That night, Mia sat alone in her room.
The tall windows were open wide, letting the cool night air spill inside. The moon hung low and full, casting a silver glow across the space. The thin white curtains billowed with the breeze, their edges whispering against the stone walls like ghostly hands.
She sat atop her bed, legs folded loosely beneath her, clad in a simple, oversized white robe. The fabric slipped from one slender shoulder, pooling lazily around her frame and trailing across the tangled sheets. The loose folds of her clothing, the disarray of the bed, and the scattered moonlight gave her an almost ethereal presence, as if she were some forgotten goddess from a dream, dropped here among mortals.
Her figure, delicate yet commanding, was illuminated by the moon's embrace. She sat with perfect, effortless posture, her body relaxed yet regal. Her head tilted slightly back as she gazed up at the night sky, her eyelids half-lowered.
To an outsider, her pale, expressionless face might have seemed lifeless — those eyes, half-closed and gleaming faintly under the light, could be mistaken for dead eyes, emptied of all feeling. But it was only sleepiness that softened her features into that haunting mask.
The white sheets tangled around her, glowing faintly in the silver light, made the whole scene shimmer — a strange, fragile illusion caught between waking and dreams.
For a long, still moment, Mia remained like that, staring at the moon, wrapped in the silence and the light.
In the silence of the night, with only the soft murmurs of the curtains and the hum of the distant world, Mia let her thoughts drift, weightless and slow. It was a fragile, stolen moment of calm.
She remembered the shift in the air that night. Not just the claps, the flash of cameras, the murmured congratulations — but the tightening of smiles, the sharpening of gazes.
Mia sat poised in the center of it all — a delicate porcelain figure surrounded by a wall of iron. Five bodyguards formed a quiet perimeter around her, suited, earpieces glinting. To her immediate right stood Sebastian, hands calmly folded at his back, every inch a loyal sentinel. His sharp eyes missed nothing.
Though the crowd buzzed with polite congratulations and curious glances, a distinct ripple of energy cut through the room as three figures approached — Rick Rowland, Ken's great-uncle, and his two sons, Peter "Pit" and Paul.
They navigated the crowd like seasoned predators, smiling warmly yet calculating every step. The bodyguards shifted subtly, but Rick merely chuckled, holding his hands up as though warding off aggression.
"Ah, allow an old man a moment," Rick said smoothly, voice honeyed with false affection. "It's not every day we welcome new blood into the Rowland legacy."
Pit and Paul flanked him, both wearing indulgent, almost patronizing smiles. Their tailored suits and gleaming cufflinks spoke of old wealth and older ambitions.
Mia regarded them with her usual composed detachment. Her small hands rested neatly in her lap, and she said nothing — an eerie, deliberate silence that immediately unsettled them.
Rick, unfazed, leaned slightly forward, careful not to breach the invisible line formed by the bodyguards.
"You must be a rare child indeed, to have captivated our dear Ken's heart so quickly. Family...is such a weighty thing for him."
A casual remark — but Mia caught the undercurrent.
Ken never trusted anyone. Why you? That was basically the message.
Pit smiled thinly. "Indeed. It's almost like fate… or perhaps fortune." He said the word 'fortune' lightly, but the implication hung heavy.
Mia tilted her head slightly, a movement both childlike and chillingly deliberate. Her lips curved in a polite, impassive smile that revealed nothing. She let the silence stretch, just long enough for discomfort to prickle the air.
Paul stepped in, feigning a chuckle. "Our great-grandmother would be so delighted, wouldn't she, Father? After all, she always said strength was found in bloodlines."
His smile sharpened almost imperceptibly.
Was this old thing trying to threaten her?... Mia thought
Rick gave a mock-thoughtful sigh, hand resting theatrically on his cane. "Ah yes... strong blood, respectable heritage... Such important things for a family leader. Wouldn't you agree, my dear?"
He gazed at Mia as if inviting her to confess some flaw.
Mia's dark eyes did not waver. She could read it all — the insinuations, the traps laid out like a fine chessboard. They sought to destabilize her, to draw a defensive reaction, to label her as emotional, unworthy, an outsider.
But Mia was not a child born to crumble under pressure. She was steel forged in ice.
She spoke at last, her voice soft but crisp, slicing through the layered pleasantries like a razor through silk.
"Family is not defined solely by blood."
She allowed a faint pause, as if to give them a moment to digest.
"It is defined by loyalty. By actions. Those who merely wear a family name... often tarnish it more than any stranger could." She turned to Sebastian, then sweetly said, completely destroying her character..." I did it, Sebastian... just like you said, people will try to make a five-year-old feel bad for not sharing blood or something, I told them exactly how you taught me in etiquette class, aren't I awesome?... i can't believe they didn't know something so simple, but don't worry, like you taught me, learning something new is good, right?"
Sebastian was speechless
Reporters turned, some scribbled in their notebooks
That was bad.
For the first time, the elder Rick's smile faltered. Pit stiffened, and Paul's mouth pressed into a hard line.
Their plan had failed, they were humiliated in public for the world to see by this naive little girl, and they couldn't defend themselves or even retaliate.
They had tried to provoke her into overstepping, showing her 'unworthiness.'
Instead, Mia had turned the weapon back on them, painting them as the disgrace.
Rick recovered first, offering a slow, mocking clap. "Well said, my dear. So young, and yet... so perceptive. Why, one might think you had lived among wolves all your life."
Mia's polite smile never shifted. Inside, she noted every flicker of resentment, every glint of malice behind their eyes.
Wolves? she thought silently. They wish I were prey. But I am the colder predator.
"What do you mean? I am just a five-year-old who stated basic etiquette."
Sebastian still could believe it, who was she, and what happened to Mia
Rick leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur just loud enough for her, Sebastian, and the nearest guards to hear.
"You are right, I will be more careful next time. Our dear matriarch... would have enjoyed such spirit. For a time."
A final subtle warning.
Mia simply inclined her head in acknowledgment, her composure so unnervingly perfect it robbed their words of impact.
Then, in a cheery voice, she said," I accept your apology, great uncle." Then, in a calm, controlled tone, she said," After alI believe no one makes mistakes twice."
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Ken — standing some distance away, conversing casually with Nora, but unmistakably aware of everything. His gaze briefly flicked toward her, assessing — and silently proud.
Rick, Pit, and Paul realized they were gaining nothing tonight. Rick straightened with a forced chuckle.
"Well, we mustn't monopolize your time, little lady. After all... the evening is young, and you have so many admirers."
With a final bow dripping with condescension, the three melted back into the crowd.
THAT BITCH!!!, the all thought.
Sebastian leaned subtly toward Mia and muttered, only loud enough for her to hear, "You handled them perfectly, Miss."
Mia did not respond. She didn't need to. She had won this round.
Across the room, Ken and Nora's conversation deepened, shadowed by history and unspoken tensions. But that, too, would wait for another time.
Meanwhile, somewhere far away, Samantha sat beside a small couch where Ari, watched the news.
The screen showed Mia standing elegantly, Ken's formal hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they posed for cameras.
head of the first supporting house Ken Rowland Officially Adopts Daughter
The boy's hand trembled.
Tears welled up in Ari's eyes, unstoppable, spilling over as he pressed a hand over his mouth to muffle the broken sob that escaped.
"See, I told you she was strong..." Ari said proudly.