The line went dead quiet for a mont.
The accident.
The nightmare that had ripped Phei’s parents away and dropped him straight into a house full of people who spent the next ten years making sure he knew he didn’t belong.
"So it’s no wonder he doesn’t rember you," Victoria finished quietly.
Nastya exhaled, slow and heavy.
"No. It really isn’t."
Victoria let the silence sit between them for a beat. Then a mischievous little giggle snuck out—small, playful, the sound of a girl who’d just had a deliciously evil idea she couldn’t keep bottled up.
"But the video of him swearing that promise. is safe, right?"
"Oh, it absolutely is. Backed up on three different devices and a private cloud server, Victoria. I’m not so amateur," Nastya replied, sounding almost offended at the question.
Victoria grinned into the darkness, teeth flashing even though no one could see it.
"I can already picture his face when he sees it."
Nastya’s laugh exploded through the phone—electric, wild, and full of chaotic energy.
"Oh my God. Oh my GOD! Can you imagine it? He’s sitting there—this six-foot, purple-eyed, Legacy-breaking monster of a man—and I casually pull out my phone and hit play on a video of his three-year-old self promising to be my little man forever. His face. His FACE. He’d straight-up malfunction. Full system crash. Blue screen of death. [Rebooting... error 404: dignity not found.]"
"He’d deny it at first," Victoria added, already cracking up again.
"He’d try. And then I’d replay the exact second where he nods all shy and goes bright red and says ’okay’ in that tiny squeaky voice. He would absolutely, completely, irreversibly die on the spot. I’d have to perform CPR on his pride."
They were both laughing now—the ugly, breathless, nothing like proper Legacy heiresses and everything like two chaotic best friends who’d stumbled onto cody treasure.
"Keep that video safe, Nastya. Guard it with your life."
"With my life, V. It’s basically sacred relic status at this point."
"Good. Because when the ti cos—when we’re both ready, when Phei’s ready—that shaky little video is going to be the most dangerous weapon in all of Paradise that we can use on him."
Nastya giggled again, bright and unstoppable. "A three-year-old’s innocent promise and one blurry phone recording."
"More powerful than any Legacy na or ancient bloodline."
"Damn right it is."
The call settled into a comfortable quiet for a mont.
"Goodnight, V."
"Goodnight, Nastya. And—"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For the advice. The real stuff. It actually helped."
"Anyti, babe. That’s what wise, emotionally advanced, extrely hot future-sisters-in-law are for," Nastya replied with zero sha, her voice dripping with playful confidence.
"I’m hanging up now."
"Love you!"
"Hanging up."
"LOVE YOU!"
Click.
Victoria lay there in the dark, still smiling even as a few stubborn tears slipped free anyway.
The image of tiny, red-faced Phei nodding helplessly in that sunlit garden played on loop behind her closed eyes like the world’s cutest movie reel.
Little man.
The guilt still sat heavy in her chest—thick, choking, refusing to leave completely. But burning right beneath it now was sothing sharper. Hotter.
Resolve.
Determination.
She was going to apologize to him. Soon. Properly. No excuses, no half-asures, no hiding behind pretty words. She’d look him straight in those striking purple eyes and say every ugly, honest thing she needed to say.
And she’d an every single word.
Maybe—just maybe—he’d hear her.
Maybe he’d forgive her.
Maybe he’d look at her the way he looked at Maya, at Valentina, at the won he chose to protect with that fierce, hungry fire in his eyes.
And if he did—if he let her back in, even a little—she’d spend the rest of her life making sure he never regretted it.
She’d worship him with every breath, every touch, every curve of her body and soul until he forgot she’d ever hurt him.
The door opened without a knock.
Victoria’s heart lurched for half a second before she registered the intruder.
Delilah leaned against the doorfra like she owned the place, one ankle crossed casually over the other, eating a thick, dripping pineapple slice like it was the last piece of food on earth.
The juice ran down her fingers and glistened on her full lips in the low light, making her look obscenely sensual without even trying.
Her face split into a wicked grin that said she’d been standing there long enough to hear every single word. Every confession. Every crack in Victoria’s voice. Every hopeful little ntion of Phei. The entire "little man" story.
"Dynamic duo, huh?" Delilah drawled, popping the last of the slice into her mouth with deliberate, teasing slowness.
Victoria’s face ignited like soone had set her on fire.
