Chapter Six
Daughters of a Thief
The Yran estate was colder than Rayna remembered.
She walked the marble halls with silent footsteps, heels echoing like warnings. Her gaze swept past the crystal chandeliers and faded family portraits that hung like ghosts along the walls. These walls had heard her sob. These staircases had seen her bleed. But now, they saw something else:
A woman reborn.
"Madam Yran," a staff member greeted her with a hurried bow.
Rayna barely acknowledged him. Her hands were gloved, her trench coat pristine, her expression unreadable. Alon walked a few steps behind, silent as a shadow. This confrontation—he said—was hers alone.
She entered the old lounge room and found them waiting.
Dakila was sprawled lazily across the velvet settee in a silver dress that sparkled like deceit. Divina stood by the minibar, pouring herself wine at eleven in the morning.
Both looked up—and froze.
"Wow," Divina said first, her voice tight. "So it's true. The dead really do walk."
Dakila narrowed her eyes. "We thought you'd be in a wheelchair. Or at least uglier."
Rayna smiled politely. "Disappointed?"
"Surprised," Dakila said. "You've got some nerve coming back here."
"This house belongs to me," Rayna replied coolly. "Everything in it does."
"According to whom?" Divina snapped.
"My father's will. The law. And your own mother's confession, which is being reviewed by federal investigators."
Divina's glass slipped slightly. "You're bluffing."
"I'm not."
A House of Mirrors
Rayna walked slowly around the room, letting her voice cut like glass.
"You used my clothes. My name. My father's fortune. You spent years humiliating me, treating me like dirt. But you forgot something: I watched you. I listened. I wrote everything down."
Dakila stood, face flushed. "You think you can just walk in here and erase what happened?"
Rayna turned to her. "No. I'm not here to erase anything. I'm here to burn it all down."
Divina scoffed. "We're not afraid of you."
"You should be."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, leather-bound journal—the one from beneath her old floorboard.
"Let me remind you," she said, flipping it open. "June 6th, age sixteen: Divina locked me in the pantry overnight. Dad was out of town. I missed school and nearly passed out from dehydration. You laughed about it the next morning."
Divina flinched.
"July 14th, age seventeen: Dakila ripped my acceptance letter from the university and told the staff I didn't need it. Claimed I was too stupid for college."
Rayna's voice grew colder.
"And January 10th, age twenty: you both signed forged papers to sell off my mother's jewelry to pay for a trip to Milan."
The room was silent. Even the wind outside seemed to hold its breath.
Offer or War
"You don't belong here," Dakila said through gritted teeth.
Rayna looked her dead in the eyes. "Neither do you."
She reached into her coat and pulled out two envelopes.
"One for each of you," she said. "Inside: a release agreement. You leave the estate. You lose all claims to the Yran name and properties. In return, I give you each a generous settlement—enough to start over somewhere far from here."
Dakila took hers and tore it open. Her jaw tightened. "This is blackmail."
"It's mercy," Rayna said.
Divina's lip curled. "You're giving us hush money."
"No," Rayna corrected. "I'm giving you one last chance to walk away with your pride and your bones intact."
"What if we refuse?"
Rayna smiled. "Then I will drag every secret you've buried into the light. Every document you signed. Every lie. I'll make sure your future husbands, your jobs, your friends—all know exactly who you are."
Silence.
Then Divina hissed, "Bitch."
Rayna stepped closer. "That's CEO Bitch, to you."
Back to the Villa
That night, Rayna sat by the fireplace at the villa, staring into the flames.
Alon poured them both a drink and handed her a glass.
"You did well today," he said. "Calm. Ruthless. Focused."
"I hated every second of it," she whispered. "I wanted to scream. Cry. Burn the whole place down."
"But you didn't," he said. "And that's why you're winning."
She looked at him over the rim of her glass. "Have you always been this good at war?"
"No," Alon said softly. "I just know what it takes to survive one."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Rayna asked, "Do you ever feel like you're becoming someone you don't recognize?"
"All the time."
She turned back to the fire. "I wonder what my father would say if he saw me now."
Alon leaned closer. "He'd say: it's about time."
Carmelita's Weapon
Elsewhere in the city, Carmelita sat in a dark study surrounded by old photographs and legal papers.
Her once flawless hair was streaked with gray. Her eyes were sunken. But her rage? That burned brighter than ever.
