Chapter 111: Seems I’ve found the perfect piece for my next move
Meanwhile, inside a cramped, peeling-walled house, Kira’s screams tore through the air like thunder.
She hurled a vase across the room, glass shattering against the wall. Then went the lamp. Then the chair. Anything her hands found, she threw, her breaths ragged, her face flushed with fury.
"Those filthy hypocrites!" she shouted, her voice cracking as she kicked over a stool. "How dare they throw me out like trash!"
When her rampage finally stopped, the room looked like a storm had passed through.
Panting, Kira dropped onto the floor, her chest heaving. A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she scanned the chaos around her. "She deserves to clean this up," she muttered venomously. "After all, she was born to be a servant."
Her words dripped with resentment thinking about Mariam. But deep inside, what burned more than her rage was humiliation.
She’d been tossed out like a piece of dirt, stripped of the comfort she had gotten used to.
The mansion, the fine food, the elegant surroundings... all gone in an instant. And the cruel part? It wasn’t even Daniel who’d destroyed her. It was Anna.
That slap still burned on her cheek.
"Damn her..." Kira hissed, running a trembling hand through her tangled hair. "That self-righteous bitch!"
Unable to stand the four walls closing in, she stood abruptly and stormed out of the house.
The rusty door slammed against the wall with a loud bang, making a few of the neighbors peek through their half-closed doors.
Kira froze, glaring at them.
"What?" she barked, her bloodshot eyes darting around. "Never heard someone shout before?"
The neighbors quickly averted their gaze, slamming their doors shut one by one until silence fell again.
Kira scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Pathetic."
With a deep sigh, she trudged down the cracked street, her boots scuffing against the dirt road. The smell of oil, sweat, and cheap soap filled the air—an all-too-familiar scent of the life she thought she had escaped forever.
She hated it. Hated the peeling paint, the rusted tin roofs, the creaky doors of houses packed too close together.
This neighborhood, the same one she’d left behind a few days ago was now her reality again.
The place she once looked down on had reclaimed her like an old curse.
"If only that old hag hadn’t kicked me out," she grumbled, dragging her feet. "I’d still be living at Uncle’s—eating well, sleeping well... not like this damn rat hole."
She lit another scoff and stopped in front of an old wooden bench. Sitting down, she fished a cigarette out of her purse and slipped it between her lips, fumbling through her bag for a lighter only to realize she didn’t have one.
"Perfect. Just perfect."
"Here," a voice said from her side.
She turned, startled, to see a man leaning casually against the bench, holding out a lighter.
The stranger’s face was partly shadowed by the streetlight, his features sharp and unfamiliar. His eyes gleamed with an unsettling calm as he flicked the lighter and held it close.
Kira blinked, hesitating for a second before leaning forward to light her cigarette.
"Thanks," she muttered, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly, letting the smoke curl into the night air.
The man gave a faint smirk and sat beside her without asking.
"I haven’t seen you around here before," Kira said after a moment, eyeing him suspiciously. "You new in the neighborhood?"
He chuckled lowly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Something like that."
His voice was smooth—too smooth for a man who looked like he belonged in this part of town.
Kira’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him. His clothes were plain but clean, his posture too confident, too self-assured for someone living in this area.
Still, curiosity won over suspicion.
"I know everyone who lives here," she said, flicking her ash to the ground. "So yeah, I’d remember that face."
The man turned his head slightly, the dim streetlight catching the curve of his lips as he smiled.
"I moved here recently," he said smoothly, his tone casual but his eyes sharp as they slid over her face. "You know, the rent’s reasonable around here. But what about you?" His head tilted, voice dropping lower. "You don’t seem to like this place much."
Kira exhaled a puff of smoke, the corner of her mouth twisting bitterly. "I don’t," she admitted flatly. "But I don’t have a choice. My aunt lives here."
Her tone was edged with resentment, as if the word aunt itself was poison.
Collin hummed softly, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his gaze. "Ah, family obligations," he said, as if the phrase tasted sweet on his tongue.
Kira scoffed, flicking ash onto the pavement. The image of her aunt turning her back on her—letting the guards drag her away without a second glance—burned in her mind like fire. "If that’s what you call it," she muttered, bitterness dripping from every word.
She took another long drag of the cigarette, the ember glowing fiercely in the dark. Smoking had been her coping mechanism since she was fifteen—a habit picked up from the wrong crowd, one she only indulged in when her life felt like it was collapsing around her.
And tonight, that was exactly how it felt.
"I see," Collin murmured, his gaze thoughtful—or perhaps calculating. It was hard to tell.
They sat in silence after that. The night air buzzed faintly with the hum of distant traffic, the streetlamp flickering above them. The quiet stretched, heavy and strange, until Kira finished the last drag and flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath her heel.
"Thanks again," she said curtly, brushing her hands together before standing.
Collin nodded once, his expression unreadable. "Anytime."
Kira didn’t bother to look back as she turned to leave. Her heels clicked sharply against the cracked pavement, her silhouette growing smaller as the night swallowed her up.
But behind her, Collin’s gaze lingered—his eyes darkening as his faint smile twisted into something far more sinister.
He leaned back against the bench, the faint glow of the streetlight catching the dangerous curve of his grin.
"Interesting," he murmured under his breath, watching the direction she’d gone. "Seems I’ve found the perfect piece for my next move."