Angela sat stiffly across from Michael in the lavish hotel lobby, her fingers clenched on the armrest of the velvet chair. The hum of the hotel lobby around her, polished shoes clicking against the marble floor, muted conversations, the faint clinking of glassware from the nearby bar felt like background noise to the tension radiating between them. The tension between them was thick, her stomach churning with unease. Michael's sharp suit and composed demeanor only heightened her distrust.

　　"Let's not waste time," Angela said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade, her voice firm but low enough to avoid drawing attention. "You said I need the truth. Start talking."

　　Michael leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. The faint scent of cologne drifted toward her, expensive and understated. "Your mother isn't just dangerous, Angela. She's ruthless. Everything she does is calculated, including keeping you in the dark. But what you don't realize is that you're the reason for all of it."

　　Angela's jaw tightened. "I'm sick of metaphors, Michael. Just say it. Why am I so important?"

　　Michael's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because of who you are, and what you mean to her empire. You're not just her daughter, you're her legacy. Your mother isn't just a criminal, Angela. She's a queenpin with her claws in every facet of illicit trade. Drugs, counterfeit art, weapons. Your adoption wasn't some spur-of-the-moment decision. Julie chose you because of your ties to someone she needed to control."

　　Angela had heard the words before. Edmund himself had said as much, but hearing it from Michael made it feel more ominous, like a trap closing around her. "What are you talking about? Ties to who?"

　　Michael hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Your biological father, Angela. He wasn't just some ordinary man. He was a threat to Julie's operation, a rival. By taking you in, she kept him in check. But now, he's resurfacing."

　　Angela stared at him, her heartbeat deafening in her ears. "You're lying. She told me I was adopted because she couldn't have children, that it was a way for her to have a family."

　　Michael's eyes softened, almost pitying. "She told you what she needed you to believe. Your entire life has been a carefully constructed lie."

　　Angela's stomach churned. She leaned back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "You're using me."

　　Michael's gaze hardened. "I'm trying to help you. You're being manipulated by everyone around you, and the worst part is you don't even see it. Do you really think Edmund's feelings for you are genuine?"

　　The mention of Edmund's name sent a spark of heat and guilt shooting through her. Angela forced herself to keep her expression neutral. "Don't," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

　　"Don't what?" Michael pressed, his tone sharp. "Don't point out the fact that he's your stepfather? That the man who's whispering sweet nothings in your ear is also your mother's husband?"

　　Angela's heart pounded, and her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and shame. "You don't know anything about me and Edmund."

　　"Sorry to say, but I do," Michael said, leaning closer.

　　"Look, I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm saying it because you deserve better than being a pawn in their game. Both of them."

　　Angela shot to her feet, her hands trembling. "You don't know what you're talking about."

　　Michael stood as well, his movements calm and deliberate. "I know enough. And I know this, your mother will destroy anyone who gets in her way, including you. And Edmund will destroy you too, whether he means to or not."

　　Angela's mind swirled with Michael's words, each one a jagged shard cutting deeper into her already fragile resolve. She turned on her heel, not waiting for his response, and stormed out of the lobby.

　　The air outside was cold and crisp, biting at Angela's cheeks as she walked aimlessly through the streets. Her emotions were a tangled mess, anger, betrayal, confusion, and something even darker gnawing at her edges.

　　Michael's words replayed in her mind. Could he be right? Was Edmund just using her, like a puppet dangling on strings she couldn't see?

　　Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She fumbled to retrieve it from her pocket, her heart leaping when she saw Edmund's name on the screen. For a moment, she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen.

　　She answered.

　　"Angela," Edmund's voice was low, steady, but she could hear the tension beneath it. "Where are you?"

　　"Out," she said curtly.

　　"Out where?" His voice was sharper now, his concern bleeding through.

　　"Does it matter?" she snapped. "You don't own me, Edmund."

　　There was a pause, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them. "No," he said finally. "But I care about you. And I need to know you're safe."

　　Angela felt her defenses faltering, but Michael's accusations were fresh in her mind. "Why?" she demanded. "So you can keep me in line? Like you do with her?"

　　Edmund's sharp intake of breath was audible through the line. "What's that supposed to mean?"

　　"It means I know, Edmund," she said, her voice trembling. "About you. About her. About what you've done."

　　"Angela," he began, his voice pleading, but she cut him off.

　　"I don't know who to trust anymore," she said, her voice cracking. "You, her, Michael, you're all liars. All of you."

　　"I never lied about how I feel about you," Edmund said, his voice firm but tinged with desperation. "You have to believe that."

　　Angela's breath hitched. She wanted to believe him, desperately. But doubt was a venom that had seeped too deep into her veins.

　　"I need time," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

　　"Angela…"

　　She hung up, cutting him off.

　　Angela didn't return to the hostel that night. Instead, she wandered the city, the cold air biting at her skin as she tried to untangle the web of lies and half-truths surrounding her.

　　When she finally made her way back, it was nearly dawn. She stepped into the room, her body aching with exhaustion, only to freeze when she saw Edmund sitting on the edge of her bed.

　　"Where were you?" he asked, his voice low but edged with barely concealed anger.

　　"Out," she said flatly, closing the door behind her.

　　"You could've been hurt," he said, standing. "You didn't answer my calls. Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

　　"I didn't ask you to worry about me," Angela snapped, the anger she'd been holding back finally spilling over. "You don't get to play the protective lover when you're part of the reason my life is falling apart."

　　Edmund's jaw tightened, and he took a step toward her. "I know you're upset, but don't take it out on me."

　　"Why not?" she shot back. "You lied to me, Edmund. You lied about everything. How am I supposed to believe a word you say?"

　　"I never lied about us," he said, his voice low and fierce. "What we have is real, Angela. No matter what anyone says."

　　Angela shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "You're my stepfather," she whispered. "This… this thing between us, it's wrong."

　　Edmund closed the distance between them, his hands gripping her arms. "It's complicated," he said, his voice softening. "But it's not wrong."

　　She looked up at him, her emotions warring within her. "How can you say that?"

　　"Because I love you," he said simply. "And I know you love me too."

　　Angela's resolve crumbled, and she buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. Edmund held her tightly, his hand stroking her hair as she sobbed.

　　"I know you met with Michael today."

　　Angela's head snapped up. "How did you…"

　　"I have my ways," he interrupted smoothly. "What did he tell you?"

　　Angela hesitated, her mind racing. She decided to give just enough to gauge his reaction. "He said I was adopted to control my biological father. That he's some kind of threat to mom."

　　The lines between truth and lies had never been blurrier, and she was running out of time to figure out who she could trust.

　　But one thing was clear, the game wasn't over. Not by a long shot.