The rain had eased to a drizzle by the time the car rolled to a stop outside the weathered apartment building. Thea stepped out first, her heeled black boots clicking softly against the cracked pavement. She wore a charcoal-gray sheer mesh bodysuit, its form-fitting structure leaving her torso and sides subtly visible, the neckline plunging almost to her navel. A thin silver chain glinted at her collarbone, and her hair was pulled into a tight, rain-slick braid down her back—precise, uncompromising. She surveyed the graffiti-tagged walls and flickering streetlights. Walter joined her, adjusting his suit jacket with a nervous tug before leading the way inside. The stairwell smelled of mildew and burnt coffee, the peeling wallpaper
When they reached the door, Walter hesitated only a moment before knocking—three firm raps that echoed down the dim hallway. A few seconds passed in silence before the door creaked open just enough to reveal a sliver of a face—sharp eyes, high cheekbones, and a guarded expression.
"Who are you?"
Thea recognized Emiko's voice immediately—cool, measured, playing ignorant despite the way her grip on the doorframe tightened ever so slightly.
Walter cleared his throat, his tone carefully neutral. "My name is Walter Steele. This is Thea Queen. We're here because Robert left instructions—about you. About both of you."
A pause. Thea could practically hear the calculations running behind Emiko's eyes—weighing risk, opportunity, and threat. Then, with deliberate slowness, the door opened wider, and Emiko stepped aside to let them in.
The apartment was small but meticulously kept, the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air. In the living room, Kazumi Adachi sat on the couch, her hands folded in her lap, her expression unreadable. She didn't stand as they entered, but her gaze tracked them with quiet intensity.
Emiko motioned toward the chairs across from her mother. "Sit."
Thea obeyed, crossing her legs as she settled into the worn upholstery. Walter remained standing for a beat longer before sitting beside her, his posture rigid with discomfort. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and withdrew the opened envelope—the letter Robert had left for him, its edges worn from years of secret keeping.
"This is a letter Robert wrote to me in case of his death," Walter said as he handed it to Kazumi.
Kazumi's hands trembled almost imperceptibly as she took the letter. Emiko moved closer, her shoulder brushing her mother's as they both looked down at Robert's familiar handwriting. Thea watched their faces carefully—the way Kazumi's breath caught at the first line, the way Emiko's jaw tightened as she read further. The words were private, meant only for them, but the emotions they stirred were plain enough: grief, regret, and something that might have been forgiveness or the beginnings of it.
The room was silent except for the quiet rustle of paper and the distant sound of rain against the window. When Kazumi finally looked up, her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but her voice was steady.
"He always meant to come back," she said softly, more to herself than to them.
Emiko's fingers tightened around the letter, her dark eyes flashing as she turned to Thea. "Why?" she demanded, her voice low but sharp as a blade. "Why would you come here and tell us this? You could have kept this secret. Gone on with your perfect Queen life."
Thea met her gaze without flinching. "Because what my parents did to you was wrong," she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions churning inside her. "You deserved to know your father. You deserved better than to be erased from his life because of my mother's selfishness." She leaned forward slightly. "And you deserve your birthright—the part of our family that should have been yours all along."
Emiko let out a harsh laugh, shaking her head. "Birthright? You think I care about money? About shares in some company?"
"I think you care about justice," Thea countered. "About the truth. And I'm giving you both." She hesitated for just a moment before adding, softer now, "And I'd love for a chance to get to know my big sister."
The words hung in the air between them, vulnerable and sincere. Emiko's breath caught slightly, her defensive posture faltering for just a second before she recovered.
"And your mother?" she asked, her tone still skeptical but less sharp now. "How does Moira Queen feel about you coming here and betraying her secrets? About you wanting to play happy families with her husband's... mistake?"
Thea's jaw tightened. "For what it's worth," she said, a wry smile touching her lips, "my mother isn't much of a saint either. Actually, I'd say we're pretty similar." The smile faded as she continued, "She doesn't know I'm here. And when she finds out..." She exhaled sharply. "Let's just say I'm not doing this for her approval. I'm doing it because it's right."
Kazumi placed a gentle hand on her daughter's arm, but Emiko remained rigid, studying Thea with narrowed eyes. "You expect me to believe that? After all these years of silence?"
"No," Thea said honestly. "I expect you to be suspicious. I would be, in your place." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small folder. "But these don't lie. Copies of the legal documents Robert filed before his death—the ones my mother made disappear. They prove your claim."
