The Master of Puppets

Evelyn watched Nora pull the car back onto the main road. The morning’s encounter at the restaurant had left a bitter aftertaste, but it hadn't slowed her down.

"So," Nora asked, her eyes darting between the road and Evelyn’s calm profile. "You really have a plan? To deal with... them?"

Evelyn looked out the window, watching the city's neon lights begin to flicker to life. "It’s already in motion, Nora. One step at a time. When you push someone into a corner where there are no exits, they become very easy to handle."

She wasn't in a hurry. In fact, she found a dark sort of amusement in watching Iris scramble. Every day was a new game—watching her sister snap, crumble, and perform for an audience that was slowly losing interest. It was like watching a predator play with its prey; you don't kill the mouse immediately. You let it exhaust itself first.

Earlier that day, Evelyn had made her move.

She had gone with Nora to a high-end real estate agency. She didn't want a "home"—she wanted an asset. She settled on a sprawling, luxury penthouse, fully furnished and never occupied.

"Evelyn," Nora had whispered, staring at the price tag. "That’s thirty-five million. Are you sure?"

"Don't worry," Evelyn had winked. "I’ve got the cash."

Her investment account was sitting at nine figures. Thirty-five million was a drop in the ocean, a small price to pay for the ultimate sanctuary. She paid the deposit in full, bought a top-of-the-line laptop, and headed back to the "tomb"—the Carter mansion.

When she arrived, the furniture she’d ordered for her small staff room was being delivered. Two workmen were hauling large boxes into the foyer.

Eleanor Carter walked into the living room, her face contorting at the mess. "You bought this? Why?"

"Did you think I stole it, Mother?" Evelyn replied coolly.

"Your room is tiny," Eleanor snapped, rubbing her temples. "And you’re barely going to be here. Why bother with this nonsense?"

"Maybe because you’re so eager to see me leave," Evelyn countered, her eyes flashing with a cold disappointment.

Before Eleanor could respond, Iris descended the stairs. She didn't come close; she stayed at a safe, theatrical distance.

"She has AIDS!" Iris shouted to the delivery men, her voice echoing in the grand hall. "Are you crazy? You’re doing business with a biohazard?"

The workmen froze. "What? Is that true?"

"I’m perfectly fine," Evelyn said, her voice steady. "I’ll pay you double for the assembly."

"Double isn't enough for our lives!" the younger workman shouted. He looked at Eleanor, who remained silent, offering no defense for her eldest daughter. That was all the confirmation they needed. They dropped their tools and bolted out the door like they were escaping a burning building.

Iris smirked, a small, triumphant curve of her lips. "Well, look at that. Waste of money, isn't it?"

Evelyn didn't look defeated. She walked over, picked up a hammer, and looked at the assembly diagrams. "Since you're so happy, Iris, why don't you stay and watch? You might learn something about manual labor."

Evelyn sat on the floor and began to work. She was slow, deliberate, and loud.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

An hour passed. Two. The rhythmic pounding of the hammer echoed through the house, vibrating in the floorboards.

"How much longer?" Eleanor finally screamed from the sofa, her migraine worsening.

"A while," Evelyn said, tightening a screw by hand. "I’ll probably be done by midnight."

"You’re doing this on purpose!" Iris shrieked from the balcony. "You’re torturing Mom!"

"If you want me to finish faster, Iris, come down and help," Evelyn called back without looking up.

When Robert and Grant returned from work, they found the living room a disaster zone.

"Evelyn, this is too much," Robert bellowed, his face red with the day's losses. "Your mother has a headache, and you’ve been banging on those boards all afternoon!"

"Iris chased the professionals away," Evelyn reminded him. "Should I sleep on the floor to accommodate her lies?"

The argument was interrupted by the arrival of Lucas Chen. He stepped into the chaos, looking confused. Iris immediately tried to run to him, but she tripped over a loose board and let out a dramatic cry.

Lucas hurried to help her, but his eyes kept drifting to Evelyn—thin, focused, and struggling with a heavy wooden panel.

