SIN
"I need to speak with you, sister."
The voice, saccharine and sickly sweet, cut through the midnight quiet of my corridor.
Rising slowly from the massive blueprints covering my desk, I walked to the heavy double doors and opened them. There stood my dear stepsister, Safiya. She wore a wide, unsettling smile…the kind I wanted to slap clean off her face just to relieve the tension.
Her eyes immediately swept across my inner sanctum, scanning every surface. "Can I come in?" she asked, her voice high and deliberately innocent.
With a cold, dismissive smile, I stepped aside, allowing the viper access to my nest. She oohed and aahed as she stepped inside, staring at the bespoke security panels and the cold, minimalist design with forced amazement.
"You surely don't joke about your space, sister. It's… clinical."
"What are you doing here?" I cut her off sharply, before she could even consider settling in. I stood by the door, arms crossed, ready to use my foot to propel her back into the hallway. "As you can see, I am very busy." I gestured towards my table.
She nodded with mock reverence. "You do work hard, big sister. I respect that about you. You're my role model, did you know?"
I sighed, inhaling the expensive, sweet scent of her perfume. "And I ask again, what the hell are you doing in my room?"
She chuckled suddenly, a low, unnerving sound as she walked straight to my bed, sitting gracefully on the edge and crossing her legs. Her hands immediately began to caress the imported, high-thread-count sheets.
"Can't I come see my dear big sister?" she purred. "We barely exchange pleasantries. And today at the office," she continued, a wicked smile blooming on her lips. "It was brutal. It wasn't nice of them to assume such disgusting, slutty things about you."
She paused, tilting her head. "Though, it's not entirely your fault. You built that club by yourself, and let's be honest… It's the only place you're actually accepted. It's a shame, really, despite you technically being the CEO. They should respect the grind."
I sighed, a low, exhausted sound, looking down at my shoes. "Safiya." I looked up at her, fixing her with a gaze that held no warmth. "As you can see, I have a lifetime of work on this desk tonight. Thank you for your utterly fake concern, but I need you to leave. Just for everyone's safety…especially yours."
She laughed, a sharp, metallic sound, as she stood up. "Sin." She called my name, walking slowly toward me, every movement a calculated dance. "From the very first day you realized you had a little sister, you have been everything but welcoming. I get it, though…if I had a younger sister suddenly appear that Father adored so much, I'd lose my fucking mind and kill her in her sleep."
She laughed again, a pure, sociopathic sound. She wasn't wrong. She was that crazy.
"Thanks for the information. Now kindly exit before I lose interest in your existence."
"What's the rush? What are you even doing?" She walked excitedly to my desk, lifting a stack of sensitive documents and flicking through them carelessly, nodding and making loud, distracting sounds of awe. "You really do put in the work, sister. It's amazing, for someone who's quite not accepted in this family."
She chuckled, tossing the papers back onto the desk and walking slowly toward me again.
"How do you do it? Keep all that delicious, murderous rage bottled up? I know if you had a gun and the opportunity, you would have shot every single asshole, at that table today. The hunger, the drive…" she whispered, her eyes wide, glistening with perverse excitement as she closed the distance. "At least for me, I know I would have emptied the clip. You did lose control, though. You threw a dagger at that fucking fool, Viti, but you missed on purpose," she noted, a thin, knowing smirk on her face.
I had to restrain myself from confirming her observation. I breathed out, tired of the charade. "Safiya…"
"Sin." She cut me off, now standing dangerously close. "Have you heard the latest from Father?" her smile widened into something truly predatory. "I might as well tell you, because seeing you slave away every day and night to earn acceptance in this house is draining to watch. As your dear little sister, I feel obligated."
I knew where this was going. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of finishing her monologue, but I needed to hear the words from her mouth.
"Father doesn't have any plans on handing this company to you." Her voice was a low, triumphant purr. "Mother…our mother…had a discussion with him months ago, and he made it clear. He says he'd rather die than see the girl who killed his dear first wife inherit his place. You know, the girl who ended his only true love."
She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, intently studying my face for any flicker of reaction. Safiya didn't just crave reactions; they were her lifeblood. I once watched her climax while torturing a debtor…the begging and despair fueling her sick high. She was a deeply, violently broken bitch…a product of these walls.
She lowered her hand. "Hearing that story every time still blows my mind. Your mother picking you over herself. A girl who runs a den of whores now, just for a piece of intel. Your mother?" She paused, holding my gaze. "She was fucking stupid."
The word was a trigger I couldn't ignore.
I raised my hand in the air, the action sudden, precise, and brutal. I slapped her across the face so hard she fell backward onto the floor, her laughter instantly replaced by a choked, surprised silence.
"Never speak about the woman ever again," I commanded, my voice vibrating with controlled violence.
Safiya immediately started laughing…louder, a hysterical, cracked sound…blood already pooling in her mouth. "Why? For a bitch you didn't even meet?!" she cackled, quickly crawling backward, scrambling across the marble. "The exact reaction I needed! The blood-shot eyes! You see how easy it was to trigger you, Sin!"
"If you think this is me being triggered, then you have learned nothing about control in all your years in this house," I stated, turning my back on her to walk to the door, intending to throw her out.
That's when I heard it: the cold, unmistakable click of a hammer being cocked.
"I could shoot you right here, right now, and no fucking person would care," she purred, her voice low, delighted, and utterly deranged.
I turned around slowly. She was sitting on the floor, her hair rough, blood dripping from her nose, pointing one of my own small reserve pistols directly at my chest. I tilted my head, examining the sheer absurdity of the moment.
She clicked the gun again, a small, aggressive sound. "And it would be a gift to the family." She laughed, a true, maniacal sound of victory.
There was a moment of absolute silence before I threw my head back and roared with laughter. It was the deepest, most genuine sound she had ever heard from me.
"Go on," I said, and I saw her eyes gleam with a sliver of hope.
I walked toward her, squatting down slowly. With her still pointing the cold barrel to my forehead, I leaned in. I deliberately brought my head forward until the metal made a solid, cold impact against my skin, making her flinch in surprise.
"Shoot, you pathetic psycho," I smirked. I saw her throat bob as she swallowed hard. It felt like hours of her just sitting there, frozen, unable to pull the trigger.
"I hate people that are all talk and no shit," I finally murmured.
Then, with lightning speed, I grabbed the gun from her slack grip and stood up, pointing it directly at her forehead. She flinched violently at the reversal of power.
"As for me, I am very fucking different."
I pulled the trigger. She shrieked, covering her ears in sheer terror, bracing for death.
A dry, hollow click echoed through the room…the sound of the firing pin hitting an empty chamber.
She immediately looked down, frantically touching her body, expecting warmth and blood.
"The next time you grab a pistol from my desk, fool, fucking check if it's loaded." I let the insult hang in the air. "Now scram."
She scrambled to her feet, abandoning all pretense of grace or power, and ran out the door.