Ferdinand leaned on the balcony, staring out at the setting sun, a lit cigar between his fingers. The door behind him opened and his sister stepped through.
She observed him for a while before coming to rest her elbows on the railing too. Ferdinand offered her a cigar pack and she picked out a stick.
"Light me," she requested and her brother flicked open a lighter and lit the cigar for her.
"Congrats Ferdy," Eleanor said, her lips working around the cigar in her mouth. "Ayra is getting married in two days."
Ferdinand sighed and took a drag.
"My little girl," he whispered.
"To get her together with The Director himself, Ferdy, I wonder how you did it."
"We all have our ways," Ferdinand said with a chuckle.
"You have an idea of what you are doing to her, don't you?"
"Wouldn't you do the same?" Ferdinand asked.
"No, I wouldn't," Eleanor answered.
Her brother chuckled.
"That is why you would never have children, Eleanor."
"Don't need them. They're a hassle to take care of."
Ferdinand didn't reply, instead he puffed out smoke and watched it ascend to the sky.
"You would not do the same if it were Lisbeth," Eleanor accused.
Ferdinand paused. He rolled his cigar over his fingers, lost in thought.
"Lisbeth is... Different. Stronger. Quite a bit like you," he said after a while.
Eleanor scoffed.
"I'm nothing like that brat."
"No you're not," her brother chuckled. "Lisbeth is better than us in almost every way."
They stood in silence, smoking their respective cigars while the sun sank below the horizon.
"You've gone soft, Ferdy."
He smiled sadly, the wrinkles around his eyes prominent.
"Yeah. I have, haven't I?"
....
Ayra woke with a start. The dim glow of the moon seeped through the curtains, casting faint silver streaks across her room.
She lay still, her breathing shallow as her mind adjusted to the waking world. She has no idea what exactly has woken her but something felt off.
Perhaps she was simply restless since her wedding was the next morning.
She turned, her gaze drifting toward the edge of her bed and her breath hitched in her throat. She forced her body to remain still. There, sitting with eerie stillness, was Lisbeth.
Ayra let her breathing stay slow and even, feigning sleep. Through half-closed lids, she watched her sister.
Lisbeth sat stiffly, her posture uncharacteristically tense.
Her hands were clasped together in her lap, fingers twitching every so often as if she were struggling with some inner turmoil.
She raised a hand, a finger brushing through Ayra's hair but not touching her scalp.
She stopped suddenly, retracting her finger, and stared at Ayra’s sleeping form with an expression Ayra coul
Ferdinand leaned on the balcony, staring out at the setting sun, a lit cigar between his fingers. The door behind him opened and his sister stepped through.
She observed him for a while before coming to rest her elbows on the railing too. Ferdinand offered her a cigar pack and she picked out a stick.
"Light me," she requested and her brother flicked open a lighter and lit the cigar for her.
"Congrats Ferdy," Eleanor said, her lips working around the cigar in her mouth. "Ayra is getting married in two days."
Ferdinand sighed and took a drag.
"My little girl," he whispered.
"To get her together with The Director himself, Ferdy, I wonder how you did it."
"We all have our ways," Ferdinand said with a chuckle.
"You have an idea of what you are doing to her, don't you?"
"Wouldn't you do the same?" Ferdinand asked.
"No, I wouldn't," Eleanor answered.
Her brother chuckled.
"That is why you would never have children, Eleanor."
"Don't need them. They're a hassle to take care of."
Ferdinand didn't reply, instead he puffed out smoke and watched it ascend to the sky.
"You would not do the same if it were Lisbeth," Eleanor accused.
Ferdinand paused. He rolled his cigar over his fingers, lost in thought.
"Lisbeth is... Different. Stronger. Quite a bit like you," he said after a while.
Eleanor scoffed.
"I'm nothing like that brat."
"No you're not," her brother chuckled. "Lisbeth is better than us in almost every way."
They stood in silence, smoking their respective cigars while the sun sank below the horizon.
