While everyone stared at Aurora, expecting a reaction, she remained utterly indifferent. Unbothered. Steady. Every movement she made—every bite she took—was deliberate, controlled, as if she had not just sent a wave of tension crashing over the table.
Then, without haste, she spoke. “Didn’t you tell me he would be mine, Father? I need to set my game. Wasn’t that the plan all along?”
She set her fork down, aligning it perfectly on the edge of her plate, then straightened herself. And in that moment, she no longer wore the face of a carefree daughter teasing her family. The shift was instant. Her true presence revealed itself—piercing black eyes that seemed to swallow the light, an aura of darkness so intense it became almost breathtaking. The contrast was striking, making her beauty all the more haunting.
“Has something changed?” she asked, her voice low but laced with a quiet challenge.
Her father met her gaze without flinching. His expression darkened, his presence growing heavier, a reflection of the same dangerous energy that Aurora exuded. “The Salvadors are not a game. Let’s establish that first. And remember—you belong here before you set foot anywhere else.”
Aurora scoffed, tilting her head slightly as if studying him. Then, with careless amusement, she muttered, “Oh? Are you scared, Father? Scared I might choose a different side?”
She laughed—a soft, sharp sound that seemed to dig into the quiet air. And then, with an eerie calm, she picked up her fork again. “Where do I truly belong, then?” she mused before resuming her meal as if nothing had happened.
But Joseph had a different answer.
The sound of his fork slamming against the table echoed through the room. His gaze, sharp and murderous, bore into Aurora.
“You belong here. Or you don’t exist at all.”
A smirk crept onto Aurora’s lips as she dipped her head slightly, a glint of mischief in her eyes. The rest of the family tensed—Joseph had never shown anger before, had never even stood up for anything. His fear had always outweighed his rage. But not this time.
Silence stretched for a moment before the meal resumed, tension thick yet unspoken.
Lady Assie, ever composed, took a delicate bite of her food before speaking softly, “Don’t turn this into chaos, then. If they find out you’ve infiltrated their ground, things may take a step back.”
Aurora, unfazed, reached for the water pitcher. She poured a glass, her movements as graceful as ever, then slid it across the table toward Joseph, who still hadn’t broken eye contact with her.
“Joseph won’t let that happen.”
His gaze didn’t waver as he accepted the glass. His grip was tight around it, his jaw clenched. He raised it to his lips, ready to drink—until Victor spoke up, a quiet smirk playing on his face.
“You’re sure she didn’t poison it?” he mused, taking another casual bite of his meal.
Joseph downed the entire glass in one motion. Then, placing it down, he exhaled and muttered, “If it’s by her hands, I’d rather die.”Aurora smiled gently, and so did her parents. Then, looking directly at her uncle, she said:
"I think you'll die soon since you talk too much."
Victor burst into laughter. He wasn’t one to talk much, and even when things turned tense at the dinner table, he never seemed to care. He then replied sarcastically:
"Did you not see Joseph’s look? He was about to kill you for real."
Everyone started laughing again, except for Joseph, who, as usual, didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t realize that Aurora was trying to show them that Joseph was no longer the timid, tearful child he once was—he had grown bold enough to spill his sister’s blood if she ever broke the rules.
What Aurora truly intended was to remind her father of the promise she had made to him when she was just ten years old.
The atmosphere gradually returned to normal. They continued discussing her presence at the Salvador Hotel, with Aurora recounting the story from the beginning, describing the events as if she were a child excitedly narrating her day.
At times, they laughed, and at others, they expressed frustration—especially toward Hector, whom Aurora repeatedly pointed out as nothing more than a narcissistic show-off.
Dinner finally came to an end, and it was time for Aurora to prepare to leave. Her visit home was merely to inform them of what she was doing.
Despite the doubts creeping into her mind, the entire situation might have already been planned between her parents and Hector’s parents.
As she laughed and talked, she kept a watchful eye on her father, sensing something different about him.
But for now, they were just suspicions. Nothing was certain yet about whether both families had deliberately placed her and Hector in that place together.
It was exactly midnight, yet Aurora was still at her family’s house.
Dinner had ended, but before leaving, she had a conversation with her parents. They wanted a moment alone with her, and for Aurora, it was an opportunity to put her doubts to rest regarding the thoughts swirling in her mind.
Meanwhile, Victor and Joseph sat together on one of the palace balconies, sipping wine in silence. Neither spoke a word to the other; they simply gazed into the dark summer sky, which seemed to mark the final nights of the season.
Or perhaps it was something else entirely—an unshakable feeling that accompanied the stillness of the night.
Perhaps it was the last of the peaceful nights, now that Aurora was about to stir the game once again.
In Aurora’s parents’ room, Lady Assie stood on the balcony, holding a glass of wine in her hand, gazing at the sky. Meanwhile, Mr. Kidd sat on the luxurious black sofa in their room, about to light a cigarette.
Aurora, on the other hand, was delicately examining the family photos that adorned the room.
Her mother turned toward her with warmth in her eyes and asked, “Isn’t it dangerous for you to go there?”
Aurora smiled as she traced a family picture with her fingertips. “Being a family is what I truly cherish, Mother. I would never gamble my life recklessly.”
She then picked up the photo and turned to her father, who had been silently listening. Hugging him from behind, she asked, “Isn’t that right, Father?”
