Chapter 2

• Around 7 PM, the restaurant bathed in soft golden light and muted jazz tones. Moiraine entered like royalty—elegant, commanding, untouchable.
• She wore a maroon sleeveless gown that hugged her curves with tasteful boldness. A black fur shawl was draped around her shoulders, accentuating her pale skin and signature white hair. Her heels clicked softly on the polished floor as she walked in, head held high.
• Stephen Black stood when he saw her, his brown eyes lighting up with practiced affection. He looked exactly as she remembered—charming, clean-cut, dangerous in the way only manipulators could be.
• This was the night he had proposed to her in the past. The night she'd cried out of happiness.
• Stupid girl, she thought.
• He leaned in to hug her, brushing a kiss across her lips. She let him, keeping her smile polite. Not too cold. Not too warm.
• “Hey babe,” he said warmly, placing a hand on the small of her back as he led her to their private, candlelit table. “You look stunning, as always.”
• She forced a laugh. “Thank you, darling. You’re not looking so bad yourself.”
• In the past, she would have babbled on—filling him in on her day, laughing about trivial things, basking in the fantasy of love and trust. Back when she lived as both a spoiled heiress and the secret ruler of a brutal empire.
• Now, every word she spoke was measured. Every smile calculated.
• He didn’t know that she knew.
• And she planned to keep it that way. For now.
• Once seated, he asked, “So... how was your day?”
• She sipped her wine slowly before answering, her voice smooth. “Good. Productive.”
• “And mine was interesting,” he said, lifting a brow. “We received your little ‘gift’ to the families. Moiraine, really? Sending fingers?”
• He chuckled like it was a joke. Like she hadn’t just executed justice with cold precision.
• She set down her glass gently and met his gaze. “Why wouldn’t I? You of all people should know the rules. We cannot make exceptions—not even for the ones we love.”
• He blinked, the smile faltering just a little.
• “I would never betray you, Moiraine.”
• Her lips curled into a knowing smile. “I know, Stephen,” she said, signaling the waitress without looking away. “But love doesn’t excuse weakness. Our world doesn’t tolerate softness. You know that, don’t you, darling?”
• There was a brief flicker in his expression. Just a second of discomfort. Then it was gone.
• They ordered. They chatted.
• And through it all, Moiraine smiled like she was still that stupid girl who thought love was enough.
• But under the table, her hand curled into a fist.
• Tonight was the night he proposed.
• And tonight, she would say yes.
• But this time...
• She had her own ring to prepare.
• "Okay, okay, no problem babe," Stephen said with a half-laugh, sipping his wine. "But don’t you think it’s a bit much? I mean… you’re a lady, Moiraine. The violence sometimes—it’s excessive."
• They’d had this argument before. It always ended the same way: Stephen pushing her toward normalcy, her dismissing him with cold finality.
• Tonight, she didn’t.
• She tilted her head, eyes thoughtful. "Maybe you’re right," she said softly, twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. "Maybe I should live more. Act like a normal woman. Smile more, show up in the papers, attend parties... Especially if we’re going to end up together."
• Stephen's expression flickered—surprise, then glee.
• To the world, he was a renowned businessman. Respected. Clean. Moiraine, on the other hand, was the shadow queen—feared, ruthless, invisible to the public eye. A visible partnership between them would give him access to everything he’d ever wanted.
• In his mind, fireworks were already going off.
• Finally, he thought. The Sokolov gates are about to open.
• But just as the smile bloomed fully on his lips, Moiraine’s voice cut through again, calm and sharp.
• "But," she added, raising her glass, “if I’m going to leave the messier parts to you... you’ll have to take on more responsibility.”
• Stephen raised an eyebrow. “What kind of responsibility?”
• “You’ll need to relocate to our overseas branch,” she said coolly. “The South Pole division. Spend a year there expanding operations. Build something meaningful.”
• The joy in Stephen’s eyes instantly vanished.
• "A year?" he repeated, trying not to choke on his wine. "Moiraine, isn't that a bit extreme? Can’t I just work from here? We could—"
• "It’s decided," she interrupted, her tone final and sweet like poisoned honey. “You leave next week.”
• Stephen coughed, nearly spilling his drink. “Next week? Wait—I thought we were going to talk about this first.”
• She laughed gently. “Nope. You’ll attend the gala with me this weekend. There, you’ll inform your associates that you’re traveling for expansion. While you’re away, I’ll oversee your companies. You know, just the basics.”
• She smiled brightly. “Now isn’t that perfect, darling?”
• Stephen’s thoughts spiraled. This wasn’t the plan. He had meant to propose tonight. Meant to start edging closer to full control of the Sokolov empire. But now? He was being shipped off like a pawn on her private chessboard.
• Still, he couldn’t argue—not without suspicion.
• With a forced smile, he nodded. “Of course. Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”
• Moiraine leaned back, satisfied. Checkmate.