"You've gone soft, Ferdy."
He smiled sadly, the wrinkles around his eyes prominent.
"Yeah. I have, haven't I?"
....
Ayra woke with a start. The dim glow of the moon seeped through the curtains, casting faint silver streaks across her room.
She lay still, her breathing shallow as her mind adjusted to the waking world. She has no idea what exactly has woken her but something felt off.
Perhaps she was simply restless since her wedding was the next morning.
She turned, her gaze drifting toward the edge of her bed and her breath hitched in her throat. She forced her body to remain still. There, sitting with eerie stillness, was Lisbeth.
Ayra let her breathing stay slow and even, feigning sleep. Through half-closed lids, she watched her sister.
Lisbeth sat stiffly, her posture uncharacteristically tense.
Her hands were clasped together in her lap, fingers twitching every so often as if she were struggling with some inner turmoil.
She raised a hand, a finger brushing through Ayra's hair but not touching her scalp.
She stopped suddenly, retracting her finger, and stared at Ayra’s sleeping form with an expression Ayra couldn’t quite place in the low light.dn’t quite place in the low light.
Ayra had never seen her sister like this. Lisbeth, with her sharp tongue, sharper eyes, and dismissive demeanor, always seemed unshakable, a pillar of cold confidence.
But tonight, she seemed... uncertain and troubled. Strangely so.
The faint scent of her perfume, sharp and almost metallic, wafted through the air. Ayra’s muscles burned from lying so still, but she didn’t dare shift.
Finally, Lisbeth stirred. She let out a soft sigh, almost imperceptible, and leaned back in the chair.
For a moment, her shoulders slumped, the sharp edges of her usual confidence dulled by some invisible weight. It was a side of Lisbeth Ayra had never, in all her years, seen.
Lisbeth could be bitchy, arrogant, oddly thoughtful (at least when it came to their father), and downright dangerous, but she was never... This.
Lisbeth didn’t move for what felt like an eternity and questions spun in Ayra's head. What was her sister doing here, sitting silently in the dead of night?
She stood, her movements slow and deliberate, and walked to the window.
The moonlight caught her face, glinting off her pupils in a way that made her seem almost inhuman.
But Ayra knew that was false. Lisbeth used contact lenses to achieve the effect.
She had always had a flair for dramatics - so much so that it seemed to be ingrained in her every movement.
Her sister’s movements were deliberate but strange, almost aimless. She pulled a cigarette from a silver case and lit it with a flick of a lighter.
The scent of smoke curled through the air, mingling with the faint perfume that always clung to her.
She leaned against the window frame, staring out into the night as she took a slow drag.
The orange glow of the burning tip illuminated her face, and for a moment, Ayra thought she saw something like resignation flash across her features.
Then the expression vanished, replaced by the hard, calculating mask Lisbeth sometimes favored.
The smoke curled around her, drifting toward the ceiling. Ayra lay in silence, watching her sister as she leaned against the windowsill, her posture stiff.
The sharp buzz of a phone vibrating broke the stillness. Lisbeth cursed softly, pulling the device from her pocket and glancing at the screen.
She shot a look at Ayra and perhaps convinced she was asleep, answered it with a sharp tap.
“What?” Lisbeth snapped, her voice low and laced with unmistakable irritation.
Ayra tensed, straining to hear the other side of the conversation, but the voice on the line was too faint to make out.
“I don’t care about the details, you dumb shit,” Lisbeth said, her tone growing sharper.
“Just make sure everything goes as planned. If something goes wrong, it’s your head on the line.”
She paused, listening, and then let out a bitter laugh.
“No, I don’t think you understand. Of bloody course this is about the wedding - leave the deal out of it. And do you think he’ll let us walk away if this falls apart? Do you think I’ll let you?”
The venom in her voice sent a chill down Ayra’s spine. It was the Lisbeth she knew, cold and calculating, dangerous, and very, very bitter. Not someone you would like to cross.
"Of course I care! She's my bloody LITTLE SISTER you twat!"