Aurora, despite her playful demeanor, was feared by everyone—not because of brute force but because she mastered the art of psychological manipulation. No one could ever tell when she was telling the truth or when she was lying.
Her father placed his hand over hers, which rested on his shoulder, and said, “You know I can’t lie to you.”
Aurora playfully ran her fingers through his hair before placing the photo back in its spot. “I’ll be going now to check on my game,” she said with a slight nod, smiling at her mother before stepping out of the room.
As she left, Lady Assie turned to Mr. Kidd and asked, “Did you do something again without my knowledge?”
Mr. Kidd continued smoking his cigarette, then gestured for his wife to sit on his lap.
Lady Assie approached him gracefully, still holding her glass of wine. As she settled onto his lap, he put out his cigarette at the same time. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he traced his fingers along hers and said, “She was about to, so I made the first move to protect our little girl.”
It was as if Lady Assie understood what he was implying, but she couldn’t quite grasp the full extent of it.
She placed the wine glass on the small table beside the sofa, then bit her lip as she adjusted her position on his lap. A slight shiver ran through her as she leaned her body against his chest, pushing him back slowly onto the couch that could barely hold them both.
Her dress tore, unable to withstand the force of her movement, revealing her pale, glowing thighs. Wrapping both legs around her husband’s waist, she found herself trapped in his firm grasp as he swiftly lifted her and placed her onto the couch beneath him.
Leaning over her, he smirked and whispered, “Darling, it’s as if you’re trying to assassinate me.”
As Aurora stepped away from the palace, her figure was watched closely by both Joseph and Victor. She moved with unwavering confidence, heading toward a motorcycle, her black dress flowing around her like a shadow.
Her face bore the expression of a killer—an intoxicating mix of anticipation and excitement. It was as if she were on the verge of setting everything ablaze, and yet, no one dared to stop her.
Because she was the undisputed queen of them all.
Not far from the Al Batris family's estate—known to everyone as the Black Princess’s Palace—Hector sat astride his motorcycle on a suspension bridge that separated the capital from its outskirts. A cigarette dangled between his fingers as he stared blankly at the road leading to the estate, his mind void of thoughts.
He stared ahead until a black blur rushed past him. It was Aurora, speeding across the bridge on her motorcycle. His gaze followed her instinctively before he quickly mounted his own bike, revving the engine in pursuit.
Pushing his speed to the limit, he closed the distance between them. Just as he was about to reach her, she came to an abrupt stop—right at the end of the bridge. Instead of continuing, she turned slightly, as if waiting for him.
Hector pulled up beside her, dismounted, and yanked off his helmet. For a fleeting moment, he looked striking—his usual arrogance momentarily absent. Without thinking, he reached out to remove Aurora’s helmet, but he halted as he saw her step off her bike, assuming she would take it off herself.
She stood tall before him, her presence commanding, the difference in their height barely noticeable thanks to her high heels. She stepped closer, so near that their bodies almost touched. Then, with a swift movement, she shoved him against his motorcycle, leaning in just enough to whisper in his ear, "Not now."
The teasing lilt in her voice echoed in his ears, her mocking smile lingering in his mind as she turned away.
Hector clenched his jaw, his lips pressing into a tight line as he watched her straddle her bike once more. She muttered under her breath, irritated, "Damn that arrogant bastard, now I have to take the longer route."
Meanwhile, Hector remained frozen in place, a lump forming in his throat. How could she just leave like that? His pride burned at the thought.
"I’m Hector… And I was left behind? Just like that?!"
His frustration boiled over, and he shouted into the night, his voice echoing across the bridge. He turned in circles, his fists clenched, before finally resigning himself to his fate and heading back to the hotel.
The night had ended, and everyone had returned to their place. As the sun's rays began to rise, they found Aurora sitting on the balcony of the room she shared with Lynn, who was still deep in sleep—perhaps due to staying up late.
Aurora, however, was fully awake despite having slept for only an hour. Dressed in a long white shirt, left by the organizers as pajamas for the participants, she stood there, her body bathed in the soft morning breeze. The wind played with her black locks, her blue eyes sparkled in the golden light, and a gentle smile graced her lips. She was well aware that someone on the other side was watching her.
Hector stood on his own balcony, staring at Aurora intently, his gaze tracing her features and the way the morning light touched her skin. He assumed she hadn’t noticed him—after all, she was just another participant who wasn’t even supposed to be there.
But in truth, Aurora had already begun her game.
Just as she was about to turn back into her room, her eyes met his. She blinked, then tilted her head slightly, as if just realizing his presence.
“Oh, you’re here… Good morning. Umm… what was your name again?” she asked, feigning innocence, as if struggling to recall.
Hector’s jaw tensed, but he responded casually, “Ah… good morning.”
Then, as if uninterested, he turned to go back inside.
Just as he was about to step in, Aurora called out in the softest, most feminine voice, “Hector.”
Something about the way she said his name made him pause. He turned around, almost spellbound, only to see her tilting her head with an air of childlike curiosity.
“That is your name, right?” she continued playfully. “Lynn told me, but I barely remembered.”
With that, she stepped back into her room, leaving Hector frozen in place, his face contorted with confusion and curiosity.
A new day had begun. A new game was in motion.
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