The room fell silent again as Emiko took the folder, her fingers brushing against Thea's in the exchange. That brief contact seemed to startle them both—the first physical connection between sisters who had lived separate lives for so long.
Walter cleared his throat, rising from his chair. "We should go," he said gently. "Give you both time to... process everything."
Thea stood as well, though she hesitated before turning to leave. Her eyes met Emiko's one last time. "The offer stands," she said quietly. "Whenever you're ready."
As they stepped back into the dim hallway, the sound of rain and distant traffic filling the space between them, Walter let out a long breath. "That went... better than I expected," he admitted quietly.
Thea didn't reply immediately. Her mind was still back in that small apartment, with the woman who shared her father's eyes and the sister who carried his stubbornness. She didn't know what would happen next—if Emiko would embrace this new reality or reject it outright.
Laurel's dimly lit apartment, 2 AM. Empty wine bottles cluttered the coffee table, along with half-eaten takeout containers. The TV played some late-night infomercial on mute, casting flickering blue light across the room.
Laurel Lance slumped on her couch, her usually pristine blouse wrinkled, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Thea sat cross-legged beside her, swirling her glass of bourbon—neat, just like she'd drunk it in her past life.
Thea wore a soft black bralette and barely-there lounge shorts, both chosen more for comfort than style. Silver leg chains glinted on her bare thighs—one high, one low—like casual armor. A loose mesh cardigan hung off her shoulders, more accessory than clothing. Her obsidian-painted toes rested on the couch, relaxed. She wasn't dressing to impress—Thea just liked the feel of air on her skin.
She watched Laurel carefully, her expression unreadable.
"I just… can't believe they'd do this," Laurel slurred, her voice thick with betrayal. She gestured wildly with her wineglass, sloshing some onto the coffee table. "Sara knew how I felt about Oliver. And Oliver—god, he never could keep it in his pants."
Thea's grip tightened on her glass. She knew exactly how Laurel felt—except her hurt wasn't just about Oliver. It was about Sara choosing him over her. Over them.
"They're idiots," Thea said flatly, taking another sip of bourbon. "But you're better off without either of them."
Laurel let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Easy for you to say. You don't need anyone."
Thea arched an eyebrow. "And you do?"
Laurel's face twisted, and for a second, Thea thought she might cry again. Instead, Laurel took another long drink, then set the glass down with a clink. "You don't get it, Thea. You've always been… untouchable. Perfect grades, perfect family, perfect life. Meanwhile, I've spent years chasing after Oliver, pretending I didn't see the way he looked at other women, and now my own sister—" Her voice cracked.
Thea exhaled sharply. "My family isn't perfect, Laurel. And neither am I."
"Oh, please." Laurel rolled her eyes, swaying slightly as she leaned forward. "You're seventeen and already running Queen Consolidated. You could have anyone you want. You don't know what it's like to be second choice."
Thea's jaw clenched. "You think I wanted Sara to pick Oliver over me?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Laurel froze, her wineglass halfway to her lips. "Wait. You—you liked Sara?"
Thea didn't answer immediately. She took another slow sip of bourbon, letting the silence stretch. "Does it matter?"
Laurel's expression shifted—surprise, then something almost like sympathy. "Thea… I didn't know."
"No one did." Thea's voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. "Except Sara. And I'd prefer to keep it that way."
Laurel studied her for a long moment, then let out a slow breath. "God, we're a mess."
Thea smirked, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Understatement of the year."
Laurel laughed, the sound raw but genuine. Then, without warning, she leaned into Thea's space, her breath warm against Thea's cheek. "You know what the worst part is?" she murmured, her voice low. "I always envied you. You never let anyone see you hurt."
Thea's pulse spiked. Laurel's lips were inches away, her gaze unfocused but intense. For a reckless second, Thea considered closing the distance.
But then Laurel's fingers brushed against hers, and Thea jerked back, standing abruptly. "You're drunk, Laurel."
Laurel blinked, confusion flickering across her face. "Thea—?"
"Get some sleep." Thea was already at the door, her voice cool. "We'll pretend this didn't happen."
Laurel opened her mouth to protest, but Thea was already gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
The hallway outside was silent, the only sound the distant hum of the city. Thea exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. That had been… messy.
She pulled out her phone, scrolling absently through notifications before pausing on a text from Isabel:
"Meeting tomorrow. Don't be late."