Lisbeth's gaze snapped to her and she resisted the urge to flinch as Lisbeth’s eyes lingered on her for a moment before looking away.
“Just make sure the wedding goes smoothly,” Lisbeth continued, her tone harsh. “No mistakes, got it?”
The voice on the other end must have said something displeasing because Lisbeth suddenly barked, “Do you think I care?! You handle it, or I’ll find someone who will.”
She ended the call with an irritated tap and slipped the phone back into her pocket.
For a moment, she just stood there, staring out the window, the cigarette burning low between her fingers.
Ayra’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. What in the world was happening? She lacked context for everything that was going on.
Lisbeth remained at the window for a while longer, smoking in silence.
Her rigid stance softened ever so slightly, the sharp edges of her presence dulled by what Ayra could only describe as exhaustion.
It was strange seeing Lisbeth this way - vulnerable, almost... almost human.
But the moment was fleeting.
"Tastes like garbage no matter what dad says," Lisbeth cursed and stubbed out the cigarette on the windowsill, flicking the butt out the window.
She cast one last glance at Ayra before leaving the room, her footsteps fading into the quiet hallway beyond while a litany of swear words trailed her steps.
Ayra waited, counting to fifty in her head, before daring to open her eyes fully. Her gaze darted to the window where Lisbeth had stood.
Ayra was totally and utterly confused.
The morning sunlight filtered through the heavy drapes of Ayra’s room, bathing the space in a dull, golden glow. The first rays of dawn painted the sky in muted gold and pink, but, unsurprisingly, the beauty of the morning was lost on Ayra. She awoke with a knot in her stomach, the weight of what lay ahead pressing heavily on her chest. Today was her wedding day.She had thought it would be more... Joyful. Oh, she certainly was shivering, but not from anticipation or joy - she was nervous. So very nervous. Although she couldn’t afford to falter now, the nerves were just part of the day. See, Ayra had spent sleepless nights piecing together a plan, but all those nights had served to tell her that there was very little she could do to manage how things panned out. She was going to have to go with the flow and improvise on the fly - which she absolutely DREADED - and now, with her escape just hours away, there was no turning back.And there was also Lisbeth's visit last night plagui
The sunlight poured through the mansion's grand windows, casting a pale glow across the marble floors. The day had arrived, and the house thrummed with activity while Ayra whiled away the time in her room. Not quite the scenario she'd pictured for her wedding. The knock calling her out came sooner than she expected.“Miss Ayra, it’s time,” someone announced from the other side of the door.Ayra opened it to find a familiar face - the woman who had been working as Eleanor’s contact. The woman’s gaze flicked briefly to the hallway behind her before she stepped inside and shut the door.“Miss Ayra,” the maid whispered, her voice low but steady. “We need to act quickly. Please sit down.”Ayra obeyed, sitting on the edge of her bed as the maid knelt before her.From under her apron, she pulled out a roll of beige fabric and a small black case. She motioned for Ayra to lift the sheer silk gown she wore.Ayra hesitated but complied, her heart hammering in her chest as the maid efficiently
“It won’t take long,” she added, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions within her.“Very well,” the lead maid said after a pause. “We’ll wait just outside. Let us know when you’re ready.”The group filed out, leaving Ayra alone in the dressing room. The door clicked shut, and she let out a shaky breath.She didn’t have much time.She turned quickly to the wardrobe, her fingers trembling as she unlatched the hidden compartment. Ayra pulled out the plain blouse and trousers Eleanor had mentioned and tossed it onto the chair alongside the earpiece. The first attempt to remove the wedding dress was futile; the corset was too tight, the layers of fabric tangled and unyielding. Frustration surged through her as she yanked at the delicate stitching, tearing through the lace with sharp, deliberate movements.“Damn this dress,” she hissed under her breath, the ripping sounds oddly satisfying. She hated the dumb color scheme anyway. Icy whitish blue and gold was her preferred color
