The Cracks Beneath the Surface

The rain continued to fall outside, weaving a cold rhythm against the windows. Gina sat beside Dave at the dining table, her body angled slightly toward him, yet her mind already continents away. The earlier storm between them had settled into a silence charged with fragile hope—but Gina was a woman who knew better than to trust silence.

Dave looked tired. Honest. Still the same man who had once played her favorite song on a rooftop just to see her smile. She watched the tension in his jaw as he drank from a chipped mug—he didn't know yet. Couldn't. The truth she carried could crack the foundation he thought they were just beginning to rebuild.

She had learned to master the art of emotional mimicry. Play soft. Play hurt. But behind her sapphire eyes lived someone else. Someone forged in fire. Someone who didn't just survive betrayal—she dominated it.

"I'll tell Davina soon," she said softly, sipping her tea.

Dave nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want to scare her. I just… want her to know me."

Gina reached for his hand and touched it lightly. "You will."

He smiled, and she gave it back—perfect, poised. But deep within, her mind shifted gears. Her grip on her empire couldn't falter now, not with Dave's father, Richard Lansing, still breathing. He thought he owned the board. But he had no idea the queen had long since rewritten the rules.

As Dave headed into the kitchen to fetch another mug, Gina slipped her phone out from under the table, shielded it with her palm, and typed a message in encrypted code:

"Lansing Senior is still a threat. Proceed with slow dismantling. Eyes on him. No action without direct orders. —Mistress G."

A second later, the message disappeared, self-wiped.

She tucked the phone back in her robe just as Dave returned, smiling, oblivious.

Outside, the thunder rolled again—low and slow. A warning.