Sylvia’s stomach tightened with unease. Trish’s words felt... rehearsed. "Trust me," she’d said. But Sylvia had learned that people who said trust me usually had something to hide.

Still, she let it go. For now.

As they stepped inside Winn’s house—Sylvia took a deep breath.

She turned to Trish with a half-hearted smile, trying to shake off the tension. "Do you want some coffee?" she asked, already walking toward the kitchen.

"Black."

As Sylvia moved around the kitchen, her back turned, Trish’s expression shifted. The playful mask faded. Her fingers tapped anxiously against the counter. She thought of Evans, of Ivy’s fragile body in that hospital bed, and of the dangerous game they were now both a part of.

And Sylvia, sharp as ever, felt it. She set the coffee pot down and turned slowly, studying her friend again.

Trish forced a smile. "What?"

"Nothing," Sylvia said softly.

*****

Tom’s car screeched to a halt outside Winn’s house. He slammed the car door shut, straightened his jacket, and stormed up the front steps. He was furious.

Inside, Sylvia was already waiting. She had known this storm would come. Her phone was littered with missed calls, each one from her father. Tom Kane was not a man used to being ignored. Still, Sylvia sat at the desk in the living room, typing on her laptop, her hair pulled into a loose bun.

The faint hum of jazz played from the Bluetooth speaker, as if she were daring the world to disturb her peace.

When the door burst open and Tom’s booming voice filled the room, Sylvia didn’t flinch.

"You insolent child!" he barked.

"In the Kane household, that’s the greatest award one can get." She didn’t look up, fingers still flying over the keyboard. "Thank you, I truly appreciate it."

Tom’s face darkened as he took in the sight of her—his daughter, so composed, so defiant. His hands curled into fists at his sides. "You think this is a joke?"

Sylvia finally pushed back her chair. She rose with slow grace. As she made to walk past him, Tom’s hand shot out, gripping her arm with a vice-like force. "When I call, you answer, you little piece of shit!"

She jerked her arm free, glaring at him.

"Or what, Dad?" she hissed. "You’ll kill me too? News flash—that doesn’t scare me anymore."

She turned on her heel, striding toward the kitchen. "Say what you have to say. I’m busy."

Tom stood there for a long moment, chest heaving.

He followed her into the kitchen.

Sylvia leaned against the counter, uncapped a bottle of water, and took a slow sip. "You’re wasting your time glaring at me," she said finally. "You might as well get to the point."

Tom’s eyes narrowed. "Sharona called me."

"Good for her," Sylvia said flatly.

Tom stood across from her, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the breakfast island. "You sent her away?" he asked.

"Why wouldn’t I?" Sylvia replied. "She’s poison, Dad. No way would I let her near my brother anymore."

Tom’s eyes hardened. "Syl, baby. Think about what you’re doing. I need you."

"You need me?" she repeated, turning to face him fully. Her eyes met his, unflinching.

Tom exhaled heavily, trying to soften his tone. He had always known that anger wouldn’t win with her. "It’s not happening, Dad," she said before he could speak. "Why... why can’t you just leave us alone? Just go be with your other perfect family. You’ll be happier, and I—We’ll finally breathe again."

Tom’s hand flexed at his side. "Syl honey," he began carefully, walking a few steps closer. "Just look at this from my point of view. Put yourself in my shoes. How am I supposed to walk away now, after giving four decades of my life to you? You... you are the reason I stayed with your mother. I love you, Sylvia."

She crossed her arms, leaning back on one heel, her gaze icy. "You don’t have to stay anymore," she said softly. "You’re ruining every one of our lives by staying. Just go."

Tom frowned, his jaw tightening. "Empty-handed?"

"So you didn’t stay because of me, then," she said, stepping closer, her chin tilted up in quiet challenge. "You stayed because you wanted to get the money."

"For you!" Tom snapped. The mask of patience fell away, and the desperation underneath finally showed. "For you, Sylvia! So you could have the life you deserve. The name, the security, the empire. I did all of this with you in mind."

Sylvia’s lips curved into a sad smile. "I don’t want it," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Why are you so adamant about getting me something I don’t want?"

Tom took another step closer, his presence suffocating now. "You don’t understand. You think you can just walk away and start flipping burgers in some restaurant and be happy? You’re a Kane. You were born to live differently."

"Differently?" Sylvia echoed. "You mean miserably?"

Tom stared at her, speechless. He tried again, weaker this time. "I just want what’s best for you, Syl."

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "No, Dad. You want what’s best for you. I just want peace."

"You have no idea what I have been through!" Tom’s His face flushed crimson, the veins in his neck standing out as years of resentment boiled to the surface. "Marrying your mother was the most demeaning thing that could have ever happened to me! Your grandfather humiliated me at every chance he got!"

"That’s because he saw through your pretentious bullshit," she said calmly, arching a brow. "You wanted power, and he saw it. You wanted to wear his wealth, and he made sure you remembered you were just a man who married into it."

"Dad, I really have to work," she said dismissively. "If you want to get Sharona with Winn, you really have to figure out another way to move that particular chess piece, because this pawn—has left the board."

"You are an ungrateful bitch!" he shouted, stepping forward, his hand trembling as if unsure whether to shake her or strike her.

(Please see author’s note. Contains spoilers though)