Minutes earlier...Lisbeth’s reaction was immediate as well as rather explosive. The moment she realized Ayra had slipped away, a cold, simmering rage bubbled beneath her skin. She'd known this would happen. It still didn't stop her from being annoyed when it did. The room was quiet, save for the faint murmur of guests outside the venue. Lisbeth’s sharp gaze swept over the scene, her mind racing to piece together what had happened. HOW it had happened. She came up with nothing. “You lot,” she called sharply, turning to the gaggle of servants at the door. “Tell me; who was the last person in this room before she disappeared?”The maid stammered, her face pale. “J-just the team helping her dress, ma’am. I don’t know what happened after that. She asked for some time alone, and, well, we -”“Time alone?” Lisbeth spat. “And what? None of you dimwits thought to question that? Of course she needed time alone - time to escape! What did I tell you?! Weren't my instructions clear enough?! An
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice quiet.“You’ve always been too intense when it comes to Ayra,” Ferdinand said, his tone almost fatherly. “I needed to ensure this was handled with precision, not the brute force you would have preferred.”Lisbeth could not argue with that. "So, what now?" She asked. Ferdinand chuckled. "Now, we hunt down Ayra."As if on cue, Lisbeth’s phone rang in her pocket. She retrieved it with and her brows knitted together when she saw Sarah’s name flash across the screen. She answered, putting the phone on speaker.“Sarah, what do you have?” Lisbeth asked. On the other end of the line, Sarah hesitated, her voice uncertain. “Lisbeth, Ayra called me just a minute ago. She asked after the tickets I told you she'd asked me to help her book.”“What did you say?” Lisbeth interrupted. "She called you? Now?""Yeah, I just got off the phone with her. Said she would call me again and I should get the train ticket ready for her."“The train ticket. Did y
It was impractical to search the entire city for her, Ayra knew. But if she really did disappear without a trace then it would merely be a matter of minutes before she was caught and dragged back. Hence she had set up for her father two leads - Marcy and Sarah. The train tickets from Sarah would ensure he directed manpower that way given that the chances of her taking the train was practically fifty fifty. Marcy was a done deal, and perhaps he would suspect aunt Eleanor too and waste his efforts on her. That would give her the opportunity to strike out on her own and actually have a chance at fleeing. With their minds so fixated on the decoys she had set up and trying to see if they had ignored any other, she would run for the hills and have a pretty good headstart. It was rather clever, but Ayra did not quite come up with it in her own. Her mother had to take credit for the general idea. She had taught Ayra much. At the moment, Ayra sat in the dimly lit corner of a café, a cup
Ayra was well aware she only had a small window of time before Simon realized his card was missing and blocked it. Every second counted.Her first stop was a car rental office she knew since she was a kid. Obviously. The nondescript building, squeezed between a laundromat and a pawnshop, was the kind of place where people didn’t ask too many questions. Inside, the air smelled strongly of coffee and air freshener. Uncle Jim - the man who owned the place - was severely addicted to caffeine. The clerk, a young man with messy hair and a bored attitude, barely glanced up as Ayra approached the counter. “How can I help you?” he drilled, looking like he did not actually want to help her in any way. “I need to rent a car,” Ayra said, keeping her voice calm.The clerk slid a form across the counter. “Fill this out. ID and payment when you’re done.”"No ID," she said, handing over Simon’s card.He grunted and swiped the card, handed it back, and pulled out a set of keys.“Parking lot, stall
Lucian leaned back in his chair, the weight of the negotiation pressing uncomfortably against his temples. Across him, Gregory Wendell, the eldest son of the Wendell family, sat with an - in his opinion - rather dumb smile etched into his face. The meeting was a vital one - a... rare moment of diplomacy between two families whose history for the past few years had no end of spite and betrayal.“The embargos benefits no one,” Gregory said, his tone calm and clipped. Lucian thought he was trying to appear serious. He only came across as slightly comical. “Resuming trade would strengthen both our sides.”Lucian’s fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the polished mahogany table. He kept his expression flat, and his voice sharp as he replied, “Strength isn’t gained by mere convenience. The terms must benefit me enough that I would lift it. The situation of the Wendells won’t sway me.”Truthfully, Lucian was annoyed at this. He was not meant to be here. He had a wedding waiting, damnit, a
