THE HUSTLERS

Episode 11:The Meet

She could not let that happen. The rivalry ran deep. Every success one sister had felt like a knife to the other. Money was the weapon they both understood best. If Black Streak offered Jane more cash or a different kind of “help,” the poor girl might be tempted. Cynthia needed to act fast.

That night, she barely slept. Her mind raced with plans. Jane belonged to her business, not her sister’s. By morning, she had made her decision. She would visit Jane herself again. She would remind the girl of the kindness she had shown — the clothes, the shoes, the cash — and pull her deeper into the sugar-coated promises. The dog business needed fresh faces like Jane. The investors loved reluctant girls; it made the content sell better.

Madam Cynthia got dressed with care the next morning. She chose a beautiful cream blouse and fitted black skirt, the same elegant style that had impressed Jane before. Her hair was styled in soft waves, makeup flawless, and she sprayed on her signature perfume that smelled of flowers and warm vanilla. She looked powerful, beautiful, and trustworthy — the perfect mask for her dark intentions. She picked up her keys and headed to her shiny black SUV.

The drive to Willow Creek felt long. Cornfields passed by in a blur. Madam Cynthia kept her expression calm, but inside, anger toward her twin sister burned. “She won’t have this one,” she thought. “Jane is mine.”

When she reached the poor part of town, she parked the car far from Jane’s almost collapsing apartment building. She did not want to draw too much attention or let Jane see the expensive vehicle right away. Walking the last blocks in her heels, she carried a small elegant bag and a warm smile ready on her face. She wanted this visit to feel like genuine care, not pressure. The girl was vulnerable after the accident yesterday — bruised, tired, and alone. It was the perfect time to strike.

She knocked softly on the door of the tiny, cracked apartment. When Jane opened it, looking surprised and still sore from her bruises, Madam Cynthia’s voice was gentle and warm.

“Jane, dear. I heard you had a little accident yesterday. I wanted to check on you myself. May I come in?”

Jane hesitated but stepped aside. The room was as sad as ever — leaking roof, thin mattress, now with some new provisions on the table. Madam Cynthia entered gracefully, her perfume filling the small space. She sat down carefully and began speaking in her honey-sweet tone, sugar-coating the dog business once more.

“You look like you need rest, sweetheart. My offer still stands. The private shows are simple and safe. Think of the money — no more scraping by, no more lonely nights wishing for family. You deserve better.”

Jane listened quietly, her bruises visible on her arms. The tension in the room was building, though Jane did not notice it yet. Madam Cynthia was in the middle of her gentle persuasion when the door opened again without a knock.

Alexander walked in. The young handsome man who looked like a god carried a small bag of extra food. He stopped when he saw Madam Cynthia. The air in the tiny apartment grew thick with unspoken rivalry. Both knew exactly who the other was — Madam Cynthia from her hated twin’s world, and Alexander connected to his own hidden business plans. Their eyes met for a brief, cold moment. Neither smiled. The hatred and competition hung heavy, but Jane, still recovering and unaware of the deeper games, did not notice the sudden chill.

Oh,” Jane said softly, trying to be polite despite her pain. “Alexander, this is Madam Cynthia. She helped me the other day after my fall at the well. Madam Cynthia, this is Alexander. He… he hit me with his car yesterday but took me to the hospital and brought me food and medicine. He’s been very kind.”

Jane introduced them with simple, innocent words. She had no idea of the storm between them. Madam Cynthia stood up slowly, her beautiful face calm on the surface but her eyes sharp. Alexander nodded politely, his handsome features hiding his own calculations.

The visit could not continue comfortably. Madam Cynthia made a graceful excuse about not wanting to tire Jane. “Rest well, dear. Think about my offer. Call me anytime.” She gathered her bag and moved toward the door.

Alexander said a quick goodbye to Jane too, promising to check on her later. “Stay resting like I said. I’ll bring more provisions if you need.”

Both left Jane’s house at the same time. They stepped out into the quiet street together. Madam Cynthia looked directly at Alexander for one long second. Her expression was ice-cold, full of silent warning. She did not say a single word. Then she turned and walked away toward her parked car in the distance, her heels clicking with controlled anger.

Alexander stood there watching her go. Once she was far enough, he reached into his pocket and brought out his phone. He dialed a number and spoke in a low, confident voice when the call connected.

“She didn’t say a word. A storm is coming.