Chapter 4: Mother Against Daughter
1441 Words
After the slap at the poolside, nothing inside the Cole mansion remained normal.
The tension became poisonous.
Every hallway felt colder.
Every dinner felt like war.
And Elvis had somehow become the center of it all.
The next morning, the atmosphere during breakfast was unbearable.
Vivian sat elegantly at the head of the table wearing a cream-colored dress, her expression calm and composed as though she had not slapped her daughter the previous night.
But Lena arrived with fury still burning in her eyes.
And Elvis immediately knew she planned to cause trouble.
“Morning,” Lena said casually before sitting beside Elvis instead of her usual seat.
Very close beside him.
Too close.
Vivian noticed instantly.
“Elena,” she said sharply.
Lena ignored her completely.
“Elvis, can you pass the coffee?”
He handed it to her quietly.
Their fingers brushed slightly.
Lena smiled deliberately.
Vivian’s jaw tightened.
“Elena.”
“What?” Lena finally looked at her mother innocently. “I’m having breakfast.”
The tension became suffocating.
Even the servants looked uncomfortable.
Elvis kept his eyes on his plate, silently regretting every decision that brought him into this mansion.
Because now he understood something dangerous:
This was no longer attraction.
This was obsession.
And obsession always destroyed people.
—
Over the following days, Lena became worse.
Or bolder.
Depending on how one saw it.
She started wearing revealing clothes around the house whenever Elvis was nearby. Tiny shorts. Thin silk tops. Dresses that hugged her body perfectly.
Every action felt intentional.
Calculated.
She laughed louder around him.
Touched him casually.
Sat on the arm of his chair during conversations.
And every single time, Vivian watched with growing fury.
“Elvis, help me with my necklace,” Lena said one afternoon while standing directly in front of him.
She turned around slowly, exposing the smooth skin of her neck.
Elvis hesitated.
“Lena…”
“Oh relax,” she teased softly. “It’s just a necklace.”
He reluctantly reached forward to fasten it.
But the moment his fingers brushed her skin, Lena leaned back slightly against his chest.
A tiny movement.
But enough.
Enough to make Vivian, standing across the room, nearly snap her wine glass in half.
“Lena,” Vivian said coldly, “stop behaving like a child.”
Lena turned around slowly.
“And stop behaving like a jealous girlfriend.”
The room instantly fell silent.
Vivian stood abruptly.
“Elvis,” she said sharply. “Come with me.”
He obeyed immediately, grateful for escape.
But the second they entered Vivian’s private office upstairs, the door slammed shut behind them.
Vivian turned toward him with dangerous calm.
“You’re enjoying this.”
Elvis frowned.
“What?”
“This attention. This game between us.”
“That’s not true.”
Vivian stepped closer slowly.
“You let her flirt with you.”
“She flirts with me because she wants to hurt you.”
“And you don’t stop her.”
Elvis sighed heavily.
“How exactly do you want me to stop her?”
Vivian stared at him silently for several seconds.
Then her expression softened slightly.
“You belong with me, Elvis.”
The words unsettled him immediately.
Belong.
There it was again.
That possessiveness.
That obsession hiding beneath elegance.
Vivian walked toward a large shopping bag near her desk.
“I bought these for you.”
Elvis blinked.
Inside were expensive designer suits, watches, shoes, and cologne.
Probably worth more than his entire apartment rent for months.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to.”
Elvis touched one of the watches carefully.
Luxury had always fascinated him.
Not because he loved wealth.
But because it represented a life he never had.
Vivian noticed the conflict in his eyes instantly.
And smiled slightly.
“I take care of people who stay loyal to me.”
The message beneath the words was impossible to miss.
—
Meanwhile, rumors had already started spreading through elite society.
Rich women whispered during charity events.
Businessmen exchanged amused gossip in private lounges.
Everyone wanted to know the truth about Vivian Cole and the mysterious younger man living inside her mansion.
