"Well, could you give us fifteen minutes to have sex first? I am his wife, after all." She tilted her head, watching the man’s face turn crimson as his composure faltered.

"Uh..." The driver blinked rapidly. His ears turned pink.

"Come on," Sharona coaxed, lowering her voice into a purr as she stepped closer. "He just had a little too much to drink. We wanted to unwind before, you know..." She trailed off suggestively, letting her robe slip just slightly at the collar for emphasis.

The driver’s mouth opened and closed. "Uh... okay. I’ll just confirm from Mr. Dalton first." He awkwardly reached into his pocket for his phone, his discomfort palpable as his professional demeanor warred with the absurdity of the situation.

But before he could even unlock the device, the ding! of the elevator sliced through the tension. The doors slid open with a hiss, and out stormed Reese—every stride radiating purpose and fury—with Sylvia hot on his heels.

"Where is my brother?" Sylvia shouted. Before anyone could react, she stormed forward, practically shoving Sharona out of the way.

Sharona stumbled back with a shocked gasp, barely catching herself. "Excuse me! You can’t just—"

"Watch me!" Sylvia snapped without sparing her a glance. Her focus was entirely on Winn, sprawled and half-conscious on the sofa. The sight of him—shirt undone, pupils dilated, lips parted—hit her.

"Oh my God, Winn," she breathed, falling to her knees beside him. "What the hell happened to you?"

Reese moved swiftly, his trained eyes assessing the room.

"Miss Priestly," he said evenly. "What did you give him?"

She scoffed, flipping her hair as if insulted. "Excuse me? I didn’t give him anything. We were just having a drink. He got a little drunk, that’s all."

"Hey sis..." Winn croaked. "You came." There was relief in his tone — that fragile, childlike gratitude.

"Of course, I did." Sylvia’s gaze darted briefly to Sharona — poised and smug in her robe, arms crossed over her chest. Sylvia’s eyes narrowed.

"She put something in my drink." Winn’s pupils were unfocused, his breathing shallow.

"Reese!" she barked, stepping away. "Take him to the hospital. I’ll join you soon."

Reese, ever efficient and calm even under pressure, slipped his arm under Winn’s shoulder and hoisted him up.

The sound of Winn’s belt buckle clinking against his thigh made Sylvia wince — it was the sound of humiliation, of how far her brother had fallen tonight. "Miss Kane, you have to come with us," Reese urged gently.

"Reese, I promise you, I will be there," Sylvia said quickly. "I will not go anywhere else. I just need ten minutes. Please." She stepped closer, lowering her tone. "Please." Her lips trembled, her eyes glistening as the weight of helpless rage filled her chest.

Reese studied her for a long moment, then gave a brief, silent nod and guided Winn toward the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, the silence in the room turned thick and electric. Sharona’s smirk widened as she folded her arms. "What is it you think is going to happen here, Syl?" she taunted.

"Throw a tantrum. Give a speech like last time? Because if you are, let me grab my phone — I’d like to film this one."

Sylvia didn’t answer. Instead, she bent over and picked up the half-drunk bottle of bourbon sitting on the coffee table. Without a word, she uncapped it and began to pour the bourbon into two empty glasses.

The liquid overflowed quickly, spilling onto the rug beneath.

Sharona arched a brow. "Is that what you plan to do? Mess up my rug?" She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Classic Kane — all drama, no sense."

Sylvia weighed the empty bourbon bottle in her hand, feeling the faint warmth of its last drops against her skin. She itched to lick it but she tried to concentrate. She turned it slowly before setting it back down on the coffee table.

"My dad," she began softly, "as you’ve come to know, is a terrible person." She took a few slow steps toward Sharona. "But some perks came with being his daughter."

Sharona leaned back against the door, her smirk faltering just slightly, the playful curl of her lips losing confidence as Sylvia drew closer. "He taught us skills needed in some dicey situations," Sylvia went on. There was a dangerous glint in her eyes now.

"What’s your point, princess?" she taunted. She adjusted her robe nervously, clutching it tighter around her chest.

"My point?" Sylvia tilted her head. "I told you — if you mess up one hair on my brother’s head, I’m gonna fuck you up."

"You..." Sharona began, her hand lifting as if to push Sylvia away, but she didn’t get the chance to finish. Sylvia’s fist connected with her jaw in a clean, brutal arc. "What the fuck?!" Sharona yelped, stumbling back, her hand flying to her face.

"I warned you!" Sylvia screamed. She grabbed a handful of Sharona’s hair and yanked hard, dragging her off the couch. The motion was fluid, fueled by adrenaline and heartbreak. Sharona hit the ground with a choked gasp.

Sylvia slammed her foot into Sharona’s stomach, once, twice, her own sobs catching between the blows. "I told you...to leave my brother alone!"

Sharona shrieked, twisting away, her hair a tangled mess, her robe slipping open as she crawled across the floor. "Stop!" she screamed. Sylvia caught up to her, straddled her waist, and brought her fist down again and again.

Each punch landed with a thud, muffled only by the sound of Sylvia’s ragged breathing.

Her vision blurred with tears. She wasn’t just seeing Sharona anymore — she was seeing Tom’s cold eyes. Rage at Tom for making them pawns. Rage at Sharona for her poison. Rage at herself.

Sharona’s snarl ripped through the room as she summoned the last of her strength, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She shoved Sylvia hard, sending her flying backward.

Sylvia’s head struck the corner of the coffee table with a sharp crack before she crumpled to the floor, a gasp tearing from her lips. Stars exploded in her vision, the room spinning violently.

Her body went limp for a split second before instinct kicked in.

(Please, dont forget to make a decision)