Mirror Crown
The next morning, Xavier woke up different. Not because the world had changed, but because he had.
The fear? Gone.
The anxiety? Dead.
The pressure? Still there—but it didn't matter anymore.
He stretched lazily in Christian's bed, sunlight leaking through the tall windows like gold through cracks. He rolled over, grabbed the phone, and scrolled through a dozen missed calls and texts from people whose names still meant nothing to him.
He didn't reply to a single one.
Christian wouldn't reply. At least not immediately. And neither will I.
He stepped into the shower like he owned every drop of water. Dressed without overthinking it. Let the staff knock on his door three times before he finally opened it.
"Sir, your car is waiting."
"Took it long enough," he muttered with a smirk, walking past without looking back.
Today wasn't about blending in anymore. It wasn't about performing either.
It was about owning the role.
At school, he strolled through the gates like he was bored with the world. People stared, whispered. Girls smiled. Guys either nodded with cautious respect—or glared like rivals.
He ignored them all.
When a teacher asked him a question in class, he paused dramatically, gave a dry, clipped answer, then leaned back like he was above the subject. When a group of students asked if he wanted to join their lunch table, he glanced at them and said, "Only if there's sushi."
They laughed like it was the funniest thing they'd heard all week.
Even Christian's girlfriend—Tasha, he'd finally remembered—cornered him after class.
"You've changed," she said with a flirtatious tilt to her head.
He looked her dead in the eyes, then let his gaze drop to her lips.
"Didn't know I needed your permission."
She flushed red. "I… like it."
He didn't smile. Just turned and walked away.
Back at the estate that evening, his sister found him lounging on the living room couch, legs stretched out, watching a documentary about mafia kings.
"You're really not scared anymore, huh?" she asked, folding her arms.
Xavier glanced at her, raised an eyebrow, and then reached for a drink on the table.
"Scared of what?" he said. "People who think they know me? Or a past I don't owe anything to?"
She blinked, clearly caught off guard.
"You're different."
"Yeah. Get used to it."
She didn't respond—just stared at him for a long second before walking off, heels clicking against marble.
Xavier took a slow sip of the drink.
He wasn't trying to impress anyone anymore. He wasn't trying to fit into Christian's life.
He was Christian now.
But on his terms. With his rules.
And God help anyone who tried to challenge that.
Because Xavier was done surviving.
He was here to rule.