**Chapter 9: The Point of No Return** The silence of the room was shattered by the venomous roar erupting from Xaviera’s phone. Mr. Evans’ voice was so loud, so thick with unbridled rage, that Caleb didn’t need to lean in to hear the vitriol being spewed. Caleb’s gaze darkened as he tapped his own device, his voice low and steady. "Do you need me to step in? I can end this now." Xaviera didn't even look up. She adjusted her sleeve, a cold, mocking smile playing on her lips. "There’s no need for you to soil your hands with such a trivial matter," she replied. She knew her father didn't believe she could find a husband in twenty-four hours, but his belief was a currency she no longer traded in. As she tucked her phone away, a mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. She looked at Caleb, her eyebrows arching provocatively. "Though, if you’re truly looking to be useful, perhaps you could help me with something… else?" Caleb caught the predatory flick of her gaze. Without a second thought, he turned on his heel. "No." "Stingy," Xaviera muttered under her breath, a playful pout forming. She was heading into the lion’s den—the hospital, where the Evans family and that pathetic excuse for a man, Moore, were waiting to tear her apart. She needed a boost, a little "sweetness" to sharpen her senses before the hunt. Hearing her soft grumble, Caleb stopped. An impulse, foreign and sudden, seized him. He turned back, his stride purposeful. Before Xaviera could react, his hand rose, and his long, powerful fingers brushed against the corner of her mouth. The sensation was instantaneous—a rush of warmth, a surge of vitality that spread from the point of contact through her entire being. Xaviera’s eyes curved into crescents, a look of pure, contented bliss washing over her face. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice like velvet. Caleb snatched his hand back, his pulse racing. "This is the last time," he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He hurried down the stairs, his mind racing. *What is wrong with me? I must be losing my mind.* *** **The Hospital.** The air in the VIP ward was thick with the scent of antiseptic and manufactured grief. Mag lay tucked under the white sheets, her face artfully pale. "Dad, Mom... please don't be mad," Mag whimpered, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. "Sister didn't mean to push me. It was my own clumsiness. Don't blame her. I just want us to be a happy family again." "Happy? How can we be happy!" Mr. Evans thundered, his face puce with fury. "Do you realize what that girl has cost us? That was a Mamet child! The first great-grandchild of the most powerful family in the city!" Rose sat by the bed, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, her voice shrill with hysteria. "My poor, sweet girl! What did we do to deserve such a tragedy? It’s all Xaviera’s fault! That ungrateful, cold-blooded viper!" "Blame me if it makes you feel better," a cool, melodic voice drifted from the doorway. "But perhaps you’re simply reaping the harvest of your own sins." Xaviera leaned against the doorframe, her posture relaxed, almost bored. She looked at Mag’s tear-stained face and offered a sharp, dangerous smile. Mag visibly flinched, her voice stuttering. "Sis... Sister, you're here. Please, ignore what Mom said. She’s just... she’s just hurting. I don't blame you, truly. Maybe the baby and I just weren't meant to be. He left us too soon..." She stroked her flat stomach, a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks. It was a masterpiece of a performance. Seeing Xaviera’s nonchalance, Rose’s grief curdled into pure hatred. "You murderer! You killed my grandson! I'll make you pay for this with your life!" Rose lunged at her, fingers clawing like talons. Xaviera didn't even flinch. With the grace of a dancer, she nudged a heavy wooden chair into Rose’s path. The older woman tripped, sprawling awkwardly across the floor. "Don't try to pin a crime on me before the body is even cold," Xaviera said, her voice dropping to a chilling sub-zero. "Whether I killed your 'grandson' or not is a matter for an investigation, not your hysterics." Mag let out a soft, choked sob, looking at Xaviera with a mix of fear and feigned forgiveness. "Sister is right... let’s not fight. Dad, Mom, can we just let it go? As long as Xaviera is happy, I can bear any pain." She wiped her eyes, her gaze shifting to the corner of the room where Moore stood. "Actually... maybe it’s for the best. Without the baby, there’s nothing standing in the way of Sister and Moore anymore. I... I wish them a happy marriage. Truly." The sheer audacity of the lie was breathtaking. Xaviera almost wanted to applaud. No wonder she had been deceived for so many years; Mag wasn't just a liar—she was an artist. Mr. Evans’ heart broke for his "selfless" younger daughter. He turned on Xaviera, his eyes burning with disgust. "Look at her! Look at the sister you tried to ruin! You are a selfish, provincial brat who cares for nothing but a title! Is the engagement that important to you? You’d destroy your own flesh and blood for a man? I’ve made my decision. The engagement to the Mamet family is now Mag's. It’s the least you can do to compensate her." Xaviera raised a single finger, wagging it slowly. "I’m afraid that won't do." "Xaviera!" Rose screamed from the floor. "Do you want to kill her? She’s lost her child, and now you want to take her happiness too? How can you be so vicious?" In the bed, Mag bit her lip, looking like a martyr being led to the stake. Xaviera let out a short, mocking laugh. She stepped closer to the bed, leaning down until she was inches from Mag’s face. "Mag, tell me... how long do you plan to keep this mask on? Does it give you a thrill to watch your parents lose their minds over a fantasy?" Mag’s eyes widened, a flicker of genuine panic crossing her features. "Sister... I... I don't know what you mean..." Xaviera straightened up, her eyes cold and piercing. "It seems you won't admit the truth until I show you the coffin. Fine. Let’s see how long your little play lasts when the lights go out."