‘Cal…’ he muttered under his breath, and memories he hadn’t dared touch in years surged forward, crashing over him like a river long buried, carrying the ache, the warmth, and the weight of a past he thought he had lost.”

“What else can I serve you?” she asked again, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips.

Calvin was both surprised and confused by her sudden change. His eyes stayed fixed on her as she spoke, this was not the same aura she had carried six years ago before they had parted.

Simultaneously, Cleopatra picked a crimson grape and held it out to him, her fingers brushing delicately against his, inviting him to take it from her.

“Try this crimson grape,” she said, holding it out. “It’s healthy and will give you a boost of energy.”

In an instant, Calvin seized her hand, halting her attempt to feed him the grape.

“What is this?!” he demanded, his tone so cold it seemed to slice through the room. “Are you merely doing your job, or messing with me?!”

“I’m merely serving you,” she replied, her calm demeanor contrasting sharply with his icy glare.

“Is this how you serve everyone else?” His tone was sharp and demanding, laced with jealousy.

“No, no. I only set the table and leave. I’m not an escort, but for you, I want to serve you beyond that.”

He spoke with a frosty calm. “Serve me, but nothing more.” One leg crossed over the other, he leaned back, watching her carefully.

At the same moment Cleopatra caught the glimpse of his coldness but couldn't know if he was still angry at her about choosing Anthony or if he move on from her but she wouldn't budge and pressed forward

“Okay if you insist, your glass is empty I will pour you some wine”

She poured the wine into the glass and gave it to him intentionally, letting her hand brush against his. Their eyes met and like magnetic force not wanting to pull away from each other.

“How is work going? I know it's coming late to congratulate you for being the CEO of INK Model” her eyes still locked into his as says those words to him

Meanwhile, his eyes were glued to her pouty lips as she spoke, every word igniting something fierce within him. He swallowed hard, struggling to choke back the storm of desire and frustration swirling through his chest.

“Sure so now I’m finally getting congratulations, four years after becoming CEO,” he smirked, tossing his head aside with playful exasperation.

In an instant, she caught his hand with both of hers, pouting like a child as if silently pleading.

“I’m sorry for hurting you back then. I know there’s no excuse for how I behaved, but I’m truly sorry for everything.” Her eyes drooped, heavy with sorrow.

She knew Calvin had every reason to treat her coldly. After all, she had inflicted pain by pushing him away and letting Anthony take her choice.

“I know I was too foul-mouthed with you and with Anthony—”

The mere mention of Anthony sent fire through every fiber of his being, and he stopped her mid sentence

His voice dripped with fury. “Don’t you dare speak his name in front of me! Do you miss him so much that you have to say it right in my face?!”

His hand clasped hers with a force that made her heart skip. His jaw clenched, eyes burning like fire, and every fiber of his being radiated tension at the sound of that name.

She froze for a moment, then lightly patted his hand, her voice trembling. “No… no! I didn’t mean it that way,” she whispered, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “We… we didn’t even—”

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Smith strode in, cutting through the chaos outside. Every pair of eyes instantly turned toward him.

“Chairman! Miss Guinevere is here, she insists on being let in!”

Cleopatra knew exactly what all the fuss was about. “Let her in,” she commanded.

Smith turned to Calvin, eyes waiting for his orders.

“It’s alright. Do as she said,” he said, waving his hand.

Smith opened the door and ushered Guinevere inside, then stepped out of the room.

As Guinevere stepped inside, the sight struck her like a bolt of lightning. Cleopatra and Calvin sat dangerously close, drawn together like an unbreakable magnet and iron. Her heart plunged, sinking straight into her chest.

“Hi, Cleo. I’ve been trying to reach you on the phone, but you weren’t answering,” she said, walking in and intentionally attempting to seat herself between them.

Cleopatra reacted instantly, stopping her in her tracks and steering her away, firmly settling her into the chair opposite them.

“Guinevere, you really shouldn’t inconvenience a VIP,” Cleopatra said coolly. “Please, remain seated there.”

