Rebecca strode towards the entrance of the lounge. Its glass front revealed a dimly lit interior. The building was simple but elegant. It was stylized as a low, rectangular structure of smooth, tan stone, punctuated by tall, dark-framed windows. A simple, yet imposing, portico, supported by four thick columns, sheltered the entrance. Above the glass doors, a clock with frozen hands at an indeterminate hour, added a touch of timeless sophistication.

  Inside, there was a tall, cavernous space that felt both grand and strangely empty in the fading evening light. Warm hues of amber and gold poured down from hidden sources, clinging to the edges of surfaces. They painted the room in strokes of vibrant contrast against the cool blues and grays that formed its bones. Tables with their still-set places waited patiently in the dimming corners. A low counter, bathed in a soft golden glow, curved invitingly, hinting at a quiet hub of activity from earlier in the day. Near the vast, windowed wall where daylight still lingered in streaks of ochre, a bonsai tree stood as a miniature sentinel. It deepened the blue inside.

  Rebecca’s long, dark brown hair was pulled back in a practical, no-nonsense ponytail. Her usually impeccable style was slightly off tonight. She had a simple black blouse and dark slacks. The lines around her intense, hazel eyes, usually softened by a carefully applied touch of makeup, were more pronounced with the weariness of past events she had endured. She scanned the room, quickly finding her sister.

  Seated at a table near the back, Olivia was the picture of polished perfection. Her dark, shoulder-length hair, expertly cut and styled, framed a face that was both beautiful and strikingly cold. Her eyes were a piercing, almost icy blue. They showed her sharp and intelligent demeanor. She was constantly assessing and calculating. She wore a tailored black blazer over a crisp white shirt. A single, elegant strand of pearls adorned her neck. They were a subtle display of wealth and status.

  Rebecca moved towards her purposefully. Her expression showed a controlled fury. She ignored the curious glances of the other patrons, her focus solely on Olivia. Reaching the table, Rebecca didn't hesitate. She didn't offer a greeting or wait for an invitation. She simply spoke, cutting through the ambient noise like a shard of glass.

  "Alonso Gijon tried to kill me."

  Olivia looked up with a carefully crafted expression of polite surprise. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. It was a gesture that managed to convey both boredom and mild annoyance.

  "What are you doing here?."

  The subtext was clear. The words were delivered with a practiced nonchalance.

  "Alonso?" Olivia scoffed with a delicate, almost musical laugh escaping her lips. "What are you talking about? He’s been long gone.. I'm sure you're exaggerating."

  She maintained a facade of bored amusement, her eyes betraying nothing. Her posture was relaxed, almost languid.

  Rebecca leaned forward slightly, her body language radiating controlled aggression. Her voice hardened.

  "Don't play games, Olivia. He came after me. And now, others are being targeted. People from the Institute. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence, considering it all started after it was closed down because of…suspected terrorism."

  Olivia took a slow sip of her wine, as if savoring the moment. She held the delicate crystal glass with long, elegant fingers. The ruby liquid caught the dim light.

  "Let's stop pretending, Olivia,” Rebecca added. “I know about your side venture, the Synoran Prosperity Initiative."

  Olivia's laugh was brittle and overly dismissive. It was a clear attempt to regain control.

  "What’s a Synoran Prosperity Initiative? A policy you want me to push through? What is that supposed to mean? You're delusional."

  Slight unease crossed her features. Her jaw tightened, as a momentary loss of focus showed in her eyes. But it was quickly masked.

  Rebecca pressed on.

  "Sector 1 properties, foreclosure auctions, collateral from defaulted GEM loans. I did some investigating and I noticed that in the buyout there were 3 main players, with the Synoran Prosperity Initiative winning 80% of that portfolio at pennies on the dollar. A company you’re involved in, Olivia. You’re profiting from the SDRA disaster. Our father's plan. Your profit."

  Each sentence was a calculated strike, aimed at dismantling Olivia's carefully constructed composure.

  A subtle tremor ran through Olivia's hand as she reached for her wine glass again. Her eyes, for a fleeting second, widened almost imperceptibly. The pupils dilated slightly. There was panic beneath. The perfectly applied lipstick on her mouth seemed to smear, ever so slightly, as her lips pressed together in a tight, involuntary grimace.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Olivia took another sip of wine, before setting the glass down with a carefully controlled clink. Her knuckles, usually pale and elegant, were white with tension.

  "You think you can blackmail me, Rebecca?" she asked, regaining some of her earlier confidence, though a slight tremor remained. "With what? Some weak accusations? I’m a business woman, and am allowed to follow my financial interests.”