"She's back. She's everywhere," she hissed, pacing. "I gave that little girl everything—and she spits in my face."
Dakila and Divina stood in silence.
"I'm not going to jail for her," Divina said. "I'm not going down."
Carmelita stopped pacing.
"No one is going to jail. Because I still have something she doesn't."
She pulled a small black box from a locked drawer.
Inside was a birth certificate.
Divina frowned. "What is that?"
Carmelita smiled slowly.
Rayna investigates her father's death more closely
Brian visits the Yran estate without telling her
Carmelita makes her first move with the mysterious "truth" she holds
Rayna begins unraveling the mystery behind her father's death
Brian makes a risky move behind her back
Carmelita reveals the weapon she's been hiding all along
Chapter Six (continued)
Daughters of a Thief
The Letter with No Return Address
Rayna stared at the old folder left behind by Mr. Salazar. It had taken days to build the nerve to open it fully.
She sat at her father's old desk in the villa, a soft lamp casting shadows across the heavy wood. The folder contained his will, estate documents… and one envelope marked in his handwriting:
In case I don't live long enough to tell you.
Her hands trembled.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Rayna,
If something happens to me, know that it wasn't an accident. I have made enemies by protecting what belongs to you. There are things Carmelita doesn't know I've hidden. Look beneath the second tile in my study. Do not trust anyone—not even Salazar.
–Dad
Rayna shot to her feet.
Alon looked up from across the room. "What is it?"
"My father left me a message. He suspected Carmelita would kill him."
The Hidden Safe
They arrived at the old Yran mansion under cover of darkness.
Rayna wore black gloves. Alon had made calls to ensure security wouldn't interfere. Her hands felt numb as she stepped into her father's study—once a place of wisdom and comfort, now stripped and faded.
She walked to the fireplace and counted: one, two, three… second tile.
With a knife, she pried it loose.
A small black metal box stared back at her.
She lifted it out, heart pounding.
Inside were several USB drives and a folded document labeled:
"Account #487 – Custody Transfer Request – Emergency Only."
Rayna's eyes narrowed. "This… this is proof."
She turned to Alon. "If this is what I think it is, my father was trying to legally remove Carmelita from any access—even guardianship—just days before he died."
Alon took a photo of the document and sent it to his legal team instantly.
"This might be enough to reopen the case of his death."
Rayna didn't speak. She was already thinking ahead.
A Visit She Didn't Approve
Elsewhere, Brian stood outside the estate's side gate, his hands tucked into his jacket.
He hadn't told Rayna he was coming. She had enough on her plate. But he needed to see the place again. Needed to understand the battlefield she'd been living in all those years.
The estate looked lifeless now. Weeds had crept into the once-manicured lawns. The marble lions guarding the entrance were chipped and weathered. But the pain still lived here—he could feel it in the air.
He found one of the former maids sweeping the back steps.
She gasped when she saw him. "Sir Brian? Is it really you?"
He smiled. "Yes. I came to… check in. To understand."
She hesitated. Then motioned for him to follow.
"There's something I think you should see," she whispered.
The Hidden Room
The maid led Brian to a hallway on the third floor, just behind what had once been Rayna's old bedroom.
"There used to be a second nursery here," she said, pulling aside a tapestry. "No one ever talked about it. But I heard things."
Brian squinted into the dark corner.
Behind the wall, she pried open a panel. Dust choked the air. Inside was a narrow hidden room with toys, old books, and…
A second crib.
Brian blinked. "Was there… another child?"
"I don't know," the maid whispered. "But Carmelita made sure no one ever came here."
Brian's pulse quickened.
Was this the secret Carmelita was hiding?
He stepped into the room, fingers brushing a photo frame. The glass was cracked—but the picture inside was clear.
It was a man, not Mr. Yran.
Holding a baby.
The Other Birth Certificate
Back in the city, Carmelita sat at a table with a man in a dark suit. The room reeked of secrecy—cigars, locked drawers, old money. She slid the black envelope across the table.
"I want you to release this only if she tries to take me to court."
The man opened it and raised an eyebrow. "This changes everything."
"I know."
"This will destroy her image."
"Not just her image," Carmelita said, lighting a cigarette. "Her identity."
(Word count so far: ~3,400)
Next section coming up:
Rayna investigates the documents further with Alon
Brian confronts her about the second nursery
Carmelita prepares a press attack to ruin Rayna publicly