The words were smooth and polite, yet beneath them ran a sharp current of mockery, striking with quiet, precise force.

“What are you talking about? A VIP?” Guinevere scoffed. “It’s Calvin, he’s my CEO.”

Cleopatra paid no mind to Guinevere.

Her fingers grazed a grape as she lifted it from the bowl, eyes fixed on Calvin with a mischievous, almost daring intensity. Slowly, deliberately, she brought it to his lips, the space between them humming with unspoken tension.

“Open your mouth, Cal,” she purred, her voice dripping with sultry mischief. “Let me tempt you, let me treat you sweetly.”

Then, with a poised elegance, she turned her attention to Guinevere.

“He may be your CEO,” Cleopatra murmured, her eyes smoldering with a dangerous, irresistible allure, “but in my domain he’s mine.” Her smirk lingered, sharp and teasing, cutting through the air like a blade. “Isn’t it only proper to indulge my clients? After all, would it not be unbearably rude to interrupt?”

Calvin stood frozen, a storm of confusion and desire swirling within him as their words volleyed back and forth. Every glance, every subtle movement was etched into his mind, yet his lips remained sealed, his body still a silent observer caught in the electric tension between them.

Guinevere’s eyes widened in shock, stunned that Cleopatra could look her dead in the eye and speak such audacious words.

“Ah, right,” Guinevere said softly. “I suppose it wouldn’t be respectful to interfere with your work.” Her composure was strained, barely holding.

“Bingo!” Cleopatra’s voice rang out, her head tilting toward Calvin’s shoulder, slow and charged with an undeniable electricity.

“Indeed, escorts are always possessive of their clients, not just one,” Guinevere said, her eyes blazing as they locked onto Cleopatra’s.

“Can you really call your manager a model?” Cleopatra asked, her tone sharp and laced with challenge.

“Of course not!” Guinevere snapped.

"Good,” Cleopatra said, her tone laced with teasing disdain. “Seems your two brain cells are still managing to function.”

“You—”

Cleopatra cut her off sharply, her gaze unwavering.

“It’s the same here. There’s a difference between a server and an escort,” she said, her tone sharp and unwavering.

As anger surged through her, Guinevere snatched a glass of wine and downed it in a single, defiant gulp.

Another chime echoed through the room as Alvin burst in, carrying two cans.

“I apologize, Mr. Ink. We ran out of citrus freshener, so we rushed to get more,” he said, motioning as his staff placed the cans with meticulous precision. “I hope the service meets your standards. Please, inform me if anything displeases you.”

His sharp gaze sliced through the lingering tension in the room.

“Very well. Enjoy your evening,” he said, bowing gracefully before departing with his staff.

“You shouldn’t drink so much, do you want to ruin that flawless skin of yours?” Cleopatra’s voice dripped with playful scorn, her eyes flashing like sparks. “Honestly, bestie, I’m still on duty, I’ll get back to your call later.”

Cleopatra stepped closer, her voice a soft whisper. “You just go on ahead, alright?” She gently guided her toward the open space.

Guinevere grabbed her immediately, her voice trembling in a whisper. “What’s going on? Are you cool with Calvin now?”

“I don’t remember ever not being cool with him,” Cleopatra replied smoothly. “I’ve got work to do, bestie. Bye for now.”

She closed the door behind her and turned, striding toward Calvin with a bright, teasing smile.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be cool?” he asked, confusion flickering across his face.

You shouldn't concern yourself with her, okay?” Cleopatra murmured, stretching out her hand to caress his cheek.

After serving Calvin a few drinks, he rose, only for Cleopatra to stop him, holding out her phone.

“Please… please can you input your number?” she asked, eyes locked on him.

Calvin, masking his hesitation, muttered, “Sure,” and typed in his number before giving her a nod and a brief goodbye.

Stepping outside, he turned to Smith, “Settle the bills and meet me in the car.”

