The clink of cutlery and soft hum of conversation filled the Lawrence dining room, but for Mrs. Lawrence and Mila, the warmth of the evening was overshadowed by a prickling unease.
Mrs. Lawrence, oblivious to the undercurrent, chatted happily about the company's upcoming projects. But Mila, seated a few chairs down, had her sharp eyes fixed on the subtle dance playing out between Dallas, Mia, and Aiden.
She noticed the way Dallas leaned slightly closer to Mia, whispered something in a tone that made her shiver with jealousy, and the way Aiden's calm exterior barely masked the tension coiling beneath. A slow smile curled on Mila's lips. So he's trying to provoke Aiden… through her, she thought, excitement and scheming sparking in her mind. Perfect. If Aiden starts resenting Mia, she'll have him all to herself.
"Mother," Mila began, tilting her head innocently toward Mrs. Lawrence. "What's going on with… them?"
Mrs. Lawrence, ever distracted by the pleasant chaos of dinner, glanced up. "What do you mean, dear?"
Mila leaned forward subtly, lowering her voice. "I mean… you can see it too, can't you? Dallas… he's acting strangely around Mia. And Aiden… well, he's...'
"Focused," Mrs. Lawrence interrupted kindly. "Your cousin has been through a lot. Perhaps he's just tired."
Mila's eyes flicked toward Aiden, noting the steely calm in his expression as he spoke softly to the table. She bit back a smile, sensing her opportunity.
She nudged slightly, feigning casual curiosity. "Aiden… are you… upset? You seem… tense."
Aiden's eyes remained fixed on his plate. Not a word, not a flicker of acknowledgment. He ignored her completely, his silence deliberate and controlled.
Mila's pout was immediate, exaggerated, as she turned her gaze toward Mia, letting her eyes linger with something dangerously veiled. Her smile was sweet, but her intent deadly. She didn't bother hiding it her message was clear: I see what you are, and I will make sure Aiden notices… in the wrong way.
Meanwhile, Dallas, having spent just enough time to plant subtle unease, rose from his chair smoothly.
"I have some business to attend to," he said, voice warm, casual, but with the unmistakable undertone of mischief. He walked past Mia, close enough that she felt the heat of his presence.
He winked at her a deliberate, provocative gesture and with a smooth, confident stride, left the dining area.
Mia's chest tightened. She looked toward Aiden, expecting some kind of warning, a shared glance, something. But his face remained unreadable, calm as ever, betraying nothing.
Her stomach churned. She didn't understand fully yet, but the lingering sense of danger made her uneasy.
Aiden, on the other hand, said nothing. He didn't explain, didn't hint, didn't reveal anything about Dallas' intentions. All he did was watch Dallas leave, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly as he calculated, planned, and waited.
Mila, still pouting, whispered to herself under her breath, eyes darting between Mia and Aiden: He won't tell her anything… perfect. This will be fun.
The evening continued, but the air was thick now—charged with unspoken threats, hidden motives, and a silent war waging between the people at the table.
And Mia, caught in the middle, had no idea just how carefully she was being maneuvered into a dangerous game.