KISS'S POV
The Goodwill Empire's office floor smelled faintly of polished mahogany and espresso — a scent I had grown used to over the weeks.
The afternoon sun streamed through the large windows, painting golden streaks on the walls, yet the warm light did little to ease the fluttering in my chest.
I had just come to drop off some files for Adrian when the faint murmur of voices stopped me in my tracks.
Isaac and Augustina.
The sound wasn't just ordinary talking. No. There was a charged undertone — the kind that made my cheeks heat without warning.
Curiosity won over hesitation. I approached the slightly ajar office door, careful not to make noise.
And then I saw it.
Isaac leaned over Augustina, his lips grazing hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. Augustina's hand rested against his chest, her head tilted, eyes closed, completely lost in the moment.
My first instinct was to turn and leave. But before I could move, Augustina's lips parted slightly, letting out a soft gasp as if sensing someone.
I cleared my throat.
"Oh!" Augustina jumped, her cheeks flaming red as she pulled back instantly.
Isaac froze as well, his dark eyes snapping to me.
"Uh… Kiss!" Augustina stammered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
I raised my eyebrows, suppressing a laugh, my lips curling into a teasing smirk.
"Well… was I disturbing you guys?" I asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.
Augustina's blush deepened as her hands flailed slightly.
I winked at her, the playful gesture earning a faint, embarrassed smile.
"Seems like you two are… very committed to your work," I teased lightly.
Isaac ran a hand over his face, shaking his head, while Augustina groaned.
"You're enjoying this way too much," she muttered, still flustered.
"I might be," I admitted, my voice teasing but soft. "But don't worry… your secret is safe with me."
Augustina's mouth opened as if to retort, but I cut her off.
"Anyway, I better get these files to Adrian. He'll have my head if I'm late again," I said, turning on my heel.
"Wait—Kiss—" Isaac began, but I waved him off with a playful smile.
"Don't overthink it, boys and girls," I said as I walked out, heels clicking lightly against the polished floor.
"Carry on, lovebirds."
The door clicked softly behind me, and I could hear Augustina muttering something incomprehensible under her breath.
I laughed quietly to myself, shaking my head.
WRITER'S POV
Somewhere across Europe, in the serene mountains of Switzerland, power looked different. It didn't roar — it glided, confident and lethal, like a predator unseen until the strike.
Elizabeth Wilson sat at the head of an ornate mahogany desk, a glass of deep red wine swirling in her hand. The low sunlight reflected in the crystal, casting shadows that danced across the room.
Across from her, a man — one of her lieutenants — knelt, visibly bruised, his pride shattered.
"I trusted you to contain her,"
Elizabeth said, her voice smooth yet cold. Each word carried a weight that made the air tremble.
The man swallowed hard, fear flickering in his eyes. "I… I did everything I could. She—your daughter—she's…"
"She's exactly what I expected,"
Elizabeth interrupted sharply. Her gaze turned icy. "But you nearly destroyed her. And that," she paused, lifting her glass to her lips, "is not something I forgive lightly."
Her men, silent shadows along the walls, stepped forward, each movement precise, disciplined, efficient. Elizabeth set her glass down slowly.
"Lock him in the dungeon," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Immediately, two of her men approached, grabbing the trembling man and dragging him toward the hidden doors that led beneath the estate.
His muffled protests echoed faintly before the heavy iron doors clanged shut. The dungeon was designed to hold the guilty, the traitorous, the weak. And now he was both.
Elizabeth's eyes followed the door as it sealed. Her lips curved slightly. Satisfaction, yes—but never enough. Not until her daughter was safely in her control.
"Liza" a soft voice came from behind, cautious yet respectful.
Elizabeth turned to see her own mother standing there, a hint of concern etched in her refined features.
"Is she… safe?" her mother asked quietly, almost hesitantly.
Elizabeth nodded, her gaze softening just slightly. "She's alive. She's stronger than anyone realizes."
Her mother's eyes searched hers. "And you… you're waiting for the right moment?"
Elizabeth's fingers tapped against the glass of her wine, slow and deliberate. "Yes. Timing is everything.
Kiss has grown, thrived… and proven herself in ways I hadn't expected.
But now… the moment is coming.
The perfect time."
Her mother nodded, understanding the gravity of the words. There was power in restraint — and Elizabeth had mastered it.
She lifted her hand, signaling to her men silently. They moved with coordinated precision, ensuring the estate remained secure. Every corner, every shadow, every entrance was under surveillance.
"I want eyes on her at all times," Elizabeth said softly but firmly. "I will know everything. Every move. Every word. Every connection she makes."
Her mother stepped closer. "And when you bring her to your land?"
Elizabeth's gaze became distant, almost tender. "Then… then she will understand what it means to be truly protected. To wield power. To be ready for the life that awaits her.
She will be mine… under my guidance, yes, but on her own terms. Until then, I watch. I wait. And I ensure no one dares to hurt her again."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile played across her lips. The glass of wine in her hand reflected the strength she carried — not just as a mother, but as a woman who had survived, ruled, and struck fear into anyone who underestimated her.
"Mother," she said, softer this time, almost vulnerable, "she is already extraordinary. But soon… she will understand the power she holds.
And I will be there when she steps fully into it."
Her mother nodded again, pride flickering in her eyes. "And your enemies?"
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "They will learn that the Wilson bloodline does not forgive. And they will fear it."
The sun had fully set, casting a crimson glow across the estate. The silence that followed was heavy, almost ceremonial, as if the world itself paused to acknowledge the quiet storm brewing in Elizabeth's heart.
She lifted her wine glass one last time, swirling it slowly. "For my daughter," she whispered. "May she rise, may she conquer… and may no one dare stand in her way."
The camera of the imagination sees a figure — Kiss — unaware of the chessboard around her, unaware that her life was already being prepared, molded, observed, and that every move she made in City V and beyond was being measured by a woman who would not rest until her daughter claimed the world.
BACK TO KISS
Back in City V, unbeknownst to her, Kiss laughed quietly at Augustina's earlier flustered expression, oblivious to the meticulous planning happening across Europe. She straightened the stack of files on Adrian's desk, her mind blissfully unaware that the quiet peace she had found was only temporary — that a storm of power, strategy, and maternal vengeance was already unfolding, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.