It was 2:16 AM when Catlina stumbled into Celina’s room.

The grand Osora estate was silent except for the soft tick of the old hallway clock and the low hum of rain brushing the windows. Celina was already in bed, tangled in silk sheets, scrolling idly through old photos on her phone—photos of Arias and her brother Osora, perfect and poised. Pretending.

And then Catlina appeared.

She was barefoot. Her lipstick was smudged. The bottle of wine swinging in her hand had only a sliver left. her long dress being dragged on the cold floor And her eyes—those sharp, calculating emeralds—were unfocused.

“Wrong room,” Celina said, her voice tight, forcing a flatness she didn’t feel.

Catlina leaned on the doorframe, laughing softly, her silhouette a blur in the golden light from the hallway.

“Was it?” she said, voice low, slurred—but not that slurred. “Funny. Your bed always looked softer.”

Celina sat up, heart kicking faster. “Go sleep it off.”

Catlina stepped inside. The wine bottle clinked softly as she placed it on the vanity, her eyes locked on Celina. She didn’t blink. She didn’t smile.

“You know he’s in love with Arias,” Catlina said, voice delicate now. “Your brother. I always knew.”

Celina swallowed. “He told me.”

“I played my part,” Catlina went on. “The fiancé. The beautiful woman with perfect posture and a cold smile. I did it all. For status. For safety.”

She moved closer. The air between them tensed like a wire ready to snap.

“But I’m not safe right now,” she whispered. “And neither are you.”

Celina’s breath caught. “Go back to your room.”

“Why?” Catlina tilted her head. “Afraid you’ll let me kiss you again?”

Celina’s stomach dropped. “You kissed me.”

“You didn’t stop me,” Catlina said. Celina looked away. The rain was louder now. Or maybe her heart was.

Catlina moved to the bed, sitting beside her. Not touching, but close enough that Celina could smell her perfume—something dark and heady with wine and secrets. “You’ve been watching me since the night of the gala,” Catlina said. “That night in the bathroom. Remember? When you fixed my necklace. You touched the back of my neck for too long.”

“It was tangled,” Celina muttered.

“You were trembling.”

Celina looked at her, finally. Her jaw clenched. “You’re drunk.”