Chapter 3: Possession

‎I stared at the screen, scrolling slowly through Reya’s report. Every line made the smirk on my face stretch wider.

‎Name: Ren Banks

‎Age: 24

‎Occupation: Artist (anonymously known as “Scarlet Thread”)

‎Residence: Apartment 4B, Willow Creek Complex

‎Known Associates: Best friend – Ayesha Hassan (frequent club companion) . Daughter of the commissioner and head of security.

‎Relationship Status: Currently engaged to Lila Quinn.

‎Lila Quinn.

‎I threw my head back and laughed.... a deep, maniacal sound that echoed through the empty penthouse. Oh, this was too perfect.

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‎“So my younger stepsister’s fiancé was the one writhing and moaning under me last night,” I muttered, still chuckling. “Her husband-to-be… taking every inch like he was made for it.”

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‎I had kept tabs on Lila for years. She was far from a saint — cheating, manipulation, bullying, fraud, extortion, drugs, the whole package. No wonder the boy had looked familiar. That soft, chubby body, those wide blue eyes… I had seen him in those files I had about the Quinn family and their associates, he always in the background, different from even his own family.

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‎I leaned back in my chair, still grinning. I had originally planned to skip the upcoming wedding entirely. Family drama bored me, and the way they whispered about me like I was the devil's spawn just ticked me off. But now? I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I wanted to see what my little kitten would do when pushed to the edge.

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‎Besides, I was back in the country for a reason. I owned fifty percent of the new club that had just opened as well as a few others — it was both good business and aligned with my lifestyle. The drama I had unknowingly brought along with me was turning out to be delicious.

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‎And then there was my dear father… the king of manipulators. I would definitely visit his sins upon him one day. I couldn’t wait for karma to do its work. Or for me to help it along.

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‎My thumb hovered over the screen before I tapped the contact I kept closest to my heart. The call connected after two rings, and a bright, cheerful voice filled my ear.

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‎“Hello, Cookie.”

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‎“Papa!” My six-year-old daughter squealed with delight. The sound instantly softened something in my chest.

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‎“I miss you, Papa!”

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‎“I miss you too, my angel,” I said, voice gentler than it had been all morning. “No one has made me run a thousand miles playing hide and seek, or forced me to braid a doll’s hair, or hosted those fancy tea parties with the tiny cups.”

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‎She giggled. I could practically see her swinging her legs wherever she was sitting. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of the things I willingly did for her — the big bad mafia heir playing dress-up and drinking imaginary tea. But for her, I would do anything.

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‎“Papa bear,” she said seriously, using her favorite nickname for me. “What’s on your mind? You sound… funny.”

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‎“Just work, doll. I miss you so much.”

‎“Hmmm, don't believe but I miss you times one million, bear!” she declared dramatically. “When will you come back?”

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‎“What if you come here instead, Cookie?”

‎She screamed in excitement so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear, laughing.

‎“Even better, Papa!”

‎“But you can’t come until the end of the semester, okay? I need to make some arrangements first. For you, baby. Just be good for Nanny Ara.”

‎“Okay, bear,” she said, a little disappointed but trying to be brave. “I love you.”

‎“I love you too, Cookie. Be good.”

‎

‎The call ended, and the smile lingered on my face for a moment longer before the cold mask slipped back into place.

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‎Ren Banks had no idea what storm he had stepped into.

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‎But I was going to enjoy every second of it.

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