"Are you interested in anyone?" they repeated, more annoyed than curious. "Romantically. Physically. Whatever."
She groaned and rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn't sprain something. "Oh, don't go there. A ghost like you doesn't get to ask that. But since this twisted environment—and your stalker tendencies—will probably rat me out if I so much as glance at someone…" She paused, then shrugged. "No. I'm not interested. Yet. I plan to use a few of them, sure. And I'm not against getting physical if it helps me win. But that's strategy, not sentiment."
The Rabbit arched a brow. "Don't get pregnant in here, Chloe. Or—"
Her glare cut like a thrown blade. "Don't mistake me for my mother."
There was a brief flicker of something unreadable across their face. Then, casually cruel as ever, they snorted. "Hard not to. You're her spitting image. Except for that dark green ring in your irises. And this vicious little temperament you've got—you didn't get that from her."
Chloe's jaw tightened. Her gaze dropped.
"Your endurance?" they added, voice lowering slightly. "Your intellect? That wasn't her either. She might've been sharper than the average idiot, but you? You're a once-in-a-century type of genius, Chloe. That kind of thing doesn't get passed down by accident. It's not nurture. It's you."
She looked away, annoyed—not because they were wrong, but because they were right and smug about it. "I won't get pregnant," she muttered. "And if you don't remember, your people shoved IDUs into all of us during the assessment. So even if I wanted to—and I don't—it wouldn't happen."
She paused, her voice turning bitter. "Besides, I have this lovely suspicion that I am the reason that whole no-getting-pregnant-during-the-trials policy exists."
The Rabbit didn't respond. For once, there was no witty remark waiting, no cruel jab hidden in their teeth.
Only silence.
And for Chloe, that was louder than anything.
The Rabbit went still, their body suddenly rigid as stone. "I didn't know about—"
"No," Chloe snapped, her voice rising like a lash in the air. "You assumed she aborted, didn't you?" Her tone dripped with disgust, each syllable honed to a blade.
They flinched. A rare crack in their mask.
"Chloe—"
"I don't want to know," she cut him off, standing now, the chair scraping back with a screech that echoed through the quiet chamber. Her fists trembled at her sides, not from fear—never from fear—but from fury boiling just beneath her skin. "I'm exhausted. And your face? It only makes it worse. You need to go back to whatever gilded hole you slithered out of. Don't mistake my civility for mercy. It doesn't mean I won't slit your throat when the moment comes."
The Rabbit lifted their hands in a quiet plea, "Please, can't we just—"
"No," she said again, sharper this time, her voice a whipcrack of finality. "We can't. Whatever you're trying to salvage here? It's dead. And buried. Just like she tried to bury me. So don't insult me by pretending this is something it's not."
She turned away from him, her voice now lower, darker, exhausted but venomous, like a dying ember still capable of burning flesh. "Go back to your luxurious suite and your imported wine. Leave me to whatever level of hell this is supposed to be. You made your bed. Now choke on the silk sheets."
"I didn't—" they tried again, pained, reaching halfway across the table before she whirled back to face them.
"You didn't what?" Her eyes blazed now, green ring around her irises burning like an eclipse in reverse. "You didn't know? You didn't ask? You had Albert, that good for nothing. You already got your perfect little family. Rich French ex-wife, heir born in '94, and your legacy all set in stone. Congratulations. But me?" She jabbed her chest with two fingers. "I'm the inconvenient truth. The unplanned byproduct. The consequence."
The Rabbit's face twisted at the mention of Albert. "I won't defend Albert," they said, voice taut with bitterness. "He's—"
"He's a fucking disappointment," she barked, loud enough to make the air thrum. "I did my research. He grew up spoiled, violent, mediocre at everything he does, and indifferent. He's everything you wanted didn't want him to be."
They tried to speak again, but her voice rose to drown him out completely.
"I am no one," Chloe-Haydée declared, her voice shaking with the force of her truth. "I am just a player. Another goddamned piece on your entertainment board. And I'll remind you: in this sick, elite circus you created, I'm not even a person. I'm a number, a spectacle, a gamble for the elite to bet on. So don't stand there and pretend I matter now."
A thick silence followed, stretching painfully between them. The Rabbit exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down their face, through their silver-shot hair.
"Alright," they said finally, their voice low and worn. "Alright, Chloe-Haydée. I'll go."
They reached into their coat pocket and pulled out a slim, gold remote, placing it gently on the oak table between them like one might set down a loaded weapon. Four buttons gleamed beneath the dim light: red, blue, yellow, and green.
"If you need anything," they said, gesturing to it, "red calls the butler. Blue calls the maid. Yellow alerts the doctor. Green—" a pause, "—green calls me. Use it wisely, millionaire. I'll be watching."
"Creep," she muttered without missing a beat, folding her arms across her chest and looking anywhere but at him as he stepped toward the hidden panel.
The Rabbit paused in the threshold of the secret door, glancing back over their shoulder with an unreadable expression.
"And Chloe-Haydée?"
She didn't answer at first, but her jaw clenched. Her gaze flicked toward him, sharp and suspicious. "What?"
He smiled faintly—something between weary fondness and admiration. "Treat the key staff with respect. I shouldn't be telling you this—no contestant's ever known before—but there's an inner circle here in the castle. People of real money. They volunteer every year to oversee the Trials. And they vote."
She blinked. Her arms slowly unfolded. "Vote?"
"They're allowed to secretly give... advantages, to contestants they favor. They observe everything. And they remember kindness." He stepped back into shadow, his voice barely above a whisper now. "You have more eyes on you than you think."
Chloe's breath caught in her throat. "Why are you telling me this?"
The Rabbit's smile grew just a sliver, a glint of something old and deeply personal flickering in his eyes. "Because, despite what you said... from now on, you're not no one."
And with that, the secret panel sealed shut behind him, leaving Chloe alone in the stillness.
She stood there, staring at the place he'd vanished, heart thundering in her ears, mind a hurricane of noise and regret and rage. Her fingers brushed the remote. Her lips curled in contempt.
"Bullshit," she whispered into the silence.
But even as she said it, her hand never moved from the green button.