Chapter 73

The lights in the Kai residence were dim, the house unusually silent except for the restless sound of heels pacing across polished marble.
Miss Kai couldn’t stay still.

She walked from window to wall, from wall to sofa, as if movement alone could keep disaster at bay. Her hands trembled, not out of fear, but out of a simmering fury she was trying, and failing, to contain.

“Marz is dead,” she whispered to herself, almost chanting it. “And now she’s going to kill Adeline. Maybe… maybe I should order Makizal’s death first.”

Ralph sank into the couch, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at her in disbelief.

“Darling, we already sent agents to protect Adeline,” he murmured. “Trust Romaric.”

“Trust?” she snapped, turning sharply. “Don’t you see he won’t survive this? He cannot handle all of this on his own. I should take back control before everything collapses.”

Ralph stood, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. “Please. Sit down. Breathe. We cannot act like this.”

“But why not?” she demanded. Her voice cracked. “If they’re using force, then I will use force. We have the means. I have the means.”

Ralph’s voice steadied, deeper and firmer than she had ever heard it.

“No. We can’t.”

Miss Kai froze.

“…Why?”

“Because the danger is Williams, not her guards.” Ralph raised his voice, forcing her to hear him.

Miss Kai blinked. It was the first time in years she had heard that stern, commanding tone. She sat down immediately, silencing her frantic thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Ralph said, dropping his voice, instantly regretful of his sharpness.

“No, it’s not your fault. All of this is too much.” She held her head, feeling the immense pressure of their shared, impossible situation.

Ralph knelt beside her. “Don’t say that. Look at what we’re facing. You saw what she did to Romaric. And Makizal? He’s not safe either. If he fails her even once, she’ll erase him too. If we start acting the same way, we’ll enter a never-ending war with our own daughter. Worse, what if she finds out what you’re doing…”

Miss Kai finally grasped the terrifying point Ralph had raised. How would Williams react if Makizal revealed her complicity with Adeline and Romaric? Would her own daughter commission her death? If she called upon a force superior to Makizal, she would enter a face-to-face war with the person she loved most, and for what reason?

“Then… what is the plan?” Miss Kai ran her hands through her immaculate hair, defeated. Ralph was equally exhausted. At his age, he aspired to peacefully live out his retirement and have grandchildren, a dream they shared, knowing her early menopause had sealed their family size. But as long as he was with her, spoiled like a boy, he was content.

“We find Evelyn. We understand why she’s doing all this. And when Williams recovers,” Ralph said, sitting down and gently taking her hands, running his thumb over her knuckles, “you will impose a session with Adeline on her. You still have that agreement for the hospital. If Williams accepts, Adeline will know what to do.”

“But Makizal?”

“When Williams goes there, alone with him, to Adeline’s place, we’ll retrieve him outside.”

Miss Kai stood up abruptly. “Did Romaric explain this to you, or Adeline? Didn’t you hear what Adeline said? Williams interrupted the contract. She surpassed my deal, and she won’t take my calls.” She let herself fall back onto the sofa, the velvet cool against her heated skin. “I’ve already lost my daughter.”

“Come on, dear, calm down. There’s always a solution for everything. Remember everything we’ve been through.” He sat beside her, pulling her close.

Miss Kai looked at him, her gaze suddenly softening. “Why do you love me so much?”

Ralph smiled, the years melting from his face. “Do you want the official reason or the unofficial one?”

“Hmm,” Miss Kai was surprised, a hint of her old self returning. “There are two reasons? I’d like to know both.”

“Well, the first is because you are an intelligent, beautiful, generous, elegant woman, and you cook well,” he teased. He stood up and took her hand, pulling her toward the bedroom.

“That’s a lot. And the other one?”

“Well…” He tugged her hand. “How about we drown our stress in some wine, and I’ll show you?”

“With everything that’s going on right now?”

Ralph pulled her hand harder, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desperate affection. “Come on! In any case, if Williams ends up killing us, why not enjoy our last moments?”

“That’s not funny, Ralph,” she scolded, but a smile touched her lips.

“Sorry,” he straightened up silently, faux-chastened.

“But I opt for white wine and a nice hot shower at 45 degrees with cologne and foam,” Miss Kai added happily, squeezing his hand.

They both smiled, the fear momentarily held at bay, and walked into the bedroom, closing the door on the chaos of the outside world.

Across town, in Yada’s vast, modern home, Kannika stared at the still-shiny wedding ring on her finger. She was propped up on the sofa, bandages stark against her skin, the remnants of her botched mission a constant physical reminder of her professional failure.