• Dinner ended without rings, without speeches, without love. Just a woman with white hair sipping wine, and a man drowning in his own delusions.
• Stephen drove her home that night. Said goodnight with a kiss. Then drove straight to his penthouse at the other end of the city—silent, fuming, defeated.
• Moiraine watched his car disappear into the distance from her window.
• She didn’t need a ring. Not tonight.
• She already had his leash.
• When Moiraine returned home, Dihanna was waiting by the entrance like always, eager and alert.
• “So… how was dinner?” she asked, a bit too cheerfully.
• Moiraine smiled as she stepped in, the soft maroon fabric of her dress flowing like wine against her skin. Her white hair cascaded down her back in waves, giving her the air of something divine—beautiful, composed, and deadly.
• “Dinner was great,” she chirped with a glow that almost looked genuine. “Stephen will be going to the South Pole to handle business for me. That way, I won’t have to stress myself with certain… tasks.”
• Dihanna blinked. That wasn’t what Stephen had told her—or at least, not how she remembered it. Had she misheard? Or was something else going on?
• “Oh? Is that all?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Did anything else happen?”
• Moiraine tilted her head, eyes calm. “Nope. Nothing at all.” She smiled again, effortlessly disarming. “You can take the night off. See you tomorrow, dear.”
• Dihanna hesitated, then turned to leave.
• As she exited, she bumped into one of the younger maids coming down the hallway, carrying a tray of tea. Without hesitation, Dihanna slapped the girl across the face.
• “Watch where you’re going, girl.”
• The maid gasped, the tray rattling in her hands. Holding her stinging cheek, she bowed. “I-I’m so sorry, ma’am…”
• Dihanna scoffed and brushed past her like dust in the wind.
• The maid slowly entered the room and set the tray down. “My lady, your tea is here.”
• Moiraine was standing in front of her full-length mirror, removing her earrings. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Just leave it on the table.”
• As the maid bent to place the tray, Moiraine caught sight of the red, rising mark across her cheek.
• “How did you get that injury?” she asked, her voice suddenly cold and precise.
• Startled, the girl touched her face and fumbled, “O-oh, I hit my face earlier… walking without light. Clumsy me, my lady.”
• Moiraine said nothing for a long moment. Then, she gave a slow nod and dismissed the girl with a wave of her fingers.
• Once the door clicked shut, Moiraine turned back to the mirror. Her reflection stared back—icy, elegant, unreadable.
• If this is how Dihanna treats the staff…
• She narrowed her eyes slightly.
• Then I really was blind before.
• And just like that, a crack appeared in the flawless glass of trust.
• When Moiraine returned home, Dihanna was waiting by the entrance like always, eager and alert.
• “So… how was dinner?” she asked, a bit too cheerfully.
• Moiraine smiled as she stepped in, the soft maroon fabric of her dress flowing like wine against her skin. Her white hair cascaded down her back in waves, giving her the air of something divine—beautiful, composed, and deadly.
• “Dinner was great,” she chirped with a glow that almost looked genuine. “Stephen will be going to the South Pole to handle business for me. That way, I won’t have to stress myself with certain… tasks.”
• Dihanna blinked. That wasn’t what Stephen had told her—or at least, not how she remembered it. Had she misheard? Or was something else going on?
• “Oh? Is that all?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Did anything else happen?”
• Moiraine tilted her head, eyes calm. “Nope. Nothing at all.” She smiled again, effortlessly disarming. “You can take the night off. See you tomorrow, dear.”
• Dihanna hesitated, then turned to leave.
• As she exited, she bumped into one of the younger maids coming down the hallway, carrying a tray of tea. Without hesitation, Dihanna slapped the girl across the face.
• “Watch where you’re going, girl.”
• The maid gasped, the tray rattling in her hands. Holding her stinging cheek, she bowed. “I-I’m so sorry, ma’am…”
• Dihanna scoffed and brushed past her like dust in the wind.
• The maid slowly entered the room and set the tray down. “My lady, your tea is here.”
• Moiraine was standing in front of her full-length mirror, removing her earrings. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Just leave it on the table.”
• As the maid bent to place the tray, Moiraine caught sight of the red, rising mark across her cheek.
• “How did you get that injury?” she asked, her voice suddenly cold and precise.
• Startled, the girl touched her face and fumbled, “O-oh, I hit my face earlier… walking without light. Clumsy me, my lady.”
• Moiraine said nothing for a long moment. Then, she gave a slow nod and dismissed the girl with a wave of her fingers.
• Once the door clicked shut, Moiraine turned back to the mirror. Her reflection stared back—icy, elegant, unreadable.
• If this is how Dihanna treats the staff…
• She narrowed her eyes slightly.
• Then I really was blind before.
• And just like that, a crack appeared in the flawless glass of trust.