  “Not when you’re a notorious enemy of the man who founded that program,” Rebecca soon replied. “A man who was your father -and whose government somehow auctioned out millions of dollars in properties and assets to his daughter, who apparently hated him? Please Olivia, it would make you seem like a hypocrite. And that’s enough to smear your image. An image you definitely need to upkeep in your current role as Chairwoman of the EBAC.”

  Olivia frowned. She felt disgusted.

  “May I remind you that as Chairwoman, I am the image of the government. I influence the media - that’s the entire purpose of the position. Hadic and I are at the highest tiers of Synoro. And you know how careful Hadic is about how we are perceived. No one will believe you."

  She attempted a dismissive wave of her hand, but the gesture was stiff, lacking her usual grace.

  Rebecca's lips curved into a cold smile.

  "Hadic controls Synoran media, Olivia. But money talks. And there are people, very powerful people, outside Synoro who would love to see Hadic embarrassed. People who outbid him."

  Rebecca’s hazel eyes now seemed to glitter with a hard, metallic sheen. She leaned closer, as her voice dropped to a near whisper. She made sure only Olivia could hear.

  "Think about the headlines, Olivia. 'Oliver Nader's Daughter Profiting from His Failed Policies.' 'Premjestr Elite Betrays Synoran People.' It would destroy your carefully crafted image, wouldn't it?"

  The words were a poisoned dart, aimed directly at Olivia's ambition. As a woman who built the most successful public relations firm this side of the continent, she understood the effect Rebecca’s threats could have on her. Destroying years of hard work and networking were one thing, but risking Hadic knowing of the danger they were potentially in, was much worse. She would need to plot a way out of this. Perhaps play along in the meantime.

  The laughter, the amusement, the carefully constructed composure all vanished. Olivia's face, still beautiful, was now barely controlled fury. The muscles in her jaw tightened, creating a sharp line beneath her flawless skin. She understood, finally, that this was not an empty threat. Her perfectly manicured nails dug slightly into the tablecloth. She took a moment to focus on her wretched sister, Rebecca.

  "What is it you want? What is this really about? Money? Find yourself out of a job and no prospects, and now want more out of me."

  She was grasping, trying to regain some control, and to paint Rebecca as the villain.

  Rebecca ignored the attempt at deflection.

  "Protection, Olivia. That’s what I want. I need it for me and for my colleagues. The people you’ve allied yourself with, they are trying to wipe us out."

  Olivia shifted, attempting to buy time and to assess the situation.

  "Protection? From what? Who? Alonso? Are you serious?”

  “Alonso came after me. I don’t know why or how. Most likely working with Hadic now-trying to redeem himself by wiping any loose ends.”

  What Rebecca was saying could not be possible. Alonso had fled years ago. Lying however, was not Rebecca’s style. Olivia knew that much. Rebecca could be righteous and idealistic. Those were traits about her Olivia found repulsive.

  “Suppose I believe you about Alonso, that's… a big ask, Rebecca. These things aren't simple. I need time to look into this, so that I understand what you're talking about."

  Her eyes darted around the lounge, as if seeking an escape.

  "Time is a luxury we don't have," Rebecca countered. "People are being attacked now. I need assurances now."

  Her hand, resting on the table, clenched into a fist.

  Rebecca straightened, her demand clear and uncompromising.

  "I want protection for Jeffrey Salvatore's family, in Hooma. Around-the-clock security. Enough to deter anyone who might be thinking of targeting them."

  “Jeffrey Salvatore?” Olivia asked, bewilderment showing on her face. “What does he have to do with this? By the time our father was gone, he had years out of this.”

  Rebecca chuckled, a cynical grin forming.

  “Sure, Olivia. But his family was just attacked. And Jeffrey was also deeply involved in dad’s operations. You know how crucial he was at one point…even for Hadic.”

  Olivia's lips tightened into a thin line, her eyes narrowing.

  "Hooma," she sighed, as if the very name were distasteful. "That's what you want, Rebecca. Fine. I’ll provide you with temporary protection, while I… look into things. But that's it. And don't think this changes anything between us."

  It was a concession, grudgingly given, but a concession nonetheless. The carefully constructed facade of composure was crumbling. She added, her voice hardening with a clear attempt to reassert some control.

  "And in return you keep your mouth shut about everything. Understood?"

  Olivia’s sight was locked onto Rebecca's. This was a silent warning, a threat veiled in polite language.

  "Understood," Rebecca replied, her eyes meeting Olivia's with intensity. "For now." She returned the threat.

  Olivia subtly signaled a waiter, her movements jerky, betraying her agitation. She wanted this encounter over. She needed to escape the suffocating pressure of Rebecca's presence.

  Rebecca didn't linger. She turned and walked away. Her steps were brisk and her back straight, leaving Olivia alone at the table.