A few seconds later, the doorbell rang.

Kannika stood up. But Yada had rushed out of the kitchen, keen to protect her fragile “spouse.”

“Leave it, I’ll get it,” Yada insisted. She opened the door, a wide, easy smile already in place. “Come on, come in.”

It was Jasmine, Yada’s close friend from Social Services. Yada introduced them quickly: “Kannika, I’d like to introduce my friend Jasmine, and Jasmine, this is Kannika.”

“Hi.” Kannika offered a polite, stiff hand, returning quickly to the sofa while Yada and Jasmine joined her.

Jasmine was there to walk them through the coming intervention. “Firstly,” Jasmine began, “you two married just days before your sister’s transfer, which under normal circumstances would raise suspicion. But given her accident… it actually works in your favor.”

“How?” Yada asked.

“You can claim that you’d been together for a while, but the accident opened your eyes. You realized how much she meant to you.”

Kannika frowned. “But we have no proof. No photos. Nothing.”

“You’re an undercover agent, aren’t you?” Jasmine lifted a brow knowingly.

Kannika stiffened.

“It stays between us,” Jasmine reassured. “And it makes sense. You keep your life discreet. You’ve lived here nearly four years. That alone supports a long-term connection.”

Yada looked at Kannika for affirmation. Kannika gave a curt nod. “Yes.”

“Now,” Jasmine continued, “when we intervene, especially for a case like this, we observe body language. Complicity. Natural affection. Smiles. Pet names.” She looked pointedly at Kannika. “If Yada can play the game, you should do the same.”

Kannika looked from Yada to the ring on her finger, the polished metal feeling heavy and false.

“What should we do?” Yada finally asked.

Jasmine smiled, stepping into the role of instructor. “Act like a real couple who just got married. First, you could start by introducing Kannika as your wife, using a pet name you have for each other, or even her real name.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Yada said, seeing Kannika looking absent. “I could hold her hand.” Yada took Kannika’s hand, her fingers warm and soft, and smiled at her, looking into her eyes with genuine affection. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Jasmine replied. Kannika looked at their joined hands, then at Yada’s expressive face, feeling a surge of nervous energy.

“Next, you could stroke her arm or shoulder every time she says something you like or that you agree with.”

“Like this?” Yada said, running her free hand lightly up Kannika’s arm.

“And in public, you could exchange kisses.”

Kannika abruptly stood up, albeit with difficulty, the sudden intimacy overwhelming her. “Enough!”

Yada also stood, her smile vanishing. “I wasn’t going to kiss you!”

“You’re being ridiculous. This is a charade.”

“Do you want your sister or not?” Yada snapped.

Kannika froze, her eyes hurt as she stared at Yada, then at Jasmine. “You’ll have to excuse me.” She hurried out of the room, stiff with unaddressed emotion.

Once she was gone, Yada rushed to her friend. “I’m really sorry about all this.”

“Oh no, don’t worry. I’m used to it. Listen, just give her some time, or talk about it first.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I have to go, we’ll text later.”

“Thank you.” Yada walked her friend to the door. After she closed it, she went to the bedroom and found Kannika had taken off the ring and placed it on the bed.

“What’s going on?” Yada asked, confused.

“I want us to stop this. It wasn’t a good idea.”

“I thought you wanted your sister.”

Kannika rushed to a chest of drawers, pulling out clothes with her less-injured hand. “Do you think marriage is a game?”

“But your sister?”

“I don’t want to involve her in this masquerade.” Kannika pulled out a shirt, stifling a sharp spike of pain in her shoulder. “What will our lives be like when we live here as three? When I travel, or when we sit at a dinner table pretending?” She dropped a pile of clothes. “And when it doesn’t work out anymore, and we have to divorce? Should we wait until she’s of age, or will you take custody of her?”

“Then try to play the game!” Yada yelled, frustrated by the rapid-fire logic and evasion.

“Are you stupid or what?” Kannika spat out, finally cracking under the pressure of all the sudden changes: the mission, the injuries, Evelyn’s disappearance, Marz’s death, and this huge, terrifying commitment.

Yada stepped forward and delivered a light slap to Kannika’s cheek, the sound soft but shocking. “I will not allow you to tell me that!” she hissed, stepping back, crossing her arms. “When I hear you talk, I feel like you’re afraid of having feelings for me! Like you did for your colleague!”

