A few days had passed, and Faro had grown comfortable living at Rita’s penthouse. That morning, he woke up early, grabbed his mountain bike—an expensive gift from his Aunty—and rode out into the city. He cycled for several kilometers, feeling the cool morning air against his skin, before finally heading back.
Arriving at the penthouse, he used his card key to enter, stepping inside with a relaxed breath. But then, he heard voices coming from the living room.
As he walked in, Albort stood near the entrance, his face unreadable. “We have guests, Master.”
Faro frowned and stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto the figures in the room. Sitting on the luxurious couch, sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits, were Mr. Clown and Flint. Rita sat across from them, her expression calm as if nothing was out of place.
Faro stiffened. His muscles tensed.
Faro’s steps slowed as he took in the scene before him. Mr. Clown, dressed in his usual flamboyant suit, sat comfortably on the plush sofa, lazily stirring his tea with an amused smirk. Flint lounged beside him, one arm draped over the back of the couch, his expression unreadable.
Rita, seated elegantly across from them, sipped her tea as if nothing were out of the ordinary. But Faro knew better. He could see the sharp glint in her eyes, the way her fingers subtly tapped against her cup—a silent warning.
Albort cleared his throat. “Master Faro, would you like me to bring you some tea as well?”
Faro ignored him, stepping further into the room, his gaze fixed on Mr. Clown. “What’s going on here?”
Mr. Clown grinned, setting his cup down on the saucer with an exaggerated clink. “Ah, Falcon himself! We were just having a friendly little chat.”
“Friendly?” Faro scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “Since when do we entertain snakes in this house?”
Flint chuckled darkly, lifting a biscuit to his mouth. “Easy, little brother. No need to be rude to our guest.”
Faro shot him a glare. “You’re the last person who should be telling me about manners, Flint.”
Faro attention locked on Rita. “Why are they here Aunty?”
Rita sighed, placing her cup down and standing up. She sauntered over to Faro, placing a hand on his chest to calm him. “Mr. Clown was just stopping by for a civil conversation. No need to make a scene, darling.”
Faro clenched his jaw, his muscles tense under her touch. “What kind of ‘civil conversation’ requires the presence of a murderer and a psychopath?”
Mr. Clown feigned a wounded expression. “Oh, Faro, such harsh words. I merely wanted to discuss… business.”
Faro’s fists clenched. “My Aunty don’t do business with murderers.”
Rita took a slow sip of her tea, then placed the cup down and stood, approaching him. She placed a firm but gentle hand on his chest. “Calm down, darling. They just came for tea.”
Faro scoffed. “Tea? You don’t just drink tea with snakes.”
Flint chuckled, lazily swirling his tea. “Relax, little brother. You’re always so dramatic.”
Faro’s jaw clenched. “Since when do we entertain the enemy in this house?”
Rita cut him off with a gentle squeeze on his chest. “Faro, let me handle this.” Her voice was smooth but firm, leaving no room for argument.
Faro glanced at her, his eyes searching hers. She wasn’t afraid. In fact, she seemed completely in control of the situation.
Mr. Clown chuckled. “Ah, see? Your dear Aunty understands how things work.” He stood, adjusting his suit clapped his hands together like a clown. “Well, this has been fun, but Flint and I should be going.” He turned to Rita, bowing slightly. “Thank you, lovely lady, for your hospitality.”
Flint stood as well, brushing imaginary crumbs off his pants. He turned to Faro, flashing him a crooked grin. “Take care, little brother. We’ll be seeing each other again soon.”
Faro didn’t respond.
Albort opened the door, and Faro silently watched them leave. The moment the door clicked shut, he turned to Rita. “Why did you even let them in?”
Rita sighed, walking over to pour herself another cup of tea. “Because Faro… when dealing with devils, sometimes it’s wiser to invite them inside and hear them out.”
Faro exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. He hated this game. But if there was one person who knew how to play it better than anyone, it was Rita Faros.
Albort, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, stepped forward. “Would you like some breakfast, Master Faro?”
Faro exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. “No. I just lost my appetite.”
He turned and walked toward his bedroom, tension coiling inside him. He had left for a peaceful bike ride, but now the morning had turned into something else. Mr. Clown and Flint had walked into his space, sipping tea like they belonged there. And that… did not sit right with him.
The Absence of Rita.
Rita went out right after Mr. Clown and Flint left, leaving Faro alone in the penthouse with Albort. The day passed slowly, and Faro found himself staring out the massive windows, thinking about Mr. Clown’s so-called business proposition. He didn’t like it. He knew Clown was always scheming, and now he was trying to get close to Rita.
Evening arrived, and Faro was still waiting when Rita finally returned, looking exhausted. She barely acknowledged him as she walked in, heading straight for her bedroom. Moments later, he heard the shower running.
