CHAPTER 183: DARE AND FAUX

–Logan–

After the longest graveyard shift of my life, I passed out the moment my head hit the mattress. I must’ve been mowing logs like a dying lawnmower because I woke up violently—someone was pinching my nose closed like they were trying to assassinate me with oxygen deprivation. I swatted blindly, ready to fight for my right to breathe, and the culprit let go before I could smack them.

I cracked my eyes open.

Jane. Pillows of mass destruction in hand. Face: fully deadpan, like she had already written my eulogy.

"Damn it—alright, I’m sorry," I muttered and exhaled, patting the space beside me. "Come on, lie down. If I snore again, just whack me."

"This is the loudest snore I’ve ever heard," she said flatly. "It’s like a boombox trying to collapse the whole villa."

Ah, the late afternoon warmth of affection.

She lifted the pillow and slapped it straight into my face for emphasis before stalking off. I just chuckled, clutching the hostage pillow.

"It’s already late," she continued, not even looking at me. "But Livana told me not to go to the lab tonight, so I’m staying here." That sentence landed in my head about three seconds late—probably because I had just narrowly escaped a smothering.

"Ha?"

"You can go ahead to the lab. Also—it’s six p.m., genius." Then she left and I heard the door close.

Perfect. I survived murder by pillow only to be time-shamed.

Before I could properly reboot my brain, David’s voice came bellowing through the door:

"Jaaane!"

I dragged myself upright, rubbing the faint nose funeral oxygen crisis out of my skull.

"So you’re not going to work?" David asked her. "How about we go to the bars and clubs?"

"I thought you were having fun with Keiko. Do you still need me to babysit you?"

"Well," he sighed dramatically, loud enough that I could practically see him clutching his heart, "it won’t be fun without you, of course."

I looked down at myself. Right. Underdressed was putting it kindly. I didn’t "sleep in" clothes—my clothes simply don’t exist during sleeping hours. If someone storms into my room at sunrise, that’s their problem, not mine.

Still... decency. I threw something on and slid the door open.

"I think I’m declaring a day off," I announced with a smirk. "So don’t be a party pooper—just join us."

Jane rolled her eyes in slow motion, stepped forward, and dug her hand into my shoulder like she was checking for structural weaknesses in my bones. I just smiled because intimidation only works on people who don’t know she secretly screams at cute dogs on the street.

"Okay," she said sweetly, which was suspicious. "I’ll go clubbing with you—on one condition."

I tilted my head. "Go ahead. Name your price."

"Are you sure?" she asked, arms crossing like she was about to sign my death certificate.

"Yes," I said. "Just spit it out already."

"Wait here."

She disappeared into her room. When she came back out, she threw something at me.

Not a shirt. Not a jacket.

No.

A fancy pink faux thong.

And the cherry on top—a bunny headband.

"Wear this," she said with a devil’s smile. "JUST this. No backup garments. Then go outside and dance."

...humiliation speedrun any-percent completed.

"Ohhhh," David groaned. "Yeah, she’s not going clubbing."

I laughed—stared at her—and the longer I stared, the funnier it got.

"Alright, fine, we won’t force you," I said, stepping closer and crouching down to her height. "But I have questions. You just happened to have this ready? Are you hiding secret kinks? Did you buy this—"

"Someone handed it to me near the clubs the other day," she cut in flatly. "They said it was free and told me to visit their club. And I thought— ’Wow. This would look perfect on Logan. Our resident manwhore.’"

I blinked slowly.

"You are definitely getting that kiss," I teased with a wink.

David gasped like I just announced his public execution and snatched her into a dramatic hostage embrace.

"NO WAY—your promised kiss is MINE. ONLY MINE!" he cried, shaking her limp, dead soul casing of a body.

I swear, this house is a telenovela that kept the laugh track budget.

But of course I had a plan. If Jane won’t go to the club, then I’d bring the club to her. Problem solved. And honestly, who wouldn’t want a midnight rager in a tastefully furnished villa? Especially one with free drinks and very questionable playlist choices—my specialty.

The idea popped into my head like a neon sign: bright, loud, and impossible to ignore. Jane had already left—probably to brood or to "relax" (read: rehearse murder stares in the mirror)—so I turned to David for moral support. He gave me that exact look he always gives when I suggest mildly criminal levels of fun: half horror, half excitement.

*****

–Livana–

Giving them a break will allow them enough energy to endure another full night shift. The scientists operate more efficiently at dusk; the rhythm of their minds simply works better under moonlight than daylight. Assassins, on the other hand—especially those foolish enough to come after Jane, one of my finest knights—are easier to detect in the morning. It is always the impatient ones who move first.

