Chapter 5 No longer family

" Zara! No. Don't say that!" Mrs Kingston clamps her mouth with her both hands in horror and sobs softly.

" You all are no longer my family who would go to such a low level to ruin their own daughter. If you couldn't trust my skills, my passion, you could have just stopped me instead of buying those judges and bribing my so-called best friend. You could have paid some extra money to make sure your son had that power to get a project by himself instead of selling his sister's virginity." She laughs bitterly but her composure is resolute and firm.

"From today onwards, I am no longer a Kingston. Don't call me or come to me even at anyone's funeral. You just nailed the coffin that I have worked hard not to close. Live happily with your golden child!" She grabs her purse and looks at her mother who is crying nonstop

" Goodbye! Mom. You should have cried when you missed my birthdays, my graduation, my dance competitions. You should have cried when you neglected me and when you agreed to sell me for your son's future. You should get two awards. For being the worst mother and for being a good actress."

Her cool voice did not contain any emotions. Nonetheless, her calm exterior didn't shatter either. Just years of unfairness and losing her dream to be a Pâtissiére forced her to shed tears. After all, Zara was known to be the calm and indifferent person who would like to avoid things that would trouble her. After today, she proved that she could turn someone else if they messed with her in bad way.

The door is opened by a guard, revealing the scene of five bodyguards in black waiting outside the house. They all looked serious and professional.

" Let's go.!" She told the first person in a blue jacket. From his attire, she can sense that he is in charge of them.

" Sure, Ma'am!" He responds politely but with no emotions.

" Tell your Boss. If he has any gut, he'd prevent me from returning here. Tell him to kill me if he needs to divorce. I heard his hand doesn't shake when he kills people!" She says, putting the sunglasses on.

" It's not like -!"

" I don't care!"

She hops in the car and slams the door. Whatever happens today, she will just repay everyone with interest.

In the Hotel...

The morning sun slips through the parted curtains, its golden rays caressing the broad back of the man who exudes a demeanor akin to a mafia boss.

Dominic Antonio chuckles darkly as he stares at the two thousand dollars sitting conspicuously on the nightstand. The realization hits him with a mix of amusement and disbelief - the woman from last night certainly has nerves.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, trying to piece together the events of the previous evening.

He has a few drinks with his acquaintances. He didn't even know anyone's presence behind him until a woman jumped on his lap and started flirtatious banter, and eventually ended up here, entangled in each other's arms. It had been passionate, intense even surprisingly, but now he couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. After all, it was his very first time sleeping with someone after five years. Also, he can't remember the face. All he remembers is her drunken voice but it was oddly familiar.

Picking up the stack of bills, he examines them closely. There is no note, no explanation - just cold, hard cash. His mind races with questions. Was this some kind of joke? Or perhaps a transactional gesture he had missed amidst the haze of desire?

He shakes his head, unable to suppress a wry smile. Whatever her intentions, she has left him with a tangible reminder of their night together. As he throws the money in the trash can, he can't deny the irony of the situation. Treating him like a call boy is the last thing he has ever imagined.

As he mulls over the audacity of the woman's actions, his phone abruptly rings. Glancing at the screen, he sees it is his right-hand man calling. Answering with a curt "Yes?" his mood shifts instantly to businesslike efficiency.

"Boss, when are you returning? We found Matt's dog," Caesar inquires urgently.

He stands up abruptly. Reaching for the shirt crumpled on the floor, his gaze meeting his own in the mirror.

"I have to meet someone," he replies coolly, his tone unwavering. "You start the interrogation. If he dares to play with us, cut his tongue."

"As you wish," Caesar hangs up the call.

Dominic glances at the nail marks on his broad shoulders and chest, noting the visible bite mark just above his hardened chest. The woman from last night has indeed been a wild cat.

After an hour,

A sleek black car with a custom number plate and a silver-plated signature reading "Antonio" pulls up in front of La Ciel Restaurant, one of the city's renowned seven-star establishments.

"There's a VVIP here. He was here a few months ago!" A waitress informs him, her voice tinged with panic.

"No one saw the VVIP arrive. It's unusual for them to come during the day," She said, her anxiety evident.

"When did he come? Why didn't you inform me?" The head chef exclaimed, immediately ordering for the freshest ingredients to be prepared.

"He arrived after 11 PM, and only Miss Zara and Mira were here," she explained, hurrying to keep up with the Chef.

"Young Miss Zara? Did she prepare the food?" he asked urgently.

"Yes, she made Duck à l'orange rice bowls and Mont Blanc,"

She replied, following closely behind the Chef.

"Did he eat? Don't tell me he's here to inspect us. How did this happen? Miss Zara is a Pâtissière, not a chef," the head chef fretted.

"He finished the food and left a note for her. I'm not sure what it said, but he personally left it," She explained.

The chef pauses, taking a deep breath. "I'll be back. Take care of the guests," he instructed before leaving.

The waitress nodded silently.

After receiving permission, the head chef enters the VVIP room.

His eyes swiftly move to the person who is standing before the frosted glass wall, staring at the flower garden outside.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he carries himself with a commanding presence that demands attention.

His dark, impeccably tailored suit draped over his frame like a second skin. That cold and indifferent expression is enough to make people behave themselves without crossing lines.

" Mr. Antonio!"