CRAZY OVER YOU

JIMIN'S MANSION – NIGHT

The house was dead quiet.

Too fucking perfect.

Every marble surface gleamed like it was mocking him. Every piece of furniture sat exactly where it should, screaming that nobody actually lived here. You'd never know a relationship just exploded in this place—no broken glass, no tissues, nothing.

But the air felt wrong. Heavy. Like when you know someone's watching you but can't see them. It wasn't peaceful and quiet. It was the kind that makes your skin itch.

Holland kicked the front door open—BANG. His boots echoed through the hallway like gunshots. K.D was right behind him, breathing hard, but not from running. From dreading whatever mess they were about to walk into.

They expected destruction. Crying. Something that made sense.

Instead they found Jimin.

He was sprawled on his velvet couch like he didn't have a care in the world. Just scrolling through his phone, calm as you please. Like the woman he supposedly loved hadn't just walked out forever.

That damn smirk was still there. The one that made Holland want to deck him.

"You good?" Holland's voice came out rougher than he meant.

Jimin didn't even look up. "Peachy."

"Peachy?" K.D couldn't believe it. "You're not even gonna pretend to be upset?"

Jimin finally lifted his eyes. They were cold—the kind of cold that hits you in the gut.

"Why waste time crying over something I chose?"

Holland stepped closer, heart pounding. "You broke up with her?"

"I was going to. She just got there first."

The words hit like ice water. K.D felt sick.

"You planned it?" K.D was still trying to wrap his head around it. "So everything—the past months—that was all fake?"

Jimin's face didn't change. "Distraction. Strategy. I was bored."

Holland wanted to grab him and shake him. "That's fucked up."

"Better than being stupid," Jimin shot back.

K.D studied him for a long moment. Something wasn't right. There was something underneath all that cold—maybe pain, maybe something worse. "But you loved her once, didn't you?"

The question hung there. For the first time, Jimin hesitated. Just for a second—a tiny crack in the armor.

"Loving her was the stupidest thing I ever did," Jimin said quietly.

There it was. The mask slipped just enough. Holland saw it—the hurt, the raw edges of something that got shattered.

"She made me feel small," Jimin continued, voice getting softer. "Like nothing I did was ever enough. Like I had to beg for scraps. I swore I'd never be that guy again."

K.D felt that punch to the gut. For a split second, he saw Jimin differently—not as the ice-cold bastard, but as someone who got crushed and went numb afterward.

Jimin's hands clenched into fists, knuckles white.

"I looked in the mirror and didn't know who I was anymore. That's when I knew it was over."

Nobody said anything. What could they say?

Jimin breathed out slowly, that cold mask sliding back into place.

"And now?" K.D asked.

Jimin's smile turned cruel. "Now I have become the villain. The one she always worried I'd turn into."

Holland blinked, trying to process that.

"I'm entering the Saga beauty awards. Not just entering—I'm gonna destroy the competition. Make sure she sees what she threw away every damn day."

Something about the way he said it made K.D's stomach twist.

"You're dangerous when you get like this," K.D muttered.

Jimin's eyes went ice-cold. "No. I'm dangerous when I care. Now? I feel nothing. And that makes me unstoppable."

---

EARLIER THAT MORNING — VALE MANSION, TEA ROOM

Sunlight came through the stained glass like it was mocking everything wrong with this place. The Vale mansion was too quiet. Wrong kind of quiet.

Catalina sat at the fancy table, sipping tea like she was some kind of queen. Silk robe, smug smile—the whole act. In her head she was thinking, I'll make sure Queenie leaves. I'll make her life hell.

Goerigna sat next to her, half-reading the society pages. The maids moved around like ghosts.

Catalina took another sip—

Then froze.

Her eyes went wide. Her hand started shaking.

"Catalina?" Goerigna looked up.

The cup fell. Porcelain exploded across the floor. Catalina grabbed her throat, gasping.

"Something's—wrong..."

Then she started puking blood. Dark, ugly red splattered everywhere. The sound was awful—like an animal dying.

Everyone started screaming. A maid dropped her tray. Goerigna caught Catalina as she collapsed, convulsing.

