Vanessa looked like she'd swallowed a mouthful of thumbtacks. The kind of tight-lipped panic only rich girls wore when they realized they were no longer the ones holding the leash.
"I see you haven't lost your flair for dramatics," she said, voice brittle.
Elise didn't blink. "And you haven't lost your habit of gambling with things that aren't yours."
Silas, lounging on the armrest like some dark prince of chaos, twirled a crystal tumbler in his hand. "I do enjoy a good family feud. But if you're done spewing threats disguised as 'negotiations,' we've got better things to do."
Vanessa turned to him, the fake innocence dripping off her like cheap perfume. "I'm not here to fight. I'm here to propose a truce. We can both profit, Silas. Elise doesn't have to be involved."
Wrong move.
The air snapped.
Elise stepped forward, her tone like silk-wrapped steel. "You don't get to cut me out of my own life. I'm not some pawn to be traded anymore."
Vanessa's mask cracked. "You think just because he's letting you play dress-up in his mansion, you're safe?"
Elise smiled. That smile. The one that said someone was about to be destroyed—politely.
"Oh, honey," she said sweetly, "I'm not just safe. I'm powerful. And you're standing in my house now."
Silas stood and placed a gentle kiss on Elise's temple, the kind that looked sweet to the outside eye but screamed "I'm on her side—be afraid."
"Vanessa," he said, voice low, "you should know something important."
She tilted her head.
"I didn't just buy Elise. I chose her. And now we're building something… permanent. And your little inheritance drama? It's not leverage. It's fuel."
Vanessa tried to laugh, but it came out like a gasp. "You're bluffing."
Elise's eyes gleamed. "I never bluff. And now, you have two choices: walk away and stay quiet—or stay and get burned."
Vanessa turned without a word, heels echoing like war drums as she stormed out.
Silas raised his brows. "That went well."
Elise watched the door close behind her sister. "That was just the opening move."