It Should Have Been Like This (The Revised Version)

Chapter 112: Checkmate

Lavender pulled up to the farmhouse, her car rolling to a stop in front of the small, unassuming structure. The address had led her here—a lonely farm tucked away in an open plain, the kind of place where screams would be swallowed by the wind and a body could be disposed of without a trace. How convenient. How utterly unsightly.

She exhaled softly, slipping the key card back into the pocket of her coat. Her eyes swept over the land, taking in the neglected fields, the weathered fences barely holding together. No doubt, the original owners had been struggling—probably desperate enough to sell it off without questioning who was buying. A fleeting thought crossed her mind: purchasing this place herself, restoring it, turning it into something profitable.

She shook that thought away and strode toward the house, her shoes crunching against dry earth. There was no hesitation in her steps, no pause at the door to knock or ring the bell. Instead, she gripped the doorknob, twisted it, and stepped inside without fanfare.

For a brief moment, an image flashed in her mind—a bullet splitting through the air, lodging itself into her skull the moment she crossed the threshold. She pushed the thought aside. Even if this was a trap, she had already walked into it.

The living room was surprisingly warm and well-kept, a stark contrast to the land outside. But Lavender's attention didn't linger on the décor. Her gaze immediately locked onto the woman seated comfortably across the room, exactly who she expected to see.

Giovanna.

She sat with a smirk curling her lips, one hand delicately wrapped around the stem of a wine glass, swirling the dark liquid lazily. She had expected to see Lavender frozen in shock, maybe even reeling in fresh betrayal. She had wanted to see the exact moment her world crumbled.

But when Lavender simply stood there, calm and unimpressed, the smirk faded.

Blue eyes darkened. Giovanna straightened in her seat, her once-playful expression hardening into something sharp, dangerous.

Lavender, in contrast, merely flipped her cinnamon-brown hair over her shoulder, her lips curling into a saccharine smile. It was a smile that sent an involuntary shiver of revulsion down Giovanna's spine.

"So," Giovanna hissed, her voice laced with venom, "you figured it out."

Lavender tilted her head in mock curiosity, shrugging with effortless ease.

Giovanna's jaw clenched. "Since when?"

Lavender only smiled.

A bitter laugh escaped Giovanna's lips, void of humor. She leaned back, tapping her nails against the glass before downing the rest of her wine in one smooth motion. "And here I thought I would get to enjoy this moment a little longer," she muttered. "Now my victory tastes… dull." A slow smirk crept back onto her face. "Well, for now."

She gestured to the chair across from her. "Have a seat."

Lavender didn't hesitate. She walked fearlessly toward the lone armchair in the room, sinking into it with a grace that almost mocked the tension between them. She crossed her legs, folding her hands neatly over her knee, the picture of poise. Giovanna watched her, momentarily caught off guard by the sheer audacity of her composure.

"Tell me," Giovanna mused, tilting her head. "Are you not afraid of dying?"

Lavender met her gaze, her smile unwavering. "I know I walked into a trap…" her voice was calm, almost amused. "But my daughter is far more important than my life."

Giovanna scoffed, setting her empty glass onto the wooden coffee table with a deliberate scrape of her blood-red nails. The sound was slow, grating, like claws dragging over stone. She leaned back into her chair, lips pursing.