Chapter Three - The Silence Before The War.

The morning tasted like suspicion.

Oma leaned against the kitchen island, coffee mug untouched, the rim stained with cherry gloss. Around her, the girls trickled in—messy buns, silk robes, eyes still half-laced with sleep, but sharp beneath the lashes. None of them had slept easy. Not after that.

On the table, the note sat like a curse.

Game on.

Regg was the first to break the silence. "So we just… pretend this isn't a threat?"

Madi scoffed, pulling her hair up. "It's not a threat. It's a fucking invitation."

"From a man we barely made eye contact with?" Tessie muttered. "He didn't say a word. Didn't touch us."

Juliette's voice was low, but pointed. "He stared at Oma. Twice. First at the entrance. Then on the balcony."

Everyone's eyes shifted.

Oma set the mug down—still untouched. "So what? It's not a crime to stare."

"No," Ether said, pushing off the wall, "but it's weird as hell that the same man who gave you that creepy-ass eye tango left us a note... and now we're talking about walking into his company like it's the goddamn candy store."

Vee murmured, "We're not walking in. We're infiltrating."

"But he'll recognize us," Debby snapped, her voice sharp with nerves. "He saw us. Don't act like he didn't clock every single one of us."

"Especially you," Pesha said to Oma, tone light but edged. "He basically undressed you with his eyes."

Isolde—half asleep, always listening—muttered into her cup, "We're going to the lion's den with perfume and high heels."

A beat of silence.

And then Regg, calm and lethal: "Then we make the lion fall in love with the perfume."

---

The surveillance room was dim again—curtains drawn, screens flickering with paused footage, their reflections tense in the glass.

Mia stood at the center, arms crossed over her tank top, eyes locked on the paused frame of the gloved hand leaving the note on their doorstep. Her voice was quiet, but cold. "So, we're all agreeing to do this?"

Regg didn't flinch. "We've done worse."

"That's not the point," Juliette said, leaning over the blueprint of Kaine London's company building. "This isn't just worse. This is personal. He's playing chess, and we don't even know which piece we are yet."

"He's not expecting us to move first," Madi added. "He thinks we'll run. Hide. Be scared."

"Well, joke's on him," Vee smirked, "we don't scare easy."

Tessie circled a spot on the blueprint with a red marker. "There. Backdoor security logs show a pattern—new hires are sent through a private clearance office. Minimal contact, one-on-one orientation. No Kaine. No big eyes watching."

"Except his entire damn building probably has cameras," Ether replied dryly.

Oma hadn't spoken much. But now she did, low and uncertain. "You really think he'd let us walk in unnoticed? After the note? After the party?"

Silence again.

Pesha broke it, her voice surprisingly gentle. "We don't want to go unnoticed. We want him to underestimate us."

"And we'll get hired," Regg added. "Fake credentials, elite backgrounds, we'll pose as a security consultancy firm—say we specialize in high-risk corporate assets."

Juliette grinned. "Let's make him think we're the good kind of dangerous."

Mia's lips curled slightly. "And when he finally does notice us…"

Debby finished, dark and sweet: "It'll be too late."

---

The apartment was dim but buzzing with low voices and tension. Mia stood by the kitchen counter, her fingers drumming against a cold cup of coffee, while the rest of the girls were spread across the living room, forming a messy circle of bodies, blankets, and paranoia.

"So," Regg muttered, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the white note still pinned on the wall.

"Game on." She scoffed. "What a sick bastard."

"He stared at Oma like he already knew," Madi said, pacing. "At the party. Slipped her that note… then left that at our doorstep? That's not coincidence."

Oma sat silent on the arm of the couch, jaw clenched. "He didn't talk to me," she said sharply. "He just looked. Like—like he was figuring something out."

"Exactly," Juliette chimed in. "If he locked eyes with even one of us, then we're known. Walking into his company is walking straight into the lion's den, blindfolded and naked."

Mia turned to face them, her tone low and certain. "Which is why only three of us go. And not as ourselves."

"You mean like what? Holograms?" Pesha snorted.

"No, genius," Regg said dryly. "Cover IDs. Full background. New firms. We walk in as consultants, not as us."

"That's assuming his security won't run deep scans," Ether added.

"Which is why we'll use real names. Just not ours," Mia answered. "We'll buy identities. Real lives. People who exist. Everything will check out."

They were quiet for a moment.

Then Ann raised a brow. "Who goes?"

Regg stepped forward. "I will. I already studied their cybersecurity and HR layout. I'll go in through their internal systems as a consultant on threat mitigation."

"And I'll go in as a finance strategist," Madi added. "I'll have access to the money trail. If we're going to find what he's hiding, it'll be there."

Juliette leaned back, exhaling. "Then I'm in. PR. That way, I can get close to any partnerships or contracts he doesn't want public."

"And Oma?" Iffy asked slowly.

Everyone looked at her.

"He already saw her," Regg said firmly. "She's off the field for now."

Oma didn't argue. But her jaw tightened.

"So we walk in, act normal, and dig." Mia finalized. "If he recognizes you—we pull you out immediately. No hero stunts. No distractions. Understand?"

They nodded.