He left without a moment’s hesitation, his guards flanking him like shadows. Calvin slid into the car, and a few minutes later, Smith took the driver’s seat. Calvin’s gaze lingered on the call window, his hand folded beneath his chin, sharp and focused, until he finally broke the silence in a measured, commanding voice.

“Hire a skilled investigator. I want everything about Cleopatra uncovered, leave no stone unturned.”

A week later, Cleopatra was jolted awake by a message from Katie, summoning her to the INK Model Company. She rose immediately, freshened up, and in the midst of breakfast, her gaze drifted to the wardrobe she'd already inspected, nothing inside would truly make her shine.

Once she finished her meal, Cleopatra rose from the table, neatly clearing away her plate before stepping outside. She headed toward a nearby department store renowned for its collection of designer wear, her strides purposeful as a quiet resolve settled in her chest.

"Good morning, ma'am. How may I assist you?" one of the attendants said, dressed in a crisp uniform as he ushered her inside.

"What's your style? We can help you achieve the perfect look," the staff member added, his tone warm and inviting.

"Hmm..." Cleopatra replied, after a brief pause. "I'll go with a shorter sexy gown,"

"Right this way, ma'am," he said, leading her forward with a polite, guiding gesture.

Cleopatra moved through the racks with the staff, her fingers grazing the fabrics as they sifted through the store's designer collection. Amid the rustle of silk and chiffon, a familiar voice cut through the ambient murmur, sharp and unmistakable. Her heart skipped a beat. Without hesitation, she excused herself, weaving quietly between the displays to get a glimpse.

There, seated elegantly on a pair of plush chairs, were Guinevere and her mother, Emilia, engrossed in conversation, their laughter and gentle gestures painting a scene both intimate and commanding. Cleopatra's eyes lingered, curiosity and a flicker of tension coiling in her chest.

"How are your modeling gigs going? Having any trouble on set?" Emilia asked, her hand gesturing with authority toward the outfits the staff presented, as if commanding the clothes themselves to obey her discerning eye.

"Nothing new, still stuck at the bottom," Guinevere snapped, irritation dripping from every word. "I don't get why that incompetent idiot of a manager can't even get through to Calvin."

She averted her gaze from the staff displaying the clothes. "That reminds me, I saw Calvin on the news," Emilia said, astonished. "Honey, he's not only incredibly handsome, but talented. You need to catch his attention."

"I've been busting my ass for six damn years trying to get his attention," Guinevere snapped, venom lacing every word. "And he hasn't even glanced my way! All he cares about is that worthless Cleo."

"What do you mean, Cleo? Isn't she supposed to be in Castren District?" Emilia asked, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto Guinevere with sharp curiosity.

"She's back," Guinevere said, running a hand through her hair, frustration and disbelief etched across her face. "She arrived in Marvale a month or two ago, I'm not exactly sure and she seems so different from before. She's like an entirely different person. Oh, my head I don't know, maybe I'm imagining things, but she really does act differently now."

"What's wrong with that foolish girl?" Emilia scoffed, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Wasn't she all over Anthony back then even going so far as to lie that he tried to rape her?"

"Is she going around seducing every man she sets her sights on?" Emilia's voice dripped with disgust. "Insolent. She should know her place and not let her beauty go to her head. But tell me, why is her being around causing you problems?"

"She's all over Calvin now, dangling for his attention like a predator circling its prey!" Guinevere's voice trembled with a mix of fury and panic. Her legs bounced uncontrollably beneath her, and her hands gripped them tightly, knuckles white, as if holding herself together could somehow contain the storm of frustration raging inside her. "What am I supposed to do if they get together, Mom? I can't... I just can't stand it!"

Cleopatra felt no desire to continue eavesdropping. She turned to leave, but then Emilia dropped a bombshell that froze her in place; a revelation so shocking, it was something Cleopatra had never noticed in her past life.

"How shameless can she be?" Emilia sneered, her voice thick with venom. "I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, like mother, like daughter. I could never stand her mother when she was alive. She spared me the trouble by dying in that accident with her husband. Otherwise, I would still be compared to her by your father. I was so tired of seeing that irritating face, always pretending to be kind while painting me as the villain." Her words dripped with unrestrained hatred.

