Rita woke up to the golden morning light seeping through the luxurious curtains of her Pickadaily penthouse. She stretched lazily and rang the butler bell. Within moments, Albort arrived with her morning tea and a plate of biscuits, bowing slightly as he placed the tray on the bedside table.
“Albort,” Rita said, sipping her tea. “Wake up Faro. We have to leave for Thundarr Forest soon. The Pigmen are expecting us.”
Albort hesitated for a moment before responding. “Ma’am, Master Faro didn’t return home last night.”
Rita placed her cup down gently, though her emerald eyes flashed with something between concern and suspicion. “Did he inform you where he was going?”
“No, ma’am,” Albort said. “He left on his mountain bike yesterday evening, but he never came back.”
Rita took a long breath, contemplating. She had a gut feeling about where he might be, but she chose not to voice it just yet. Instead, she reached for the landline and dialed Cal’s Mansion.
After a few rings, Mrs. Wudsom answered, her tone as stiff as ever. “Cal Mansion residence.”
“It’s Rita. Is Faro there?”
There was a brief silence. Then, in a measured tone, Mrs. Wudsom replied, “One moment, ma’am.”
Rita tapped her nails against the wooden table, her mind racing. Then, Cal’s voice came through the receiver. “Mother?”
Rita leaned back against her headboard. “Cal, I’m looking for Faro. Is he with you?”
Cal exhaled sharply. “Why would my cousin be here? I haven’t seen him. Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing—Ronda didn’t come home last night, and she’s not picking up her phone.”
Rita’s grip on the receiver tightened slightly. She had suspected it, but now she was almost sure—Faro and Ronda had been together last night. Still, she kept her voice composed.
“Well,” she said smoothly, “maybe Faro was trying to find you. He was out late and never returned. If you hear from him, let me know.”
“I will,” Cal said, though his voice carried a hint of irritation. “And if you hear from Ronda, let her know I’m looking for her.”
“I’ll do that,” Rita said before hanging up.
She sat in silence for a moment, tapping her fingers on the table. If her suspicions were correct, then Faro was making a dangerous mistake—one that could put him at odds with Cal, with Ronda, and with forces neither of them could control.
Little did anyone know, Faro and Ronda had secretly met up last evening. Faro had biked his way to Southbank while Ronda took the Metrorail, both arriving at Southbank Metro Station. The two of them had rented a discreet motel in the same area where Ronda’s old apartment once was. There, they spent the night together, indulging in their desires, rekindling something that should have been left in the past.
Now, as morning broke, they remained hidden from the world, unaware that suspicion was already creeping closer.
But unbeknownst to them, someone had seen everything.
Flint Faros, the twisted and dangerous brother of Faro, had also checked into the same motel. He had rented a larger suite for himself and three of his enslaved girls for a night of debauchery. As he was heading to his room, he caught a glimpse of Faro and Ronda at the front desk, checking in together. He smirked to himself, realizing he had just uncovered a secret that could be used to his advantage.
Leaning against the wall in the hallway, he lit a cigarette and chuckled darkly. “Well, well… little brother, you’ve been a naughty boy. This should be interesting…”
The Morning After.
Flint arrives at Cal Mansion in his sleek black car, stepping out with an air of confidence. He is greeted by Mrs. Wudsom, who eyes him suspiciously.
“Mr. Flint, what brings you here so early?” she asks.
Flint smirks. “Just came to have a little chat with Cal. He in?”
Mrs. Wudsom hesitates but then nods. “He’s in the study. Follow me.”
Flint follows her inside, his mind replaying the events of the previous night. He saw Faro and Ronda check into the motel, but he wasn’t planning on telling Mr. Clown—at least not yet. This was information he could use for himself.
As he steps into Cal’s study, he finds Cal sipping his morning coffee, reviewing some documents.
“Flint,” Cal says, looking up. “Didn’t expect to see you here. What’s the occasion?”
Flint takes a seat across from him, leaning back casually. “Let’s just say… I came across some interesting information last night. Thought you might want to know.”
Cal raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And what might that be?”
Flint grins. “It’s about your little girlfriend, Ronda.”
Cal narrows his eyes, setting his coffee down. “What about her?”
Flint chuckles. “Relax, pal. I just happened to be at a certain motel last night… and guess who else was there?”
Cal’s expression darkens. “You better not be playing games with me, Flint.”
Flint leans forward. “Oh, I’m not. Faro was there. With Ronda. They checked in together.”
Cal’s jaw tightens, and his grip on the coffee cup stiffens. He exhales sharply, trying to mask his emotions.
