Page 13 of The Rules

Now—

City lights stretch long shadows across the floor, fractured neon bleeding in through the window. Katherine stands before the closet, fingertips grazing silk and sequins instead of the crisp blazers and button-downs that have come to define her days.

Two versions of herself, side by side.

Neither feels like armor.

Her reflection catches her gaze in the mirror—tired, yes,

but steady.

Most people get to go home after work. She just changes battlefields.

A breath leaves her lungs, sharp and quiet. Shoulders roll back. One motion at a time. No time to linger. No time to sort any of it. No time to process.

Just move.

His voice still lingers, smooth and sharp, sinking beneath her skin.

"You made them listen, Winters. Next time, make them regret underestimating you."

The way he looked at her then—less like a tool, more like a player.

Something shifted behind his words. A change in tone, in weight. She caught it instantly.

It wasn’t praise. It was a challenge. A door opening. And he was watching to see if she’d step through.

Her pulse kicked, sharp and unwanted. Not from his attention—she’d had that before. But from what came with it.

He expects something now.

And that matters more than she wants it to.

He thought she could do it. He expected her to do it.

His challenge hung heavy in the air, electric and demanding.

Slowly, she exhales, her breath a silent battle cry as she wills herself to relax. He expected more of her now, she realized, and the thought was a double-edged sword. It thrilled her, awakening a fierce determination, but it also weighed upon her shoulders, heavy with the responsibility of not failing him.

Not failing herself.

Katherine presses her palms against the dresser, breath steadying as she grounds herself. But her thoughts keep spinning, a tight orbit of expectations and uncertainty.

Hewants me to own the room.

The words echo in her mind—not a threat, not encouragement. Just fact. A standard she was now expected to meet.

And the weight of it settles fast.

How do you become that kind of presence, she wonders, when your whole life has been about surviving? Not rising. Not commanding. Just keeping your head above water.

Tension seizes, the muscles contracting into a hard line as resolve crystallizes within her. Her fingers close around the blonde wig, resting on its stand. It feels heavier tonight, a symbol of the responsibility she now carries. A responsibility she hadn't asked for, and yet, one she couldn't afford to reject.

Lisa's face flashes in her mind—a beacon of hope and trust. Her sister's unwavering belief in her was a double-edged sword, spurring her on even as it added to the weight on her shoulders. She couldn’t fail. Lisa’s future depended on her. No room for hesitation. No room to freeze. She had to move. Take control. Become the person Sinclair already believed she was.

The first pin slides into place. Then another. With each movement, something shifts inside her—like armor being fastened, like steel replacing hesitation. By the time the last pin is secured, she is gone.

A slow, confident smirk tugs at her lips. The woman in the mirror isn’t just wearing power—she’s owning it.