Thea smirked, tucking the phone back into her pocket. At least that was predictable.
QC's IT dungeon, 11:23 PM. The air hums with server fans and the faint smell of overheated electronics. Felicity's workspace is a beautiful disaster - three monitors displaying code, a keyboard with WASD keys worn shiny, and a half-dismantled Raspberry Pi serving as a paperweight for a stack of overdue library books on quantum cryptography.
Felicity was mid-typo in her fourth Red Bull-fueled coding marathon when her intrusion detection system screamed bloody murder. Her neon-green manicured nails froze over the keyboard.
"No no no, not my baby—" She zoomed in on the alert. "Who the hell would—" Her eyes widened. "Oh! Oh no!!! That's the executive backdoor. That's the for emergencies only backdoor!!!"
She launched into a forensic frenzy, fingers blurring across the keyboard. "Okay, let's see you—clever girl, tunneling through the—oh that's nasty—wait is that a—" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "A Queen Consolidated digital watermark?"
A dry voice spoke from directly behind her: "Two minutes forty-seven seconds from breach detection to source identification. I'm impressed."
Felicity's chair spun so fast it nearly capsized. Standing in her cubicle was Thea Queen standing like a shadow carved from temptation and power. Her sheer black silk blouse hung open, swaying with each movement and revealing the delicate lines of a strappy black lace bralette underneath—more art than coverage. Her high-cut leather shorts clung low on her hips, baring the full length of her legs, one of which was adorned with a gleaming gold thigh chain that glinted beneath the office lights. Stiletto ankle boots emphasized every confident step, while layered gold necklaces draped down her chest, catching the light in sharp contrast to her bare skin. Her hair was loose and tousled, casually perfect, and her face was bare of any eye makeup—just skin, lashes, and that sharp, knowing gaze.
"You!" Felicity's voice cracked. "You're—you're—"
"The person who just walked through every single one of your security protocols?" Thea plucked Felicity's half-empty Red Bull from the desk and took a sip. Made a face. "Christ, how do you drink this? It tastes like regret and poor life choices."
Felicity's brain short-circuited. "You hacked your own company!"
"Penetration test," Thea corrected, setting the can down with a click. "And before you start hyperventilating—yes, completely legal. I had the board sign off on it. Well." She smirked. "Walter did. They don't know it was me."
Felicity's eyes darted to her monitors, then back to Thea. "But why—"
"Why did I do this?" Thea leaned against the desk, invading Felicity's personal space in the most distracting way possible. "It was a test - to see who's doing most of the heavy lifting around here. And I'm standing in front of you because while the rest of IT was chasing my decoy worm through the payroll system, you went straight for the money shot." She tapped Felicity's center monitor. "You saw through three layers of military-grade obfuscation in under three minutes. That's not just uncommon, Smoak - that's damn near impossible without your particular... talents."
Felicity swallowed hard. Thea smelled expensive - some dark, spicy perfume that made Felicity's pulse do funny things. "So this was... a job interview?"
"More of a live-fire exercise." Thea produced a sleek black USB drive from her pocket and set it deliberately next to Felicity's keyboard. "Your real interview starts now. I want to know everything on this by 8 AM tomorrow."
Felicity picked up the drive like it might explode. "What's on it?"
"If I knew that," Thea said, straightening up, "I wouldn't need you, would I?" She started walking away, then paused at the cubicle entrance. "Oh, and Felicity?"
"Y-yes?"
"Wear something nice tomorrow. You're meeting the board." Thea's smirk deepened. "Try to look surprised when I announce your promotion."
As Thea's stilettos clicked toward the elevators, Felicity became acutely aware of three unsettling realties: her hands trembled like she'd mainlined espresso, she'd apparently stopped breathing for a full forty seconds, and - most disturbingly - her stuffed penguin now sported a miniature QC security badge around its neck that definitely hadn't been there thirty seconds ago.
The first file that popped up was labeled: "Project Overwatch - Eyes Only."
Felicity's nervous gulp was audible in the empty office.
The flickering neon of the failing "Lucky Star" diner sign cast erratic shadows across the alley where Roy Harper crouched, counting his take from the day's pickpocketing. Seventeen dollars and some loose change - enough for a hot meal, maybe two if he stretched it. The worn leather wallet (some cheap department store brand) went into the dumpster - no point keeping evidence.
