Chapter 3 - The Pool

Lilia POV

I kept telling myself it was just rain.

The limousine, the umbrella, her piercing gaze slicing through the downpour—everything felt dreamlike, like a memory I shouldn’t have had. By morning, exhaustion had rendered it unimportant. I put that memory in a corner of my mind that was only used for nightmares and ghost stories, a place I never planned to go back to.

Life insisted I forget.

And so I did.

There were too many dishes piling up, groceries to stretch, and shifts that dragged on forever. Whenever my mother coughed in her sleep or my siblings asked if everything would be alright, I never considered how her face looked during those moments.

But across town, in a realm of glass chandeliers and velvet secrets, her night was already falling apart.

Lisa Callahan entered Samuel King’s private estate with her customary elegance, although inside, she felt a tightness in her chest.

The pool shimmered softly under lantern light, casting ripples across the marble floor. A table was set nearby with two glasses, a bottle of red wine, and a candle flickering between them. It would have looked romantic if there had ever been romance between them.

Samuel was already there, hands casually in his pockets, his tall frame outlined against the glow of the water. His black suit fit him like armor, every line sharp, his jaw more so. He didn’t budge as she neared.

“You called for me,” she said, her tone cool and clipped.

“I did,” he replied, his eyes following her, unreadable. “Have a seat.”

Lisa’s heels clicked as she sat across from him. A waiter poured wine, bowed, and slipped away. 

For a moment, the only sound was the gentle rippling of the water.

“You look stunning tonight,” Samuel remarked eventually. His tone felt less like a compliment and more like a statement of fact.

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Stunning enough to make this marriage feel less like a life sentence?

”

His jaw tightened. “This marriage is essential.”

“Essential.” She chuckled softly, lifting her glass. “For whom? My parents, scrambling to keep their company afloat? "Or is it yours, as you want to keep the king's empire untouchable?"

“Both.” His gaze remained steady, as solid as a wall she couldn’t penetrate. “It’s not about desire, Lisa. It’s about power.”

She sipped her wine, a smirk forming. “Sounds like a man more in love with his empire than with his wife.”

Samuel didn’t show any reaction, but his silence said enough.

Lisa leaned in, lowering her voice. “Let’s cut the charade, Samuel. You don’t want me, and I certainly don’t want you. But here we are, mere pawns on a chessboard built by people who’d rather die than lose a piece of their wealth.”

“Then just accept it,” Samuel replied flatly.

Lisa tilted her glass, watching the wine swirl. “I’ll accept it, but I’m not leaving this table until I finish my drink.”

Neither of them noticed the shadow lurking by the hedge.

Petra.

A smile tugged at her lips as she observed, the pool’s glow illuminating her as if she were a hidden goddess. She moved through the estate as if she owned it; no one dared question her.

Wealth infused her words, her smile, and her very being.

From the very beginning, she had despised Lisa Callahan.

Lisa had everything Petra had ever desired: Samuel’s affection, his last name, and a glittering position by his side. Petra had once imagined life, engulfing herself in the fantasy as if it were silk. Then Lisa showed up, coldly beautiful and backed by a powerful family, sweeping it all away with a signature on a marriage contract.

Petra never forgave.

So when the chance arose, she made the right connections: a waiter, a glass, and a tasteless powder that dissolved into the wine, just enough to cloud thoughts, weaken limbs, and soften the world into a haze. Lisa would leave the estate woozy and unsteady, her car waiting to finish the tale.

But then Samuel drank.

Petra’s heart sank.

Not him. This was not how she wanted it to go for him.

Samuel grabbed the glass, and before Lisa could react, he tilted it to his lips, downing half the wine in a single gulp.

Lisa froze.

“Now we can leave, right?” Samuel stated, his voice as sharp as the glass clicking against the table.

Lisa’s smirk faltered. Almost defiantly, she reached for the stem again and drained the rest.

The first hint of dizziness crept in softly. Lisa blinked, her throat tightening as if the air had thickened. Her hand instinctively went to her temple, pressing.