Flint watches him carefully. “I thought you’d like to know. Now, what you do with this information? That’s up to you.”
Cal remains silent for a moment before finally speaking. “Thanks for stopping by, Flint. That’ll be all.”
Flint smirks, standing up. “Suit yourself. But if you ever need more… details, you know where to find me.”
As he walks out of the mansion, he can’t help but grin. The seeds of chaos had been planted, and now he just had to sit back and watch them grow.
Ronda’s Denial.
Ronda arrives at Cal Mansion late afternoon, stepping through the grand entrance with confidence. She had just come from a spa visit, looking refreshed and dressed elegantly in a tight black dress and heels. She wasn’t expecting any drama—until she saw Cal standing in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, his expression dark.
“Cal?” she says, slowing down. “What’s wrong?”
Cal steps forward, his eyes locked onto hers. “You tell me, Ronda.”
She blinks, feigning innocence. “What are you talking about?”
Cal clenches his jaw, his fingers tightening into a fist. “Flint came by this morning. Said he saw you and Faro at a motel last night.”
Ronda’s heart skips a beat, but she quickly masks her shock with outrage. “Flint?” she scoffs, folding her arms. “You’re taking the word of a known liar and criminal over me?”
Cal doesn’t flinch. “So you’re saying he’s lying?”
“Damn right, I am!” Ronda shouts, stepping closer. “I can’t believe you, Cal! After everything we’ve been through, you’re actually listening to that scumbag?”
Cal’s eyes narrow. “Then where were you last night?”
Ronda scoffs again. “Out! Am I not allowed to have my own life? Or do I need to report my every move to you?”
Cal steps even closer, his voice low. “Just answer the question, Ronda.”
She glares at him, her mind racing. “I was with some friends, okay? Shopping, then drinks. You can even ask them.”
Cal studies her face, looking for any sign of a lie. “So you weren’t with Faro?”
Ronda’s eyes widen in mock shock. “Cal, are you serious right now? You’re acting paranoid! First, you believe Flint, and now you’re accusing me of sneaking around with your cousin?”
Cal shakes his head. “I just want the truth.”
Ronda throws up her hands. “This is insane! I can’t believe I’m being interrogated in my own home!” She turns sharply. “I need some air.”
She storms toward the door, heels clicking aggressively on the marble floor.
Cal watches her go, his expression unreadable. He wanted to believe her, but something in his gut told him she wasn’t telling the whole truth.
Rita’s Warning.
Faro sat across from his aunt in the lavish dining room of her penthouse, a cup of steaming tea in his hands. The late evening light poured in through the large windows, illuminating the elegant furniture and the slight smirk on Rita’s face. She had been watching him since he walked in earlier, and Faro could tell she knew something.
He took a sip of his tea, trying to act normal, but Rita’s piercing green eyes never left him. She finally spoke, her voice smooth yet sharp.
“You had quite the night, didn’t you, darling?” she mused, stirring her tea with a silver spoon.
Faro kept his face neutral. “Just needed some time alone,” he said, keeping it vague.
Rita chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, come now. Do you think you can fool me, sweetheart? I know exactly where you’ve been. And I know who you were with.”
Faro’s grip on his teacup tightened slightly. He knew denying would be pointless.
Rita leaned in, her gaze unwavering. “You’re playing with fire, my dear boy. And if you keep this up, you’ll get burned—badly.”
Faro exhaled, setting down his cup. “Ronda made her choice to be with Cal, but now she’s realizing money isn’t everything. She—”
“—She’s a cold-blooded murderer,” Rita interrupted, her voice now laced with an edge. “And she left you for wealth, didn’t she? Now she’s crawling back, and you’re letting her.”
Faro looked away, jaw clenched.
Rita sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Listen to me, Faro. You think you have control, but you don’t. If Cal finds out, if Mr. Clown finds out, even if Flint finds out—this won’t end well for you or her.”
Faro ran a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. “I can handle myself, Aunty.”
Rita let out a knowing laugh. “Oh, I don’t doubt your abilities, sweetheart. But love—lust—is a battlefield you’re not ready for.” She leaned in again, lowering her voice. “How do you think Cal would react if he knew the woman he sleeps next to was in a motel bed with you last night?”
Faro said nothing.
Rita smirked. “That’s what I thought.” She took a sip of her tea, then set it down gently. “So tell me, love—how long before you decide if this little game of yours is worth the risk?”
Faro remained silent, staring into his cup. Deep down, he knew she was right. But walking away from Ronda… that was easier said than done.