She’d been heard. All of it.
The shaking voice admitting how cruel she’d been for years. The quiet ache when she talked about Phei holding her.
She snatched the nearest pillow and hurled it with lethal intent.
Delilah dodged—smooth, practiced, the reflexes of a girl who’d been dodging things thrown by her older sister since they could both crawl.
The pillow sailed past her head and thumped harmlessly against the wall. Delilah’s plate tipped dangerously; a fresh, juicy pineapple chunk slid toward the edge. She caught it mid-air with two fingers, popped it into her mouth, and kept laughing—low, delighted, completely unbothered.
"You know,"she said through a mouthful, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction while licking juice from her thumb in a way that was far too fuckable for sisters, "I’m your ticket to this little plan of yours succeeding. My cooperation is what makes it work." She pointed those sticky fingers at Victoria like a loaded gun.
"So, where’s my respect, young lady?"
Victoria stared at her—half mortified, half furious, all painfully exposed.
"You’re a bully."
Delilah shrugged, licking another drop of juice from her thumb with slow, deliberate sensuality. "Learnt from the best."
Victoria sighed—long, defeated—sat up properly on the bed, and patted the space next to her.
Delilah ca gladly. She set the plate on the nightstand with a soft clink, kicked off her slippers, and dropped onto the mattress.
But instead of sitting beside her like a normal person, she went straight for Victoria’s lap—laying her head on her sister’s thick, silky thighs and settling in like she’d been doing this since they were six and eight fighting over blanket space.
Victoria’s nightie was short—silky lavender cotton that barely skimd the tops of her thighs when she stood.
Now, sitting propped against the headboard with her legs stretched out, the hem rode up even higher.
The fabric bunched softly at her hips, leaving the full, generous curves of her thighs completely bare. Thick, smooth, softly muscled in that effortless, mouth-watering way so girls just had—plump where they pressed together, dimpling slightly at the outer edges, skin warm and golden even in winter.
When Delilah laid her cheek against them, the flesh gave just enough—yielding, pillowy, the kind of thighs that looked like they could crush a man between them and still feel like absolute heaven doing it.
Soft, warm, fuckable perfection.
Delilah sighed. Deep. Content. The sigh of soone who’d finally found her favorite pillow.
"Gods, you have the thickest thighs. So fucking hot too." She turned her face into Victoria’s leg, nuzzling shalessly—nose brushing the sensitive inner curve, full lips grazing the smooth skin in a lazy, teasing drag that sent a spark straight through Victoria.
"Can I have a taste?"
Victoria’s face flared crimson—hot enough to feel it burning in her ears.
She flicked Delilah’s forehead—hard.
"Ow! That hurt!"
"That’s what you get for being stupid."
Delilah rubbed the spot with an exaggerated pout that lasted exactly one second before the wicked grin crept back—pure, unstoppable mischief.
"Keeping yourselfpure and untouched for Phei now, are we?" she teased, voice dropping into that sing-song~ lilt she used when she knew she’d struck absolute gold.
Victoria’s blush deepened—traitorous, unstoppable—the deep red of a girl who’d spent years pretending she didn’t care, who’d built walls so high she sotis forgot they were there, only for her twin to kick the door down with one pineapple-stained, filthy sentence.
Delilah squealed—high and gleeful, pure teenage chaos mixed with sothing hotter.
"Oh my God. Oh my GOD. I never dread I’d see the day—my big sister, Victoria, blushing like a virgin. Flustered. Going full RED. This is the greatest mont of my life. I need to docunt this. Where’s my phone—"
"Quit teasing ." Victoria grabbed her sister’s reaching hand and pinned it firmly to the mattress. Her voice ca out low. Vulnerable. "Are you really going to help?"
Delilah thought about it—genuinely—eyes drifting to the ceiling, mouth still working through the last of the pineapple while she calculated exactly what her cooperation was worth, what it would cost, and what delicious things it might gain.
Then she turned her head, looked up at Victoria with sudden, startling seriousness.
The grin faded.
The mischief dimd. What was left was sothing older, quieter, heavier.
"Only if you give a copy of the three-year-old Phei video."
Victoria opened her mouth.
Closed it.
The silence stretched—thick, charged with everything they never said out loud.
Then Victoria exhaled—slow, shaky, a mix of defeat and reluctant amusent.
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