The Kilner estate loomed like a monument to precision—sharp hedges, glassy windows, and silence that seemed too clean. The front gates swung open with a soft creak as the family's sleek black car rolled down the pristine driveway. The driver exited, opening the back door with careful formality.
Vivianne Kilner stepped out first, removing her gloves as if peeling away the day's weight. Her school uniform was pristine despite the long hours; her blazer was perfectly pressed, and her collar remained unwrinkled.. Behind her, Susain emerged with a dramatic sigh, her tie already loosened and one braid nearly unraveling.
"I swear," Susain groaned, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "if Emily breathes near Leina one more time, I'm going to throw her out a window."
Vivianne didn't respond. Her heels clicked against the polished stone as she walked toward the front door. The late afternoon sun cast golden bars of light across the marble steps, but neither seemed to notice the warmth.
"She doesn't ever react, Vivi," Susain continued as they entered the foyer. "Just blinked at us like we were nothing. And that Malvern kid was looking at her like she was some kind of goddess."
Vivianne slipped off her coat and handed it to the maid without a word. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—calm, observant—betrayed a flicker of thought.
"She doesn't have to react," she said coolly. "That's why it works."
Susain blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
But Vivianne was already walking toward the sitting room, her movements fluid and elegant.
Inside, Adeline Kilner looked up from a dainty embroidery hoop, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, my sweet girls! Back already?"
"Mhm," Susain muttered, dropping her bag onto the velvet couch with a thud.
Adeline frowned. "Careful, love. That bag cost more than my wedding dress."
"Yeah, and it carries math tests I failed, so it deserves it."
Vivianne sat across from her mother, smoothing her skirt. "Is Father home?"
Adeline blinked. "Yes, but he's upstairs with Jonathan. Something about the Montrove merger again."
From upstairs came muffled voices—sharp, clipped, businesslike. Their father and uncle had been whispering about expansion for weeks now, but lately, the whispers had turned into plans. The Kilners had always been ambitious, but now... it was becoming personal.
Susain threw herself sideways onto the couch. "Are they still trying to take over the Carter line?"
"Among other things," Adeline said softly, tucking a loose strand of red-blonde hair behind her ear. "You know how your father is. Always aiming higher. As if the stars are his property."
Vivianne watched her mother carefully. "And you? You don't want anything higher?"
Adeline smiled gently, shaking her head. "Oh no. I already have everything I've ever wanted. I have my home, my girls, and my tea. And I don't need to be top of anything."
Susain snorted. "You sound like a princess in a bedtime story."
"I take that as a compliment," Adeline said, her smile never fading.
But the moment didn't linger long. Heavy footsteps approached from the hallway, and Benedict Kilner entered the room, followed closely by his brother, Jonathan. Both men wore tailored suits darker than shadow and eyes sharper than ice.
"Vivianne," Benedict said in his usual flat tone. "We need a word."
She stood immediately, smoothed her uniform, and followed them into the adjoining study. Susain rolled her eyes and bit into a macaron, unfazed.
The Kilner study was vast and cold, lined with business books and framed newspaper articles touting their family's rise over the decades. Vivianne stood silently as her father and uncle circled her like hawks.
"The Montrove deal has been accelerated," Benedict said. "You'll represent the family at the next dinner."
Vivianne's brow twitched. "Why me?"
"Because," Jonathan chimed in with a smirk, "Susain lacks your restraint, and we can't afford another emotional outburst."
"Hey!" came Susain's voice faintly from the other room.
Benedict continued. "You're poised. You listen. You play the long game. Just like your grandfather used to."
Vivianne said nothing. She wasn't flattered—only aware.
Jonathan leaned in slightly. "Be mindful of the Smiths."
She froze ever so slightly. "You mean Reginald?"
"No," Benedict replied. "His son. Alexander."
There it was again. The weight of that name. Her thoughts flickered back to the school courtyard—Alexander's eyes not looking at her, but always toward her. Toward Leina.
"I've seen the way you look at him," Jonathan said softly, almost amused. "Just don't forget where loyalty lies."
Vivianne didn't answer.
When she returned to the sitting room, Susain was sipping tea and flipping through a glossy magazine. "Was it about business or boys?"
"Both," Vivianne said.
Susain groaned. "Ugh, how boring."
Vivianne sat beside her, face unreadable, but her fingers curled slightly in her lap.
Outside, the estate grounds were quiet. Birds chirped lazily, and the world looked peaceful.
But in the uppermost drawer of Benedict's study, buried beneath files and contracts, was a single black envelope. Its seal was old—older than the Kilners, older than Westdentia itself. It bore a crest rarely seen anymore. One is associated not with corporations but with kings.
The Kilners were reaching for power not just in business—but in bloodlines. In legacy. And Susain and Vivianne, sweetly naïve though they appeared, were already caught in its tangle.
Adeline smiled from the parlor, watching her girls with a warmth that had no place in the world they were being pulled into.
"They're growing up so fast," she whispered to no one in particular.
And far away—in a room—a figure circled a chessboard.
Two pieces remained untouched.
One is carved like a black crown.
The other is shaped like a rearing wolf.