crawl.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Water dripped from Elena's hair onto the rug.
"You should dry off," Victoria repeated.
Elena stared at her.
Up close, the damage to Victoria's face was impossible to miss.
A fresh bandage covered her cheek, clean and stark against her skin. Beneath it, stitches pulled faintly when she moved her mouth. Someone had done careful work—but not careful enough to hide the violence that had caused it.
Elena swallowed.
"What are you doing in my room?" she asked. "And more importantly—how did you get in? I was certain the door was locked." Her gaze flicked toward the balcony. "So unless you can fly three stories up, I'm assuming you walked through a locked door."
She didn't bother masking her irritation. She didn't bother to act polite either.
Victoria tilted her head slightly, studying her, as though Elena's words were mildly entertaining.
"What are you doing in my home?" she asked instead.
Her voice was ice-cold. Her eyes even colder. The silence stretched, sharp and brittle.
"I was invited," Elena replied coolly. "By your daughter. But if I'm an inconvenience, I'll leave right away."
There was a long pause then—Victoria laughed.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't kind. It creased her face, making her look older.
"You're good," she said, shaking her head. "I mean...really good."
"I don't know what you mean." Elena replied with a frown.
"Oh, you do." Victoria crossed the room and sat on the edge of Elena's bed, folding one leg over the other with deliberate ease. "You're good at acting."
Elena kept her face smooth. "Acting?"
"Yes." Victoria's gaze locked onto hers. "And don't insult me by pretending otherwise. I recognize it because I too can put on a little show myself."
"Mrs. Armstrong," Elena said evenly, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about how you manipulated my daughter into bringing you into this house."
Elena went still.
"Harper is a fool, so dumb and naive." Victoria continued casually. "She's easy to manipulate. And trust me—You're not the first girl she's trusted. You're just the most convincing one."
Elena's eyes narrowed.
"And what exactly do you think I want?" she asked quietly.
Victoria's mouth twisted. "To marry one of my sons? The Armstrong name? The money?" She looked openly disgusted. "That's usually the goal."
Elena almost laughed.
For a brief moment, she had thought Victoria might actually be onto her.
But no.
Victoria wasn't smart enough for that.
"I would rather die," Elena muttered flatly. "I would rather put a gun to my head than marry one of your sons."
The disgust in her voice was unmistakable. She didn't bother hiding it.
Victoria scoffed. "Sure you would, that's what girls like you always say. But your acting skills won't fool me." Her eyes narrowed. "Stay away from my sons. Do you understand?"
Elena scoffed. "You should tell your sons to stay away from me, Mrs. Armstrong. Because trust me—I want nothing to do with them."
Victoria rose slowly, glaring at her.
"I'm allowing you to stay here only because of Harper," she said, stepping closer. Her voice dropped. "But If I discover you have other motives—"
She leaned in slightly invading Elena's space.
"Ask Harper what happened to the others who crossed that line."
Then she turned toward the door.
Elena's hands curled into fists. Her temper rising, hot and sharp. She should have stayed silent. She knew that.
But she didn't.
"What happened to them?" Elena shot back. "Did you kill them too—like you killed Laura?"
Victoria stopped.
Completely.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Slowly, Victoria turned around. And the look on her face told Elena she had struck something buried deep.
Victoria faced her fully now, squaring her shoulders, every inch of her posture screaming authority.. "Don't test me, girl," she said quietly. "I'm known to be vicious. You do not want me as your enemy."
Elena laughed. Not loud. Not amused. A soft, breathy sound that carried no fear at all.
"You know," she said lightly, tilting her head, "you could say the exact same thing about me."
Victoria stared at her.
Really stared.
Not at her body. Not at her youth. But at her face—searching, assessing, recalculating. Who the hell was this girl? Most people folded by now. Most people flinched.
Elena didn't.
"You clearly don't know who I am," Victoria said, smiling. "Don't worry. I'll show you."
"Like you showed Laura?" Elena asked.
The air snapped.
Victoria's smile vanished instantly. Her eyes darkened, something raw flashing beneath the surface before it was buried again. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
Elena held her ground, heart pounding, mind racing.
She knew she shouldn't be pushing. Knew she had just crossed a line—one she couldn't uncross. But if Victoria had killed Laura… if she was capable of that…
Was she also the Armstrong who had ordered her parents' deaths?