"Someone call 911. Georgina shouted

TWO HOURS LATER — HOSPITAL WAITING ROOM

The antiseptic smell couldn't hide the fear. The lights are too bright, everything is too cold. Goerigna paced like a caged animal, her robe stained with panic and her daughter's blood. Allison stood there looking lost.

A doctor finally came out. "We stabilized her. She ingested something toxic—definitely poison. If you'd brought her in a minute later, she might not have made it."

Goerigna's breath caught. Her face twisted into something ugly.

"Who would do this to my daughter?"

Then, quietly:

"I saw something."

It was Sage, the youngest maid. Pale and shaking, wringing her hands.

"Last night... I saw Queenie in the pantry. She had this little bottle and said she was making a 'special brew.' I thought it was just some herbal thing..."

Goerigna turned toward her, eyes blazing.

"Bring her to me."

LATER — QUEENIE'S ROOM

Queenie sat cross-legged on her bed, barefoot, putting her hair up in a messy bun. Had no idea hell was about to break loose.

She didn't hear the storm until it was already in the room.

The door exploded open.

"You tried to murder my daughter."

Goerigna's voice wasn't loud—it was a weapon.

Queenie froze.

Blinked. Once. Twice. "What?"

Her brain felt like molasses. She couldn't breathe.

Murder? What the hell? She looked up at Georgina, trying to piece it together like a broken puzzle.

"What did you put in the tea?"

"I swear—I have no idea what you're talking about, Auntie."

"We have a witness. And we have a victim. Where is it? The poison?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

She couldn't breathe. Heart pounding. Ears ringing.

This isn't real. This can't be happening.

"You wanted her gone."

"That's a lie!" Queenie's voice cracked.

"Search everything," Goerigna ordered.

The maids moved in like vultures. Drawers yanked open. Clothes thrown around. Pages ripped from books.

Then—

"Here it is!"

A maid pulled a small amber bottle from under Queenie's pillow.

"No... no, that's not mine!" Queenie's voice broke completely. "Someone put that there! This is crazy!"

But their faces had already changed. Judging. Disgusted. Scared.

SLAP.

Queenie's face snapped sideways, stinging from Goerigna's hand.

"You'll be lucky if I don't have you arrested right now. You filthy little snake."

"I didn't do it! I swear! I barely even talk to Catalina—"

"You hated her. Admit it."

"I'm being set up!"

Everything was falling apart. Her vision blurred. Hands shaking.

Then—

"All of you, STOP!"

Allison shoved between them like a shield. "You're acting like a damn mob!"

"She tried to kill your sister!"

"You don't know that! You just want someone to blame!"

Goerigna pointed. "That's proof enough."

"No, it's a setup."

"She's leaving. She walks out and never comes back."

"Auntie, please..." Queenie dropped to her knees, sobbing. "Please don't do this. I have nowhere to go."

"Don't touch me. Your apology means nothing."

"Mother, maybe we should look into this more?" Allison tried.

"The evidence is right there! This witch tried to kill your sister!"

"Auntie... Catalina is my sister too. Why would I hurt her?"

"Why should I believe you? I always knew you were trouble—but I never thought you'd be this heartless."

"I'm calling the cops."

"No!" Queenie's voice tore through the room. "Please, Auntie, please—"

"Mother, don't call the police. Please," Allison begged.

"Fine. Then she brings me the hospital bill by tomorrow. Or I will have her arrested."

"Auntie... I don't have any money."

"I don't care. Get out. And you leave without taking a single thing from here. Not a shirt. Not a pin."

"And Allison—you help her, and I'll have you arrested for helping a criminal."

She stormed off.

Queenie collapsed. Her lungs burned. Her mind screamed.

She looked at Allison. Her only thread left.

"I believe you," Allison whispered. Her voice shook with everything she couldn't do. "I'm sorry. I just... I can't help you right now."

"It's fine," Queenie whispered, even though it wasn't. Even though it never would be.

She stood up. One foot in front of the other. Broken.

"I'll see you later."

Allison wiped away a tear. "Take care of yourself."

Queenie nodded.

She stepped into the cold morning light.

The door slammed behind her.

She didn't look back.

Because looking back meant breaking.

And she had no pieces left to lose.

But something new flickered in her chest.

Not fear.

Not sadness.

Revenge.