"You missed the twenty sewn into the lining."
Roy whirled, nearly losing his balance on the greasy pavement. The voice came from the alley's mouth where a girl—no, a young woman—stood silhouetted against the streetlights. As she stepped forward, the neon caught her in full.
Thea looked like she'd stepped out of a rebel fashion spread—one meant to startle more than seduce. A black cropped tank clung to her with barely-there straps and a neckline that dipped daringly low, exposing the full length of her toned midriff and the graceful line of her shoulders. Her low-rise denim shorts sat snug on her hips, the frayed edges riding high enough to reveal most of her long legs, with teasing side slits that made it hard not to stare. Over it all, she wore a short leather jacket, left unzipped, hanging more like a statement than a layer. A silver chain belt draped loosely around her waist, catching the dim light with every subtle shift of her stance. Her heeled boots thudded softly on the pavement, laced to mid-calf, her skin bare above them. A delicate body chain glittered faintly beneath the shadows, almost invisible but impossible to ignore once noticed. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, messy in that deliberate way that somehow made her look even more dangerous. No eye makeup, no pretense. Just sharp eyes, clear skin, and a presence that said she didn't need armor—her confidence was enough.
Roy recognized the sharp features of Thea Queen, though the way she carried herself was nothing like the society photos he'd seen in trashy tabloids.
"The hell, Queen?" Roy's hand drifted toward his pocket. "Don't you have, like, polo matches or whatever to attend?"
Thea moved with unsettling quietness for someone in designer boots. "It's an old gambler's trick," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Fold a bill into the seam of your wallet. Last resort money." Her eyes flicked to the dumpster. "Your mark was ex-military. Should've checked for that.")
Roy felt his face heat. "Yeah? And how would spoiled little Queenie know about street tricks?"
Something dangerous flashed in Thea's eyes. For a second, Roy thought she might hit him. Instead, she reached into her jacket and pulled out—
"Is that my—?"
"—switchblade?" Thea finished, flipping it open with practiced ease. "You should really keep better track of your weapons." She snapped it shut and tossed it back to him. "Especially when there's cops around."
Roy fumbled the catch. "What cop?"
"The one who just got distracted by a very convincing drunk outside the liquor store." Thea tilted her head. "You're quick, kid. But you're not careful."
Roy shoved the knife back in his pocket, trying to ignore how his hands shook. "Why do you even care?"
Thea studied him with an intensity that made Roy feel like a bug under glass. "Because at fourteen, you're already better than most of the thieves in the Glades. And by twenty, you'll either be dead or in prison."
"Gee, what a pep talk."
"It's an observation." Thea pulled a black business card from her pocket. "Tomorrow. 8 PM. The old steel mill off 52nd. You want to learn how to actually survive? Show up."
Roy eyed the card like it might bite him. "Why would I—"
"Because you're smart enough to know this city eats kids like you," Thea cut in, her voice suddenly sharp. "And because unlike everyone else who's looked at you today, I actually see you."
The card landed in the puddle between them. Roy stared at it, then up at Thea's retreating back.
"What if I don't?" he called after her.
Thea didn't break stride. "Then enjoy being invisible until you're not."
Roy waited until the click of her boots faded before snatching the card from the dirty water. The ink didn't run. Of course it didn't - Queen Consolidated didn't make cheap products.
He turned it over in his fingers. On the back, handwritten in precise script: "Don't be late. And don't get followed."
For the first time in his shitty life, Roy Harper smiled.
Isabel's apartment—cozy, dim lighting. A half-finished Scrabble game on the coffee table (Thea leading 312-278), empty Thai food containers, and a rom-com playing in the background.
Isabel slumped back on the couch, swirling her wine. Dressed in soft black leggings and an oversized gray hoodie that hung off one shoulder, she looked like she'd stepped out of a Pinterest board labeled "Effortlessly Hot Best Friend."
"I still think 'quixotic' should count as a word."
Thea smirked, stealing a spring roll from Isabel's plate. She was sprawled out in a dangerously tiny white mesh crop top that clung loosely to her chest, revealing almost everything beneath, with her bare skin exposed. High-rise, string-style thong bottoms clung to her hips, leaving little to the imagination and showing off far more thigh than was appropriate for game night. She was barefoot, her toes painted in a bold shade of red, her posture exuding confidence as she casually lounged in her minimal outfit, the very definition of "accidentally sinful."