Kannika touched her cheek, stunned by the audacity and passion of Yada’s reaction. What a woman of character! she thought despite herself. “You have no idea what happened with my colleague. And no, I’m not afraid of having feelings for you, it’s quite the opposite,” she added, her voice dropping.

“Look at yourself. We’re talking about your sister, and the subject of a possible exchange of kisses made you run away.”

Kannika felt weakened, defeated. The drawer was open, the clothes scattered. She saw the sheer absurdity of her attempt to pack her bags. She looked up and saw this beautiful, furious woman who had just slapped her.

“If we’re married, who’s the boss?” Kannika asked, an odd, challenging light in her eyes.

Yada blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“Who’s the boss, who dictates the laws here?”

“Is that important?”

“You slapped me.”

“Because you called me stupid. Wait! you want to be the boss so you can slap me?”

“I just want to know… Forget it,” Kannika said, sitting heavily on the bed, all her defiance draining away. “I’m tired of all this.”

Yada moved closer to her and sat next to her. She waited patiently before Kannika added in a sorrowful voice, staring into the dark grain of the wood floor:

“Too many things. First, my mission, Evelyn, who disappeared, all this story about the hospital, and now this marriage, my sister. I regret having chosen this profession.”

“But I find it commendable,” Yada replied gently.

“There’s nothing commendable about this sacrifice. When I can’t even help those who matter to me.”

Unconsciously, Yada reached out and stroked Kannika’s hand. “But I like secret agents.”

Kannika looked at Yada’s hand, then their eyes met.

“Sorry,” Yada immediately withdrew her hand, standing up quickly. “I mean, my mother…”

Kannika nodded, then stood up; the tension slightly eased. “Tell me, Yada Khaisang, how many women have you been in a relationship with before this marriage?”

Yada blinked nervously, then forced a dazzling, entirely fake smile. “Well, seven or more. You know, I’m successful in relationships. You should consider yourself lucky that I want to offer myself to help you.” She was bluffing wildly, but Kannika saw the lies in her eyes, sketching a slight smile of her own.

“And can I see pictures?”

“Why?”

“If I’m your wife, I can demand it.”

“I… you know, I keep… I mean, there’s no trace left,” Yada stammered, crossing her arms tightly.

“You’re not a secret agent, you’re a lawyer. Keeping traces is your job.”

Yada blinked nervously. “It’s inappropriate to talk about exes if we are married.”

Kannika looked at the ring again, and her expression softened with genuine sorrow for the first time. But this time, Yada was serious. “Listen,” she said, sitting back down next to her, “I know this is all strange. But it depends on you. When you travel, I’ll go for walks with your sister, and we’ll even have family dinners and send you photos. You and I could also go out; we don’t have to lock ourselves up. We’ll go to family dinners, visit friends, and, why not, enjoy movies and restaurants?”

Kannika looked at her, truly seeing the earnest woman beside her. “We’re not really married.”

“Come on,” Yada collapsed onto the bed, tired of the emotional push-pull. “Not all marriages have to start with love. We could live first. And then after Social Services passes, we could find Evelyn together, and Romaric is already on the case in the meantime.”

Hearing these words, Kannika watched Yada, this woman lying down with her eyes closed, radiating a weary optimism. What if Yada wasn’t just helping her because she was indebted to her brother, but because she was tired of loneliness? Yada’s apartment was vast and quiet, and Kannika knew that crushing, daily solitude well. If Yada had gone to so much trouble to make the plan real, then she would make it easier for her.

“Call me Kiya.”

“Kiya?” Yada sat up, astonished.

“That’s my first name. You saw it when you signed the certificate, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, Kiya,” Yada breathed. She watched Kannika take the ring and put it back on her finger. “In the evening, I like to drink hot chocolate in front of the TV, when I get the chance. We could start with that.”

“Of course,” Yada smiled, relief flooding her.

“Then, I’m going to…” Kiya bent down to tidy up the mess she had created, but Yada rushed in and gently intervened.

“No, it’s okay,” she said, holding Kiya’s uninjured hand. Their eyes met for a second too long, a nervous, electric connection sparking between them. “You go lie down in the living room, I’ll make you milk, and don’t worry, I’ll tidy up.”

For a second, Kiya saw the young woman in front of her, capable, and now demonstrating a tenderness that made her feel oddly embarrassed.

“Thank you,” Kiya managed to say, before rushing out to the living room.

So, was she afraid that Yada would fall in love with her, or that she would be the one to succumb to the sweet, genuine touch of the other lawyer?

Sa ii ko thanks you for your reading. Every vote and comment helps this story continue.