The message came just before dinner.Leon: Had a great time chatting today. Wouldn’t mind another round—this time, somewhere quieter?Ayra sat back on the plush sofa of her sitting room, twirling the phone in her fingers. She had been expecting him to reach out. Encouraging it, even. Yet, staring at the message, she hesitated. The line between playing a game and getting caught in it was dangerously thin.But Lucian had yet to react to anything she’d done. Not the staff replacement, not the disorder she’d caused in the estate, not even her blatant attempts to provoke him. He remained distant, untouchable, as though she didn’t even exist. It burned.Maybe this would be the thing to get under his skin.She typed her response carefully.Ayra: I wouldn’t mind that. Where do you suggest?His reply came within moments.Leon: I know a private lounge near the East District. Great wine, even better company.She smiled faintly. He was charming, smooth. Just enough to make this easier.Ayra: Send
The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the city as Ayra stepped out of the car, the sleek black vehicle blending seamlessly with the polished luxury of the district. The streets here were lined with designer boutiques, private lounges, and high-end cafés—places that oozed exclusivity, where only the elite could afford to linger. It was the kind of setting she had been raised in for the later part of her life, yet now, standing before one of the finest cafés in the city, she felt strangely like an outsider.The café, Bellaria, was known for its privacy and refinement. It wasn’t a place for loud conversation or rushed meetings; here, the rich came to drink imported coffee, discuss business, and subtly flaunt their power. It was exactly the kind of place Lucian would be seen in.That was part of the reason she had come.Ayra pushed open the glass door, a small bell chiming above her head. Inside, the space was decorated in dark wood and gold, the air rich with the scent of roasted co
Nico stepped into Lucian’s office, the weight of his report pressing down on him. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the evening cityscape filtering through the large windows behind the man seated at the desk. Lucian didn’t look up immediately, his attention fixed on the documents before him, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood.“Speak,” Lucian said, his voice low, controlled.Nico took a slow breath before delivering the news. “It’s about Ayra.”Lucian’s fingers stilled. He finally looked up, his expression unreadable. “What did she do now?”“She’s replaced the staff.”Silence.Lucian leaned back in his chair, studying Nico with an eerie calm. “Come again?”Nico’s jaw tightened. “She fired the entire estate staff. Threw them out and replaced them with her own people. None of the original staff are left. Worse, they refuse to return.”Lucian’s gaze snapped up. “Refuse?”Nico hesitated, then nodded. “They’re scared, boss.”Lucian scoffed, leaning back in his cha
By the time the dust settled, the house was eerily quiet.The last of the protesting staff had been escorted off the premises, their voices still ringing in Ayra’s ears.The replacement staff stood awkwardly near the foyer, waiting for orders. But Ayra had none to give.She should have felt victorious.She had made her statement. She had taken control.But all she felt was exhaustion.The butler was the only one who hadn’t been forcibly removed. He still stood by the staircase, arms clasped behind his back. Unlike the others, he hadn’t fought. He hadn’t shouted.And that made him all the more annoying.Ayra met his gaze, a strange tension hanging between them.“You’re still here,” she observed.“I am,” he replied.“I told you to leave.”“You told them to leave,” he said with an insipid little look on his eye. “But you did not fire me.”Ayra exhaled through her nose. “Do you really think Lucian would let me? Would he be happy if I did so?”The butler smiled slightly, but it was devoid o
To be fair, Ayra hated this.Hated how cruel and bothersome she had to be.But if Lucian refused to acknowledge her, then she had to force his attention. No matter how ugly it got.....When Ayra stepped into the grand foyer, the staff had already gathered. There were more of them than she had realized—over a dozen pairs of wary eyes turned toward her as she entered.She could feel their resentment like a thick fog in the air.She took her place on the marble staircase, gripping the banister tightly before speaking. “You all had a day to leave,” she began, her voice cold. “And yet, you’re still here.”The butler took a step forward, his face unreadable. “As we have stated, madam, we serve the master of the house. Not you.”Ayra let out a quiet breath. She had expected this.“Fine,” she said smoothly. “If you won’t leave willingly, then I’ll make you.”At her cue, the front doors swung open.A group of people stepped inside, dressed in crisp serving uniforms, their expressions neutral.