"It is a word. Just not on your turn, when you're desperately trying to catch up."
Isabel flicked a blank tile at her. "Remind me why I invite you over again?"
"Because I'm delightful," Thea said, kicking her feet up onto the table, entirely unbothered by the way her shirt inched higher. "And because you love losing to me."
Isabel rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "Ugh, you're as bad as your father."
Thea paused, wineglass halfway to her lips. "...Wait. Was that a complaint or a compliment?"
Isabel suddenly found her wine very interesting. "...He was... charismatic, okay? In a 'brooding CEO' kind of way."
Thea's eyes widened. "Oh my god. You liked him."
"I was an intern!" Isabel threw her hands up, knocking over her Q tile. "He was my boss! It was a stupid crush!"
Thea cackled, nearly spilling her drink. "This is gold. Did you, like, practice your power walks in the hallway to impress him?"
Isabel groaned, covering her face with the Scrabble box lid. "I hate you."
"No, you don't," Thea sing-songed, poking her side. "You adore me. Just like you adored dear old Dad."
Isabel peeked out from behind the lid, glaring. "I will end you." She grabbed the dictionary. "Starting by proving 'qi' isn't a real word—"
"Chinese life force energy," Thea said smugly, "and worth 11 points."
For a second, the air between them crackled—Isabel's playful glare, Thea's triumphant smirk—before Thea flopped back against the couch. "Relax, Rochev. Your secret's safe with me."
Isabel huffed, but her lips twitched. "You're insufferable."
"And yet," Thea said, nudging Isabel's foot with her own, "here you are. Voluntarily."
Isabel didn't pull away. Instead, she slid the dictionary toward Thea with one finger. "...Double or nothing next round. If you win, I'll admit Robert Queen had nice... business acumen."
Thea's grin turned wicked. "And if I lose?"
"You finally admit 'za' shouldn't count as a word."
"Deal." Thea kicked Isabel's ankle lightly under the table. "Pour me another glass first. I want you fully conscious when I destroy you."
Isabel's laugh was all challenge as she reached for the wine. "Promises, promises."
Thea watched her pour, mischief dancing in her eyes. "You know, if you had a crush on Dad, does that make me, like, your forbidden stepdaughter fantasy?"
Isabel choked on her wine. "Oh my god—no. Absolutely not."
"You sure?" Thea wiggled her eyebrows. "Because I could call you 'Mommy' if you—"
"Finish that sentence and I'm throwing you out the window," Isabel threatened, but there was no real heat in it.
Thea grinned, unrepentant. "Kinky." She stretched, knocking over a few tiles. "Oops. Guess we'll have to start over."
Isabel narrowed her eyes. "Convenient."
"Tragic accident," Thea corrected, batting her eyelashes. "Unless you're scared of a fresh game?"
"Oh, please," Isabel scoffed. "I was going easy on you before."
"Sure you were," Thea said, reaching for the bag of tiles. "Just like you were 'just an intern' with Dad."
Isabel lunged for a pillow. "I swear to god—"
Thea ducked, laughing. "Violence? Really? And here I thought you were a dignified businesswoman."
"Dignity goes out the window when you're involved," Isabel muttered, but she was fighting a smile.
Thea plucked an 'X' tile from the bag and held it up like a trophy. "Ooh, this is gonna be good. Prepare to be annihilated."
Isabel leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Big talk for someone who once tried to play 'flirbs' as a word."
"Flirbs is valid!"
"It is not."
"It's the sound a flirty bird makes."
Isabel stared at her. "...What is wrong with you?"
Thea shrugged. "Genetics, probably. You tell me—you're the one who had a thing for my dad."
Isabel groaned, dropping her head onto the table. "I regret everything."
Thea patted her hair. "Too late now. You're stuck with me."
Isabel lifted her head just enough to glare. "...Wine me first. Then Scrabble. Then maybe I'll reconsider throwing you out."
Thea grinned, topping off both their glasses. "See? You do love me."
Isabel took a long sip, then sighed. "...Unfortunately."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**Author's Note:**
Sorry for the wait! Life got busy—exams just ended, travel aboardwith my parentsfor vacation, and the eternal struggle of *actually* writing instead of just daydreaming about Thea's questionable life choices.
But hey, we're back! Hope you enjoy the chaos, the banter, and Thea's relentless commitment to wearing as little as possible while still technically being dressed.
More soon(ish). Until then, happy reading!