Faro leaned back on the couch, exhaling. The penthouse felt different when Rita wasn’t around—colder, quieter. He had gotten used to her presence again these past few days.
By the time Rita emerged from her room, refreshed and wrapped in a silk robe, she seemed lighter. Running a hand through her damp hair, she called out, “Poggy! Come, boy! Let’s go for that evening walk.”
The little white Bolognese dog perked up instantly, wagging its tail furiously as it leaped toward her.
Faro saw his chance. “Mind if I join you?” he asked casually.
Rita glanced at him, one brow arching in amusement. “Since when do you care about evening walks?”
Faro shrugged. “Since now.”
Rita chuckled, shaking her head. “Fine. But keep up.”
With Poggy trotting eagerly ahead, the two stepped out into the crisp evening air. Thundarr City’s lights glowed in the distance, a stark contrast to the stillness of the quiet streets in Rita’s neighborhood.
As they walked, Faro stole glances at Rita. Even after a long day, she carried herself with the same effortless confidence. He had questions—about the deal with Clown, about why she seemed unbothered—but for now, he just wanted to enjoy this rare moment alone with her.
As they walked side by side down the quiet street, Faro glanced at Rita and asked, “How was your day? Busy at the office?”
Rita exhaled, stretching her neck slightly. “Exhausting, as always. Running the ‘Rita Enterprise’ empire isn’t a walk in the park, you know.”
Faro smirked. “Yeah, I figured. But you like it, don’t you? Being in control of everything?”
Rita chuckled, giving him a knowing look. “Of course. Power is addictive, Faro. The moment you stop running things, someone else will take over. I don’t plan on letting that happen.”
Faro nodded, then shifted the conversation to what had been on his mind since the morning. “So… what did Mr. Clown and Flint want?”
Rita’s expression hardened slightly, but she kept walking. “Business, as usual. Clown is always trying to get a bigger piece of the city, and Flint is just a rat trying to stay in the game.”
Faro narrowed his eyes. “What kind of business?”
Rita hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Clown proposed a joint venture. He wants to use my shipping network to move some ‘special cargo’ without interference from the D.E.C.”
Faro frowned. “You’re not actually considering it, are you?”
Rita smirked. “Relax, I know better than to get tangled too deep with Clown. But I didn’t reject him outright either. Keeping him entertained keeps him predictable.”
Faro exhaled. “I don’t trust him.”
Rita nodded. “Neither do I.”
They walked in silence for a while, Poggy sniffing at the sidewalk ahead of them. Faro finally spoke again. “And Flint? What’s his angle?”
Rita scoffed. “Same as always—he wants a piece of whatever power he can grab. But I made it clear he’s not in my league.”
Faro clenched his jaw. He knew Flint was dangerous, unpredictable. He also knew that Rita was more than capable of handling herself—but that didn’t stop him from worrying.
After a moment, Rita stopped and turned to him, studying his face. “You’ve been restless ever since you got back. What’s really on your mind, Faro?”
Faro hesitated, then looked at her seriously. “I just don’t want you getting too close to Clown. He’s not just a businessman—he’s a monster.”
Rita’s lips curled into a small smile. “And what do you think I am, my dear nephew?”
Faro didn’t answer. He just kept walking beside her, knowing that, despite everything, he would always be drawn back to her world—no matter how dark it got.
Clown Enterprise.
At Mr. Clown’s head office, the dimly lit room smelled of cigar smoke and expensive cologne. Mr. Clown leaned back in his oversized leather chair, swirling a glass of cola in his hand. Across from him, Flint sat with his legs crossed, tapping his fingers against the armrest.
Clown took a slow sip before asking, “So, were you able to place that hidden camera in Rita’s penthouse bedroom & bathroom when you excused yourself in the middle of the meeting?”
Flint grinned, pulling out a small device from his pocket and placing it on the desk. “Right where she won’t notice. That bathroom’s got some of the best angles. Should give us plenty of footage.”
Mr. Clown chuckled darkly, picking up the device and inspecting it. “Good. Very good. Rita likes to play tough, but everyone’s got weaknesses. Let’s see what secrets she’s hiding.”
Flint leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “What exactly are you looking for, Clown?”
Clown smirked. “Control. A woman like Rita thinks she’s untouchable. But once we have something on her—something she can’t afford to let the world see—she’ll have no choice but to dance to our tune.”
Flint nodded, his grin widening. “And what about Faro? He’s getting too comfortable at her place.”
Clown exhaled through his nose, a slow, sinister breath. “Faro is just a boy playing a man’s game. Let him think he’s safe. When the time is right, we’ll remind him who really owns this city.”
Flint chuckled. “I’d love to see that.”
Mr. Clown placed the camera device back down and reached for his cigar. “Patience, Flint. The show is just beginning.”