The reason I positioned Jane there was simple: she carries no bias. I assumed, correctly, that someone from the outer circle of the lab had been passing information—unfiltered and discreet—beyond our walls. So I entrusted Jane with the full security plan. She restructured it with my approval, and the results are immediate: they now want her dead. Amusingly, Logan was only supposed to function as backup, yet I suspect he is treating the whole ordeal as entertainment.

The tender wail of baby Zendaya echoed through the hallway. I pulled up the nanny cam at my mother’s mansion and watched as Mom Amiliee hurried into the nursery. Laura still required rest after childbirth, so the grandparents had temporarily claimed dominion over the twins. Even Grandmother Olivia was present—no surprise there.

"We are ready for the first hearing," Deanne announced as she set a thick bundle of documents onto my desk. Her eyes were half-shut. "Can I sleep now?"

"Yes," I smiled softly. "Thank you, Deanne. And perhaps go home early, yes? I’m sure Caine misses you. Also—I’ve already arranged for a masseuse to come to your place tonight."

She lifted her brows wearily in gratitude and stumbled out of the office.

Once the door closed, I picked up my fountain pen and continued marking evidence. My legal team is preparing the groundwork—Deanne leading them for now. Copies of everything have already been dispatched to our counsel, along with a secured witness hidden in a safehouse. Tyrona will eventually hunt him, but first, we address my mother’s murder.

"Liva."

Quick, rhythmic knocks tapped at my door. I slid the pen back into its holder and closed the file before pressing the button beneath my desk.

The door eased open. My husband—apron-clad, impossibly handsome—stepped in with a dining cart.

"Babe," he announced proudly, striding toward the side table, "I learned from the cooks. I made your favorite for lunch. I know you’re busy, so... here it is."

He approached me, carrying the warmth of the kitchen with him—garlic, seared fish, the faint sweetness of caramelized onion. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.

"Come on. Let’s eat."

"Of course." I let him guide me toward the small dining space. I continued to play the part of the blind wife—sightless but secure—as he helped me into my seat. A full set had already been neatly arranged: buttered salmon, boiled vegetables, rice, and a carefully plated side dish.

He sat across from me as I lowered my head to absorb the scent.

"Do you want me to feed you?" he teased.

"I think I will need another round of these," I replied.

He laughed—soft, pleased—and returned to the cart. The metal lid opened with a muted chime.

"I anticipated that. Your refills are ready."

A small smile tugged at my lips—unbidden, but warm nonetheless. The baby in my stomach seemed to flutter more whenever he was near; perhaps our second child was already as enamored with him as the first two.

"Eat," he murmured. "I’ll cook for you whenever you want—no Chef Wally required."

I chuckled as I savored every bite. Not a grain of rice remained. When I finished, Damon delivered the last portion and watched me enjoy it before tending to his own plate. Small gestures. Quiet tenderness. He knows how to find the corners of my heart I once thought unreachable.

When the meal was done, he pressed a kiss to my forehead before leaving me to my work. The door sealed automatically as he exited.

I returned to my desk, placing on my wired headset before listening to the morning reports from my Bishops and Pawn Captains. Once I finished, I rose and traced my path toward the nursery—my fingertips brushing the wall, maintaining the illusion. They still believe I cannot see.

Even with my eyes closed, I knew the direction: right turn, soft carpet underfoot, faint lavender scent—Mom Amiliee was already there, soothing our little princess.

"Liva," she whispered. "She’s done nursing from Laura, but she insists on cuddling with her. Laura still needs to eat."

"Of course," I replied.

She guided me to the sofa and gently placed Zendaya into my arms. I rocked her softly, humming under my breath. She quieted almost instantly, her tiny eyes opening to meet mine.

Three distinct colors—even now. Gray-blue, rimmed in black, with a deeper sapphire bloom toward the center. Just like Laura. A child born from twilight—soft, luminous, and ancient-eyed.

"My little one," I murmured, brushing her cheek with my thumb, "we mustn’t keep Mama from eating. She needs strength to feed you again later."

She cooed sleepily, then yawned. I felt my own baby move—as if protesting the shared attention. Damon wants to delay the gender reveal, and I find myself allowing him these little surprises.

A new voice crackled in through the report line—Jane’s.

"This is Dove, reporting to the White Queen. We found cubs in the serpent’s nest. Twelve o’clock on Onyx Night."

The code was clear.

"Cubs" — spies.

"Serpent’s nest" — the lab.

"Twelve o’clock" — north sector detention.

"Onyx Night" — midnight shipment.

Perfect execution. As expected.

Good work, Jane.

And yes—I hope she is enjoying Japan.