Rita didn't sleep. Not even for a second.
Morning light crept across her room like an accusation, highlighting every flaw in the chaos she'd made. Her hair was a tangled mess, mascara smudged beneath eyes that burned from too many hours of rehearsing excuses that wouldn't work anymore. She felt stripped, like Ella and Ben had peeled her mask right off her face and left her standing bare in a world she wasn't built for.
She gripped the edge of her vanity, knuckles turning white.
"They think they're done with me."
Her voice cracked.
"They really think they've won."
A shaky breath escaped her before she snatched up her phone. Jasper's missed calls sat on the screen like unanswered warnings. She hesitated only a second before calling him back.
He picked up on the first ring.
"Rita," he said, steady, calm, the way he always spoke when he needed her to stay sharp. "Talk to me."
She swallowed hard. "They confronted me, Jasper. Both of them. Together. Like some united front." Her breath hitched. "Ella stood there like she owned the place, and Ben… Jasper, Ben didn't even flinch. Do you know what that does to a person?"
"I do," Jasper said simply. "And that means they're confident. Confident people make mistakes. You just need to watch."
Rita shut her eyes, leaning back in her chair. "I feel everything slipping. I planned every angle. Every emotion. Every version of Ella's reaction. But she didn't break. And Ben didn't bend. It's like they're… stronger now."
"Good," Jasper replied. "That means they're predictable. And predictability gives us an advantage."
Rita let out a humorless breath, half laugh, half choke. "You sound like you're prepping for a board meeting, not a war."
"This is a war," he said calmly. "And we don't panic in war. We strategize."
Something in his tone steadied her. A corporate calm mixed with quiet danger. Jasper always sounded like a man who would burn a city just to build another one in its place.
"Rita," he added, voice dropping low, "listen carefully. From here on, you keep quiet. No outbursts. No theatrics. Let them think they scared you. Let them underestimate you. You'll get one chance to strike again, one clean shot. Don't waste it."
Her fingers trembled, but her spine straightened.
She could picture Ella's fierce stare. Ben's hard jaw.
The two of them, united, walking out of that room like victors.
"No," she whispered. "I'm not letting them win."
"That's the spirit," Jasper said. "Now tell me, what exactly did they say last night? Every detail. Don't skip."
Rita inhaled sharply and began recounting the confrontation, Ben's cold tone, Ella's controlled rage, the finality in their words. Jasper listened quietly. No interruptions. No gasps. Just silence—strategic silence.
When she finished, Jasper exhaled. "Alright. This changes things, but it doesn't end them."
Rita rubbed her forehead. "I don't want adjustments. I want control."
"And you'll get it," he said. "But for now, you need to stay composed. You need to observe. They're emotional, Rita. They're human. Humans slip."
Her lips twitched into a thin smile.
"Ella thinks she's untouchable now."
"And that," Jasper said, "is her weakest point."
Rita stood slowly, shoulders squaring. "So what's next?"
Jasper paused, voice dropping into a quiet, lethal certainty.
"We wait. We gather intel. We watch their patterns. Their habits. Their cracks. Ella especially, she's the emotional core. Break her, and Ben collapses."
A shiver ran through Rita at the way he said it; calm, methodical, almost bored, like he was analyzing quarterly reports instead of people's lives.
"Do not confront them again," he added. "Not until I say so."
Rita nodded, breathing easier. "I'll follow your lead. I won't make another mistake."
"Good," Jasper replied. "Call me if anything changes. And Rita?"
"Yes?"
"Keep your mask on this time. Don't let them see the cracks."
The line went dead.
Rita stared at her reflection; eyes cold, controlled, steady once more.
The panic was gone.
The desperation buried.
A new fire settled into her gaze, sharper, smarter, far more dangerous.
"They think it's over," she whispered. "But the real game starts now."
Outside, the city buzzed with morning life.
Inside, Rita's determination hardened into something icy and relentless.
Ella and Ben had won a round.
Not the war.
And Rita, reborn, recalibrated, rearmed, wasn't backing down.
Not now.
Not ever.