Ayra sat at the breakfast table, untouched tea growing cold before her. The silence in the house had become suffocating. No matter what she did, no matter how much she tried to stir the waters, Lucian remained utterly indifferent. He ignored her tantrums, her disruptions, her passive-aggressive antics. He had locked her in this gilded cage and simply left her to rot, acting as if she didn’t exist.Fine.She set her cup down with deliberate care and rose to her feet. Without hesitation, she strode out of the dining room, her silk robe flowing behind her. The butler was walking past.“Stop,” she commanded.The butler paused, turning to her with polite detachment. “Madam?”Ayra folded her arms across her chest, lifting her chin slightly. “I want you to inform the staff that they are all fired.”The butler’s expression didn’t shift, but his silence stretched for a moment too long.“They have until the end of the day to pack their things and leave,” she continued. “I don’t want to see a si
Two days later Ayra lay sprawled on the plush velvet chaise lounge in her room, her fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest. The air in the house had grown heavier over the past two weeks. The polished floors gleamed, the scent of fresh flowers filled the halls, and every detail of the house was maintained to perfection—yet it felt like a lifeless shell. The staff worked diligently, moving about as if on eggshells around her, but no matter what Ayra did, they remained unwavering. Frustrated and angry, yes, but unwavering. Perhaps Lucian paid them more to put up with her antics. She wasn’t going to be ignored. If Lucian refused to engage, if the staff refused to react, then she would create a situation that could not be brushed aside.There came in Pedro.He was one of the few people from her mother’s past that Ayra had ever met. He was an old acquaintance, someone who she'd known since she was little. He wasn’t exactly a friend, but he had been there, lingering in the backgroun
This became a pattern for a brief while.Lunch? Too cold.Dinner? Not what she wanted anymore.Snacks? She changed her mind after they were made.She sent dishes back multiple times a day, forcing the kitchen staff to remake meals repeatedly before she would eat just enough to keep them from outright rebelling.Within days, the tension in the household thickened. The butler was visibly on edge, the chef was snapping at the assistants, and the maids were whispering amongst themselves in frustration.By the fifth day, the head butler had had enough.Ayra was lounging in the parlor, flipping through a book she had no intention of reading, when he approached. His posture was stiff, his jaw tight—yet he remained respectful.“Madam, forgive my boldness, but may I ask if something is troubling you?”Ayra looked up, feigning innocence. “Troubling me? Not at all.”The butler’s eyes twitched ever so slightly. “Then may I ask why the staff has had to remake your breakfast four times this morning?
It started with breakfast.The chef prepared the usual—a beautifully plated meal of toast, eggs, and fruit, presented with meticulous care. But as soon as the plate was placed in front of her, Ayra wrinkled her nose.“This isn’t what I wanted,” she said casually, pushing the plate away.The maid hesitated. “Madam, this is what you requested yesterday.”“Did I?” Ayra tilted her head, frowning. “I don’t remember. But I’m not in the mood for this today. Make me something else.”The staff exchanged glances, but after a slight hesitation, the maid nodded. “Of course.”Twenty minutes later, a fresh plate of food was brought to her. She picked at it, took a single bite, and sighed. “This is too salty. Can you make it again?”The chef’s patience visibly thinned, but they couldn’t refuse her. She was Lucian’s wife, after all, and despite the slight disregard they had for her, their orders had been to serve her and make her comfortable.But Ayra was just getting started. Breakfast the next day