And unfortunately for Elvis, wealthy people loved scandals more than honesty.
“You’re becoming famous,” Tasha said dryly one night at Velvet Room Club.
Elvis leaned against the bar tiredly.
“I’d rather not be.”
Tasha slid a drink toward him.
“You should leave that mansion.”
Elvis laughed humorlessly.
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I’m serious.” Her expression darkened. “Rich people destroy lives for entertainment.”
He stayed quiet.
Because deep down…
He knew she was right.
Tasha lowered her voice carefully.
“I asked around about the Cole family.”
Elvis frowned slightly.
“And?”
“Marcus Cole is investigating you.”
His stomach tightened instantly.
“What?”
“He hired people to look into your background.”
Elvis cursed under his breath.
That was bad.
Very bad.
Because his past was not clean.
There were old debts.
Old fights.
Old mistakes he buried long ago.
The last thing he needed was billionaire attention exposing everything.
“You need to get out before this becomes dangerous,” Tasha warned.
But Elvis already knew something terrifying:
It was too late.
—
That evening, rain poured heavily outside the mansion while thunder echoed across the dark sky.
The atmosphere inside felt tense again.
Vivian barely spoke during dinner.
Lena kept smirking at random moments just to provoke her mother.
And Elvis felt trapped in the middle of emotional warfare.
After dinner, he escaped upstairs immediately.
His room finally felt like the only safe place left.
He loosened the buttons of his black shirt before collapsing onto the bed tiredly.
His mind felt exhausted.
Everything was spiraling too fast.
The manipulation.
The obsession.
The jealousy.
And somehow, despite all the danger, he could not stop thinking about Lena.
That was the worst part.
Because unlike Vivian’s possessiveness, Lena made him feel seen.
Understood.
And that made her far more dangerous.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
Elvis frowned.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
He walked toward the door carefully before opening it slightly.
Lena pushed inside immediately.
“Elena—”
She locked the door behind her.
“Elvis,” she whispered.
His pulse quickened instantly.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
Rain echoed softly outside while silence filled the room.
Lena stepped closer slowly, her oversized shirt hanging loosely over one shoulder.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Because this is getting out of control.”
She looked up at him quietly.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Elvis opened his mouth.
But no words came out.
Because the truth terrified him.
Part of him didn’t want her to stop.
Lena moved even closer until barely inches separated them.
“I’m tired of pretending,” she whispered.
“Elena…”
“I think about you constantly.”
The vulnerability in her voice shattered something inside him.
Because for the first time, she sounded less like a spoiled rich girl and more like someone emotionally starving for affection.
Elvis lifted his hand slowly and touched her cheek gently.
Lena closed her eyes briefly at the contact.
Then she leaned into him.
And suddenly the distance between them disappeared.
Her lips crashed against his.
Soft at first.
Then desperate.
Emotional.
Months of tension exploded instantly between them.
Elvis grabbed her waist instinctively while Lena tangled her fingers into his shirt, pulling him closer.
The kiss deepened.
Dangerously.
His back hit the wall as Lena pressed against him, breathing shakily between kisses.
“Elvis…” she whispered against his lips.
He kissed her again before his hands slid carefully along her waist, pulling her tighter against him.
The heat between them became impossible to ignore.
Lena’s fingers moved into his hair while Elvis kissed the side of her neck slowly, making her breath hitch softly.
For one reckless moment, nothing else mattered.
Not Vivian.
Not the mansion.
Not the consequences waiting outside that room.
Only this.
Only each other.
Then suddenly—
The bedroom door swung open violently.
Both of them froze instantly.
Vivian stood at the doorway.
And the look in her eyes was pure devastation mixed with rage.
For several horrifying seconds, nobody moved.
Lena was still pressed against Elvis’ chest.
His hands still rested on her waist.
Vivian’s breathing became uneven as her gaze slowly traveled over them.
Then finally, she whispered shakily:
“You disgusting little traitor…”
- Writer