Across from her, Samuel shifted in his seat, his jaw clenched as he steadied himself against the table. His movements began to lose their precision, growing sluggish.

“What did you… put in this?” he rasped.

Lisa shook her head, half laughing. “Don’t look at me like that. I—" Her words tangled, becoming slurred.

Samuel pushed back from the table, but his legs betrayed him. He stumbled, crashing against the table’s edge before falling to the floor. The candle toppled, wax spilling across the linen as flames sputtered out with a hiss.

Lisa stood, unsteady, her heels clattering against the tiles. She swayed toward the gate, murmuring, “Air… I need air…”

That’s when Petra stepped forward.

The two women locked eyes under the flickering lantern light.

Lisa’s gaze, sharp even through the haze, narrowed. “You—what are you doing here?”

Petra’s lips formed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Watching. Waiting.”

Lisa blinked hard, trying to focus her vision. “You shouldn’t—”

“You’ve already taken what was mine,” Petra hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “But you won’t live to keep it.”

Lisa tilted her head. She attempted to step back, but the drugs had already dulled her limbs. Her body swayed, fragile and unsure.

Petra’s hand shot forward.

The shove was sharp and merciless.

Lisa stumbled, her heel catching on the tile’s edge. Her arms flailed momentarily in a desperate attempt to regain balance before the pool engulfed her.

The splash echoed across the estate, shattering the silence.

Lisa’s body twisted beneath the water, her arms flailing weakly, legs moving out of sync. Bubbles streamed from her mouth as she gasped for air, but the drug had stolen her strength. Her hands reached upward, breaking the surface once, twice, before slipping below once more.

Above, Petra watched, her chest heaving, but she didn’t flinch.

When Lisa’s struggles slowed, when the water stilled into ripples, Petra finally turned away.

She moved with purpose, her heels clicking against the marble. She knew the estate’s layout well. She spotted the camera near the pool and, with practiced ease, tugged the wires free. 

Darkness consumed the lens.

By the time she slipped out, her expression was calm, as if she had merely attended a party.

Inside the estate, the waiter trembled. He had witnessed it all.

He pressed a hand to his mouth, heart racing. Every instinct screamed at him to call security, but fear rooted him in place. He could barely breathe, let alone speak.

Then he remembered Lisa had slipped him a folded note. “If anything goes wrong tonight, call Peter.”

So he did.

His hands shook as he dialed.

Peter arrived just minutes later.

His footsteps resonated sharply as he entered, his expression carved from stone. He surveyed the scene in an instant: Samuel sprawled unconscious on the tiles, a fallen candle, and ripples disturbing the pool’s surface.

Then he saw her.

Lisa.

Her body floated just beneath the surface, her hair spread out like ink against the blue water.

Something shattered within him.

“Lisa!” His voice was raw as he dove in.

The water closed around him, painfully cold. He pulled her up, dragging her against him, kicking toward the surface. He broke through, gasping, and laid her on the tiles.

Her skin was cold. Her lips were blue.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, pressing his hands against her chest. “Breathe. Don’t leave me like this.”

He forced air into her lungs and pressed again, desperate and frantic.

But her chest remained still.

Her eyes never opened.

Lisa Callahan, the heiress who had plotted betrayal and who had promised him a future built from revenge and stolen empires, lay silent.

Gone.

Peter sat back, drenched and trembling, though his jaw was set tight.

The waiter lingered nearby, pale and terrified. “Sir… she—”

“No one saw this,” Peter cut him off, his voice low and menacing. His gaze flicked to the unconscious Samuel. “No one knows.”

The waiter swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

Peter looked down at Lisa’s lifeless form. For a moment, something like grief flickered across his face. Then it turned into something else—calculation.

He remembered everything.

He remembered her words, spoken so casually weeks before: “I saw a girl in one of your family’s stores. She looked exactly like me.”

At the time, he had brushed it off, even laughed. But now, with Lisa cold before him, those words ignited in his mind.

The girl looked exactly like Lisa.

A slow, dangerous smile crept onto his lips.

This wasn’t the end.

No.

This was just the beginning.