"Let me help you," Lucas blurted out, stepping toward Evelyn.

"Lucas!" Iris’s face went green with rage. "Are you here for me or for her?"

"Iris, the living room is a mess. If I help her finish, the noise stops," Lucas reasoned, though his eyes told a different story. He took the hammer from Evelyn’s hand.

Evelyn smiled at him—a bright, dazzling smile that hadn't been seen since before her disappearance. "Thank you, Lucas. You were always the most reliable one."

Iris retreated upstairs in a silent, jealous fury, slamming her door so hard the chandeliers rattled.

That night, dinner was a psychological battlefield.

The Carters sent a tray of plain vegetables to Evelyn’s door. She didn't touch it. Instead, she ordered a luxury hot pot delivery.

Soon, the scent of spicy Sichuan peppercorns and rich beef broth filled the entire house. It seeped into the vents, into the curtains, and into the upstairs bedrooms.

Robert Carter slammed his chopsticks down in the dining room. "It smells like a d*mn restaurant in here! Evelyn!"

He stormed over to the sofa where Evelyn was calmly dipping a slice of Wagyu beef into the bubbling pot.

"You know this isn't safe!" he roared. "You could burn the house down!"

Evelyn looked up, her lips flushed red from the spice, her eyes sparkling with life. "Don't take your stock market losses out on me, Dad. I heard you lost eighty million today. That’s a lot of 'green' to be mad about."

Robert nearly choked. He kicked a chair over and stomped to his study, only to find the smell of spicy broth had already claimed his sanctuary.

Later that night, tucked away in her small room with her new laptop, Evelyn logged onto the "Alpha Investor" forum.

The market was a bloodbath. The comments were filled with the "wailing of ghosts." Evelyn skimmed the international reports and typed out a sharp, cold analysis of the current trend.

Within minutes, a notification popped up.

[White Knight]: Stop spreading rumors.

Evelyn scoffed. This guy again. He was always contrary, always arrogant. She checked the "Elite Traders" group chat.

[Mrs. Li (Evelyn)]: White Knight, you called my post a rumor. Did you lose so much today that you're looking for a fight?

[Coach Yu]: Mrs. Li is back! White Knight was the first to comment on her post. He’s obsessed [laughing emoji].

Across the city, in a minimalist high-rise penthouse, Lucien Hale sat on his sofa, shirtless, drying his hair with a towel. His young nephew was eating a chicken leg nearby.

"Uncle, you're so handsome. Why don't you have a girlfriend?" the boy asked.

"Do you?" Lucien asked dryly.

"I have three! Two in preschool, one in kindergarten."

Lucien smirked and checked his phone. His friend Zhang Wenzhou had messaged him: White Knight, Mrs. Li is calling you out in the group.

Lucien’s fingers flew across the screen.

[White Knight]: @Mrs. Li, thank you for your concern. I’m sorry to disappoint you.

[Mrs. Li]: Don't mention it. Take it easy. Money is just an object. Try not to jump off any buildings.

[White Knight]: I didn't lose anything. I liquidated my positions this morning.

The group went silent. Then it exploded.

[Coach Yu]: Wait, you actually listened to her? Yesterday you said the trend hadn't ended!

Lucien stared at the screen, his mouth tightening. He hated admitting he was wrong.

[White Knight]: It had nothing to do with her. A friend advised me.

Evelyn rolled her eyes at her screen. A friend? How convenient. A man who can't admit he’s been outplayed is the most dangerous kind of fool.

The conversation shifted.

[Coach Yu]: I’m bringing the team to the capital next week for the Summer League. Three of you are in the city, right? Let’s meet up. Let’s celebrate Mrs. Li’s return.

Evelyn watched the messages fly by—plans for a meetup, excitement, curiosity.

"Like a cat and a mouse," Evelyn whispered to the empty room. "The cat doesn't just eat the mouse. It plays with it until the mouse's heart gives out."

She closed her laptop. The trap was set, not just for the Carters, but for everyone who thought they knew who Evelyn Carter was.