But the weight of what they were planning settled thick over the room.

They were walking into a devil's empire pretending to be sheep.

---

The day faded gently into gold, washing the Valerio villa in warm tones of fading sunlight. From the arched windows, Monaco shimmered beneath them — quiet, opulent, watching. Inside, there was no chaos, no urgency. Just a hum. A slow, constant hum of something creeping closer.

In the kitchen, the heart of the house, Debby leaned into the stove's heat, expertly flipping vegetables in a sizzling pan. The air was thick with the buttery scent of garlic, basil, and browned meat. Pesha moved like a whisper beside her, gliding between counters, reaching for spice jars, tasting sauces, adding a pinch more salt with a grace that came from muscle memory.

"I don't care how calm they look," Debby muttered, lowering the heat. "If I were going into that man's company tomorrow, I'd have slept with a knife under my pillow."

Pesha gave a small smirk. "They'll be fine. You know Regg. She's the ice in the veins of this family."

Debby chuckled, reaching for the wine glass beside her. "Still doesn't mean we shouldn't light candles for backup."

The upstairs lounge was quiet, drenched in the golden glow from floor-length drapes that had been pulled aside. Regg was reclined back into a thick suede chair, her legs crossed in sharp confidence, but her eyes flicked between two tablets with the speed of someone processing ten thoughts at once.

Across from her, Madi sat low on the velvet sofa, head tilted, arms resting on her knees. Her voice was low and calculated.

"So we go in, we don't flinch. No mention of Monaco. Nothing about the house."

Regg's fingers swiped across the tablet. "I triple-checked our new records. They'll check our faces, but not our history. It's clean."

Juliette entered silently, her feet bare, her silk robe brushing softly against her knees. She held a cup of tea, the steam trailing in front of her lips as she glanced between them.

"You two act like this is a military operation," she said, half amused.

Madi raised an eyebrow. "It is."

Juliette sat beside her. "Just remember… it's not a mission unless someone forgets the plan."

They all laughed — brief, low, a release of the mounting tension neither of them wanted to admit was there.

Elsewhere in the villa, life moved more lightly.

In the parlor, soft music played from a vintage speaker. Oma, curled into the corner of the couch, scrolled absently through a magazine she hadn't turned a page of in fifteen minutes. Ann was nearby, perched on the armrest, sipping from a flute of something pink and bubbling. Mia, still restless, stood at the glass doors that opened to the terrace, watching the city lights flicker on one by one.

"Do you think Kaine's going to flirt with them?" Ann asked suddenly, her voice teasing.

Oma looked up. "He's not stupid enough to flirt with Regg."

Mia turned her head slightly, one eyebrow arched. "If he touches any of them, I'm setting his penthouse on fire."

They all laughed — Ann the loudest, Oma a quiet chuckle, and Mia with a flat, deadpan grin that made them think she wasn't entirely joking.

In the upstairs office, Ether and Iffy had abandoned screens for now. They sat with their legs stretched out, headphones in, each listening to music but sharing a single speaker. A laptop on the desk blinked softly with half-open files, the screen paused mid-scroll on Kaine's security protocols. They'd already gone through the logistics hours ago.

Now, they were just... waiting.

Back in the hallway bathroom, chaos and color ruled. Tessie sat cross-legged on a stool, strands of wet hair dripping rich plum dye onto her towel-wrapped shoulders. Behind her, Vee stood with gloved hands and a half-covered grin, her own dark roots smudged with bleach.

"You really think I should keep the pink streak?" Vee asked, eyeing the mirror.

"You're not the one going undercover," Tessie replied, voice muffled under the towel around her neck. "You can go rainbow if you want."

"I just want to make Kaine's HR wonder if I'm a pop star."

"You're not going to Kaine's office," Tessie reminded her with a smirk. "Regg, Madi, and Juliette are. The rest of us are just playing house till the alarms go off."

Dinner was ready just as the sky slipped into lavender.

The dining room came alive with clinking forks and subtle conversation. Bowls of spiced rice, grilled chicken, seasoned greens, and rich sauces decorated the long walnut table. Debby and Pesha had laid it out beautifully — candles glowing low, glasses full, steam curling into the air.

The girls filled the room slowly, taking their seats with lazy grace. Laughter sparked here and there. No one talked strategy. No one said "tomorrow." But it hung above them, unspoken, thick in the air like perfume.

"You sure you want to go in blonde?" Tessie asked Juliette lightly.

Juliette shrugged as she spooned food onto her plate. "Blondes are harder to remember. I'm aiming for forgettable."

"Then Madi better leave the heels at home," Vee chimed in.

"You say that like I own flats," Madi muttered from the end of the table.

They laughed again.

Regg barely spoke. Her eyes swept over everyone, watchful, calm. Her silence was louder than most voices.

Mia eventually raised a glass, not to toast, but to hold it up like a warning. "No one talks about tomorrow. No fear. No second-guessing."

The room nodded in agreement.

But beneath the laughter, beneath the light conversation and half-teasing smiles, was a shared awareness. A quiet readiness. They were sending three of their own into the lion's den.

And whether Kaine London recognized them or not — it was the first move on the board.

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To Be Continued.......