"Really, Mom? I had no idea Dad compared you to her," Guinevere said, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Honestly, that accident saved my face. If she hadn't been so hardworking and constantly busy with her husband, I might have thought she and your father had an entanglement," Emilia said, her laughter bitter. "Bringing Cleopatra into the house after their death wasn't my decision, it was your father's."

"Bloody hell, Mom! I always thought it was your decision to let her stay," Guinevere exclaimed, sitting up abruptly, her mouth opening in stunned surprise.

"Nah. I could never stand her mother, so how could I possibly tolerate her daughter? Disgusting," Emilia said, pointing sharply at a dress the staff had just displayed.

The staff member attending Cleopatra approached her and tapped gently. "Excuse me, ma'am, aren't you interested in this design?"

Cleopatra's world seemed to tilt violently as the words sank in. Her head spun, her vision blurred, and a crushing weight pressed on her chest. Staggering, she felt her knees weaken, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as panic and disbelief surged through her. Her voice caught in her throat, unable to form words, and the staff quickly rushed to her side, wrapping steadying arms around her as she trembled, on the brink of a full emotional breakdown.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" he asked, concern etching his face.

"Restroom... restroom... your restroom," Cleopatra mumbled incoherently, her voice trembling.

"That way," he said gently, guiding her. "Let me take you there."

The staff guided her to the restroom, and Cleopatra stumbled inside. She went straight to the sink, twisting the tap and splashing cold water onto her face, trying to steady herself. Her heart pounded violently, each breath coming in ragged gasps as a sinking dread gripped her chest.

'What did I just hear? How could she take pleasure in someone's death, especially one caused by such a tragic accident? Mrs. Emilia never liked us? How could she have kept it hidden around Mom? How could she pretend so subtly, so perfectly? Was this something from my past life, or did I simply never notice? All this time, so much hatred. And Mom... Mom never did anything to deserve even a fraction of it.'

Her thoughts swirled relentlessly through her mind as she stared into the mirror.

"Can I really fight this..." she sighed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Can I rewrite my destiny?" She clenched the edge of the sink, determination flaring within her. "I won't give up. I can still make it to that gate."

Gradually, her confidence built, only to be instantly replaced by a surge of courage. She stepped out of the restroom with steady, purposeful strides, drawn to a dress that seemed to call her name. After paying, she slipped out through the side exit, the evening breeze brushing gently against her face. When she arrived home, Ana was already there, standing by the door as if she had been waiting for her all along.

"Hi, Ana. What are you doing here?" Cleopatra asked, her eyes drifting to the package Ana held.

"Wow! You're seriously asking me what I'm doing here?" Ana snapped, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Have you already forgotten? You specifically asked me this morning to bring you a new set of beauty products!"

"Oh, yes. I'm so sorry, I completely forgot. Come in." Cleopatra said, laughter bubbling between her words.

"I... I can't," Ana stammered. "I'm still on duty. I only came to deliver this because you said it was urgent. And honestly, I was stunned when you asked for beauty products. You owe me the tea, and you must spill it all. I have to go now, bye!"

Cleopatra glided into the bathroom, shedding the day with ease before slipping into her new plum gown an Orchid-colored vision of elegance. The sleeveless design traced her shoulders, plunging into a V-shaped neckline that hinted at her cleavage, while the open back was threaded with delicate laces that crisscrossed along her upper back. The plum gown draped over her thighs, resting softly against her skin. Soft and enticing, accentuating every graceful curve.

She settled in front of the mirror, curling her hair and applying makeup with painstaking care. The reflection staring back at her was mesmerizing, too beautiful, too perfect. A soft smile curved her lips, filled with pride and a quiet affection for the effort she had poured into her appearance.

"Now, it's time to see Calvin,"she murmured, a flicker of anticipation igniting in her eyes.