Noor and Soraya were still a little shy around Phei’s women, and honestly, who could blame them?

One did not simply walk into a circle of legacy princesses, former trainers, divine-adjacent beauties, terrifying heiresses, and women who looked like they could bankrupt a man emotionally before breakfast, then immediately behave as if the room belonged to them.

Even courage needed a chair sometimes.

Yet shyness did not stop their eyes from drinking in the cars Phei bought for them, nor did it stop Soraya from melting into his arms each time he hugged her, or Noor from looking quietly stunned when he kissed her forehead and lips as if spoiling her was the most natural thing in the world.

Victoria and Nastya watched all of it with faces carved from expensive restraint.

Their mouths stayed composed but their eyes did not.

There was something burning deep there, something sharp and bitter at the edges.

Envy or jealousy, perhaps, though the difference between the two was so thin in moments like this that it barely deserved separate vocabulary. Envy wanted what someone else had. Jealousy feared someone else would take what one desired.

Looking at Noor and Soraya tucked so easily into Phei’s warmth, both princesses seemed to be tasting both poisons at once.

Soraya noticed.

At first, she had not meant to start anything.

She was not naturally the type to go looking for battles, not unless someone placed one in front of her with a ribbon tied around the handle. But while Phei had been with Valentina near the Perrari, Victoria had leaned close to Nastya and whispered something sharp beneath her breath:

"Easy bitch."

Soraya had heard it.

And from that moment onward, peace was taken behind the showroom, shot, buried, and politely removed from the evening’s schedule.

Each time Phei kissed her after that, Soraya looked over his shoulder and smiled at Victoria.

Not sweetly.

Victoriously.

Noor, instead of stopping her, only grinned with that quiet, delighted wickedness of a woman who had decided that if the fire was already burning, one might as well add kerosene and admire the color.

She drifted to stand at Soraya’s shoulder, arms folded, a matched set of newcomers no longer looking even slightly shy, and when Victoria’s glare swung toward them, Noor met it without blinking and let one brow rise a slow, insolent millimetre.

"Go on," the look said. "We are new here. We have nothing to lose and a great deal of free entertainment to gain."

Victoria looked away first, which she would deny later under torture.

Worse still, Maddie, Sierra, Valentina and even Cassiopeia had clearly taken Soraya’s side, despite having known Victoria and Nastya since childhood.

Their logic was simple, brutal, and sisterly in the most dangerous way:

No one insulted their sisters.

Apparently sisterhood in this group could be founded within hours as long as one was Phei’s womab.

Maddie, in particular, looked positively radiant about it, drifting past Soraya to murmur: "Welcome to the family. We are deranged and we hold grudges with both hands,"

...before patting Soraya and Noor’s shoulders and sailing onward to insult a car she did not intend to buy.

Phei sensed the burning earth long before anyone said anything aloud.

By the time he bought Noor a third car, a stunning Pamborghini Revuelto with a body that looked like liquid aggression poured into a sculpted frame, he could practically smell the hellfire Soraya had set behind him.

He only pretended not to notice, because stepping between women during a silent war required either stupidity, immortality, or a mother’s authority, and he was only qualified in one of those categories under very specific bloodline conditions.

Still, he did not like it.

He did not appreciate anyone calling his women names.

Not even if that person was his cousin.

Not even if that person was a woman he had begun to see differently, a woman he might one day make his own despite the complicated, bitter ugliness of their past.

But he also had never carried the childish illusion that his women would never form sides, rivalries, little wars and dangerous alliances among themselves.

That would have been absurd.

Put beautiful, proud, wounded, powerful women around one man and expect perfect harmony, and one might as well ask a volcano to consider indoor manners.

It had simply taken longer than he expected to begin.

And Victoria was not even the first true beginning.

Elena had started something earlier, quietly, delicately, with that cherubic little face of hers and the hidden certainty of someone arranging pieces on a board only she could fully see.

No one knew what Elena was planning, not really, but everyone could sense she was up to something.

Phei suspected the Ashford heiress would recruit when the time came, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that if Elena ever asked properly, the Goddess herself might stand on her side.

’That is the problem with soft-looking girls.’

People underestimated them until the trap closed with a smile.

So Phei did not mediate.

Not yet.

Some of the strongest alliances were forged through rivalry.

’Naruto and Sasuke had practically built a brotherhood out of competition, violence, pride, wounds and enough property damage to make village councils develop migraines.’

Perhaps his women were no different. Perhaps sisterhood, real sisterhood, sometimes needed sparks before warmth.

Or perhaps he was simply surrounded by lunatics and trying to make it sound philosophical.

’Both options have evidence.’

When Phei bought Soraya a purple Porsche, she had asked for, she claimed she only wanted it because the color reminded her of his amethyst eyes. The car itself was beautiful, sleek and polished, but Soraya had never struck him as a Porsche woman.

She said it loudly anyway, wrapping her arms around his neck and rising on her toes as he smiled down at her.

"I like it because it carries your color," she said, voice sweet enough to make several people suspicious. "Some women saw those eyes before and still treated them like trash. I prefer to treasure what fools were too blind to value."

The showroom seemed to inhale.

Victoria’s face went glacial.

For a heartbeat, she looked ready to storm forward, but Nastya caught her arm with swift elegance and leaned close.

"Not here," she whispered, voice low. "Not in front of him. And not when she wants exactly that."

Soraya smiled over Phei’s shoulder. "That’s what I thought."