Falling for the enemy

Chapter 2–Without Apology

Chapter 2: Without Apology



The warm glow of the morning sun gently seeped through the curtains. Hazel squinted and murmured inaudibly as her eyelids lifted, slowly revealing her clear chestnut eyes. She looked around her room, her dark brown hair sprawled across the pillow, contrasting against the milk-white bedsheets.



She sat up and made her way to the bathroom. After a quick bath, Hazel stepped out, her hands moving up and down as she towel-dried her hair.



"Good morning, young lady," the three maids in the room echoed politely.



Hazel’s hands slowed as she raised her head to look at them.

“Drop the clothes and leave. I can groom myself,” she said coldly, walking to the vanity table.



The maids gently placed the clothes on the bed, set down the other items they were holding, and turned to leave.



“Oh, and…” Hazel’s voice rang out, freezing them mid-step.

“Don’t ever come to groom me again,” she continued, casting a quick but steady glance through the vanity mirror.



“Yes, young lady,” they echoed and quietly exited the room.



Hazel applied her body lotion and blow-dried her hair, then walked to the bed, scanning the outfits the maids had picked.

She settled on a milk-white maxi gown that reached her ankles, with a side slit climbing to mid-thigh. She paired it with block heels and a black statement belt.



Opening her jewelry boxes, she chose black diamond earrings. A swipe of gloss on her already full lips was all she needed to turn heads.



Hazel stepped into her closet and selected a light coffee-brown coat. She stared at her reflection in the mirror—expressionless. After a quiet moment, she turned and walked out of her room.

-----

In the dining hall, the clink of silverware and murmurs of idle conversation filled the room, but an undercurrent of tension lingered.



“Where’s Hazel?” Melvin’s voice rang out, his eyes shifting toward the doorway.



“She sent us out, sire, but I believe she will be down in a moment,” one of the maids answered, bowing slightly.



“She just came back and she’s already late for breakfast,” Beverly remarked, her voice laced with judgment.



“Of course,” Shelly chimed in, twirling a strand of her hair. “What would you expect of a child who grew up abroad—and without a mother, at that.”



A few at the table gave soft chuckles, but they died down quickly. The soft, steady clicking of heels against polished marble echoed through the hallway, growing louder.



Step by step, Hazel descended the grand staircase. Her posture was flawless, chin slightly raised, her eyes calm—yet unreadable. Each movement felt deliberate, as though the entire walk had been choreographed in her mind.



Shelly's laughter caught in her throat.



Hazel’s gaze found her cousin, lingering just a second too long, cool and unreadable. The weight of it made Shelly shrink into her seat and avert her eyes. Her fingers fidgeted near the napkin on her lap.



Hazel shifted her attention and walked forward, the hem of her gown sweeping gracefully behind her. She took the empty seat at the far end of the long dining table, without a word or apology



Her father’s gaze lingered on her. She raised her head and met it—calmly, steadily.



Melvin cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Let’s eat,” he said, reaching for the toast.



A moment passed.



“How’s the Rivera Corps doing lately, Uncle?” Perrin, the second cousin, asked casually, piercing the silence.



“It’s just as always. Smooth sailing,” Melvin replied.



“Of course it should. After all, it’s been six years since the last internal mole was fished out,” Perrin added, his tone light but pointed.



A loud clanging broke through the room as utensils struck a plate—sharp and sudden. All eyes turned toward Hazel. She continued eating, composed, as though nothing had happened.



“Mannerless,” Beverly muttered.



“Of course. How many times do I have to remind you? She grew up without a mother. No mother, no training,” Shelly said, giggling—until a sudden wheeze of cold air swept past her ear.



She froze.



Her pupils widened in horror as she turned and spotted a fruit knife embedded in the wall behind her—still vibrating from impact.



“Oh... I missed,” Hazel said coolly, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

“That was a mistake. And I don’t make the same mistake twice.”

She stood, collected her bag, and walked out of the dining hall without a backward glance.



"Mom, d-did you see that?" Shelly stammered, her body trembling.



Leon’s eyes followed Hazel until she was out of sight. His expression was complicated, unreadable.



"Melvin, your daughter is getting too wild," Beverly said as she patted Shelly gently, trying to calm her.



"Best to avoid Hazel for the time being," Melvin replied coolly, wiping his mouth before rising from the table and walking out.





---



"To Serene Sips," Hazel instructed the driver, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.



"Yes, Miss," the driver replied as the BMW surged forward.



"Grew up without a mother, huh?" Hazel murmured with her eyes still closed. "We'll see about that."



"Young Miss, we are here," the driver said as the car came to a halt in front of an elegant café.



Hazel stepped out, the breeze gently lifting the hem of her gown as she walked with graceful, steady steps into the café. She chose a seat at the far end—an ideal, quiet corner away from the chatter and clinking cups.



After ordering a cappuccino, she tapped her fingers lightly against the table, syncing to the café’s soft melody.



She sipped slowly, glancing up from time to time. Soon, a tall shadow fell across her table.



"You're late," she said without looking up, still stirring her drink.



"I'm sorry, something—"



"Sit down," Hazel cut in sharply. She hated being looked down on. She needed him at her eye level.



"Now, continue," she said once he had taken a seat.



"Something came up. I'm sorry to keep you waiting," the man—Grayson—apologized sincerely.



Hazel didn’t acknowledge the apology. Instead, she pulled a small photo from her bag and placed it on the table. It was the image of a woman bearing a striking resemblance to her.



"Investigate her death. I want every single detail—nothing left out," she said, finally meeting his eyes after a short pause.



Grayson picked up the picture, giving it an analytical look.



"And her name is?"



"Katherine Rivera," Hazel replied, standing up to leave