The hallway outside Lani's apartment echoed with the tension between her and Maverick as they approached her neighbor's door.
Maverick's pleas to turn back fell on deaf ears as Lani's fury was far too intense to ignore.
Ms. Clinton had crossed the line when she called the police on her, and Lani wasn't one to let things slide.
She had no choice but to deal with the old woman now.
"Baby, just let the old woman alone," Maverick's voice was soft, filled with concern, but it only fueled Lani's determination.
"No, Mav, I must deal with this old hag today. How dare she call the police on me? Me!" Lani's voice rose with each word, her anger boiling over as she reached Ms. Clinton's door.
Lani pounded on the door with the flat of her hand, each bang echoing down the hallway.
"Open up, you old hag! I know you're in there. Open up before I kick this door down!"
A creak echoed from behind the door, and Ms. Clinton appeared.
She stepped out cautiously but stood tall, a baseball bat clutched firmly in her hands.
Her steely eyes met Lani's with defiance.
"Come at me, and you'll see," Ms. Clinton growled, her voice low but steady as she gripped the bat tighter.
Lani laughed—a sharp, derisive sound.
"Wow, look at this. This old bitch is actually trying me!" she sneered, her lips curling into a smirk.
"Lani, leave her alone," Maverick said, stepping in closer and grabbing her arm gently. "She's not worth it."
Lani paused for a moment, her eyes flicking between Ms. Clinton and Maverick.
The fire in her veins cooled slightly, logic seeping in.
As much as she wanted to teach the old woman a lesson, Maverick had a point. She wasn't worth the trouble.
"Fine," Lani said, stepping back. "Let's go."
Just as they turned to leave, Ms. Clinton's voice cut through the air, sharp as a knife. "Rats."
That one word, dripping with venom, was enough to reignite Lani's anger.
Without hesitation, she spun on her heel and charged back toward Ms. Clinton.
Her fist shot up, ready to strike, when the sound of pounding footsteps stopped her in her tracks.
"Lani, you actually want to hit my grandmother?" A deep voice boomed through the hallway.
Ethan, Ms. Clinton's grandson, had just come out of the elevator and rushed toward them, fury etched into his features.
He shoved Lani back, not enough to hurt her but enough to create distance between her and his grandmother.
Lani staggered slightly but regained her balance, glaring at Ethan. "You touch me again, and I'll make sure you regret it," she warned, her voice cold as ice.
But Ethan wasn't paying attention to her.
His focus had shifted to Maverick, and the tension between the two men crackled like electricity.
"How dare you touch my baby!" Maverick roared, stepping forward and shoving Ethan hard.
Ethan stumbled back, his face twisting in anger before he quickly recovered, his fists clenching. Without warning, Ethan threw a punch that connected squarely with Maverick's jaw.
The force of the blow sent Maverick crashing to the ground.
"Mav!" Lani dropped to her knees beside him, her heart pounding as she checked his face.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but Maverick simply wiped it away, laughing darkly as he rose to his feet.
"Looks like you're not over my Lani," Maverick taunted, his grin spreading despite the blood.
"Your Lani?" Ethan spat the words, his face twisting in disdain. "You'll never make her happy like I did."
The air thickened with old, unresolved emotions, and Lani felt a knot tighten in her chest.
She and Ethan had once been inseparable, a couple everyone envied.
But things had fallen apart, and Lani had moved on. Or so she thought.
Ms. Clinton, who had been standing silently, suddenly clutched her chest and collapsed to the floor. "Grandma, what's wrong?" Ethan rushed to her side, his voice filled with concern.
The old woman's eyes blazed with anger as she pointed a trembling finger at Lani. "Did… did you ever date this thief?" Her voice quivered with a mixture of disbelief and rage.
"Who are you calling a thief?" Lani snapped, her anger flaring again. She turned to Maverick for support. "Who is she calling a thief?"
"Not you, baby," Maverick reassured her, his arm wrapping protectively around her. "She's just talking nonsense."
Ethan hesitated, his face tightening as if he were debating whether to answer his grandmother's question.
The tension between him and Ms. Clinton was obvious, and it seemed like this confrontation had cracked open more than just old wounds.
Maverick, never one to miss an opportunity, grinned and added fuel to the fire. "Come on, Ethan. Are you afraid to tell Grandma that you and Lani dated before she dumped you for me?"
Ms. Clinton's face contorted with shock, and she clutched her chest again, gasping dramatically. "Grandma, are you okay?" Ethan's voice was filled with genuine concern this time.
Ms. Clinton pushed his hands away and struggled to her feet, her face a mask of fury. "You're no longer my grandson," she spat, her voice cold and final.
With a firm shove, she slammed the door in his face.
Maverick's laughter echoed through the hallway, but Lani felt a strange heaviness settle over her.
Despite everything, seeing Ethan so defeated, so vulnerable, tugged at something deep inside her.
Old feelings she thought she had buried long ago began to stir, but she quickly shook them off.
"Come on," Maverick said, pulling her toward their apartment. "Let's leave him to deal with his grandma issues."
Without another word, they disappeared into Lani's apartment, leaving Ethan alone in the hallway, frantically knocking on the door and begging Ms. Clinton to let him in.
---
Across town, in the lavish halls of the palace, preparations for Prince Arthur's return home ball were in full swing.
The grand ballroom was a sight to behold, with towering chandeliers casting a warm glow over the gleaming marble floors.
Gold-trimmed drapes adorned the walls, and tables were set with the finest china and crystal, ready to welcome the kingdom's elite.
Camille, the queen consort, entered the ballroom with an air of quiet authority.
Dressed in a stunning emerald gown, she commanded the attention of everyone present.
Her eyes swept over the preparations, and a satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
A woman in charge of the event hurried over, bowing her head respectfully. "Welcome, Your Majesty."
"I must say, I love what you've done with the place," Camille said, her eyes sparkling as she surveyed the room.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," the woman replied, clearly pleased by the queen consort's approval.
"I'll take a look around," Camille said, her tone soft but commanding.
"It will be my pleasure, Your Majesty," the woman replied with a deep bow before returning to her duties.
Camille wandered the ballroom, her sharp eyes catching every detail.
The grandeur of the event was undeniable, but something else caught her attention as she moved toward one of the tables.
A glint of silver among the cutlery.
She stopped, her breath hitching slightly as she realized what she was looking at. Silver utensils.
A dangerous smile spread across her face as she recalled a crucial detail about her stepson, Arthur—his deadly allergy to silver.
Even the slightest contact with it could send him into anaphylactic shock.
The wheels in Camille's mind began to turn.
An accident, she thought. How convenient would it be if Arthur were to suffer a tragic accident during his own return ball? No one would suspect her.
She had played the part of the caring queen consort for years and it would be all too easy to remove Arthur from the picture—permanently.