The Carrington library was colder than usual. The fire burned in the hearth, but it gave no warmth. It was a room built for command, not comfort.
Raymond Carrington sat at the head of the long table, dressed in charcoal-gray. The gold pin on his collar caught the light each time he moved, sharp and deliberate. He didn't look up when his daughters entered.
Seraphina—Phyna, as only he dared call her—walked in first. The silk train of her blouse trailed behind her like a whisper. She looked amused, maybe a little bored, as she took her seat and crossed her legs.
Thea followed, quieter. No jewelry. No makeup. Just a navy dress and a worn leather notebook she held close to her chest. She sat down without a word, back straight, eyes lowered.
Raymond's voice broke the silence.
"Your mother's memorial is done. Grief, however convenient, is no longer an excuse for idleness."
Thea blinked. Phyna raised an eyebrow.
"I assume this isn't a family bonding session?" Phyna asked.
He looked at her now, his tone calm but edged. "No. This is business. And it's long overdue."
He stood and walked toward the tall windows behind him. His hands clasped behind his back.
"You bear the Carrington name," he said. "But neither of you has proven worthy of it."
He turned sharply, his gaze falling first on Thea.
"You, Theadora, have spent a decade lost in sorrow and silence. Hiding behind your mother's memory. You've done nothing with what you were given."
Thea flinched, pain flickering in her eyes.
Then his eyes shifted to Phyna. His tone changed, not softer, but laced with tired amusement. As though her recklessness entertained him.
"And you, Seraphina, treat inheritance like a hobby. You barely scraped through school. You move from parties to headlines, runways to yacht parties and cameras and call that ambition."
Phyna's smile. "Well, you raised me, didn't you?"
"Unfortunately," he said, almost smiling back.
Thea watched them both. He was harsher with Phyna in words, but his tone held something else. Approval or maybe expectation.
He returned to his chair.
"This ends now."
Both sisters straightened.
"You have six months," he continued. "Build something. Create something. Prove you're more than a last name. You must show stability, discipline, and growth. Six months of results."
Thea's brows arched. "What kind of results?"
"A sustainable career. Or a working enterprise. Just... independence. No Carrington name, no Carrington money. Only what I give you today. No favors. No shortcuts."
Phyna tilted her head. "And if we don't?"
"One of you will keep your seat at the board table," Raymond said. "The other will be dismissed."
The silence that followed was long.
Phyna broke it first. "I'll manage. Maybe I'll start a brand. A perfume line, or something fun."
Raymond's gaze hardened. "No jets. No stylists. No scandals."
Then his gaze shifted coldly to Thea. "And you, obedience is not the same as competence."
Thea's voice was quiet but steady. "I never wanted your wealth."
"And you never refused it either," he replied.
Phyna laughed softly. He didn't stop her.
"You will each receive the same seed funding. Equal amounts," Raymond continued. "Submit monthly progress reports to my office."
Thea finally spoke again. "Alright."
Phyna smirked. "Sure about that, little mouse?"
Thea met her eyes. "I've never been more sure."
Her fingers trembled slightly under the table, but her voice did not.
Raymond stood, satisfied. "Your challenge begins tomorrow."
He started toward the door, then paused. "This is not charity. There will be no second chance."
Phyna rose, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I'll call my stylist. Time to weaponize a pantsuit."
She left but Thea stayed a moment longer.
"Yes?" Raymond asked.
She hesitated. "Just one thing…"
He waited.
"Thank you."
He didn't answer. Just watched her with the quiet of a man who never stopped calculating.
She turned and walked out, her steps light, her head high. Behind her, Raymond opened a file labeled Succession Candidates, and drew a sharp underline under one name:
Seraphina Carrington.
But something in his chest shifted, an unease he couldn't name.
Thea might surprise them all.
She didn't shine the way he measured success, but she carried the same steel. The quiet kind. Afterall she is a Carrington, through and through.
*****
Jane Hayes didn't feel her feet anymore. Her heart hammered as the elevator doors slid open. Her ID badge bounced against her chest as she hurried past the security, murmuring apologies.
She was late. Again. And this time, no excuse would land.
Her morning had gone wrong from the start. Her mother's appointment ran long, the pharmacy line stalled, and Fallon refused to rest until Jane promised she'd stay a little longer. By the time Jane caught the train downtown, the city had already moved ahead without her.
She reached the executive floor and pushed open the glass door.
"Nice of you to join us," a voice said.
Jane froze. "I'm sorry, Alyssa."
Alyssa Grant, head of the executive office, didn't look up. Early thirties, beautiful, and terrifying in heels, ran the executive office like a warship. Jane had been assisting her for nearly a year, yet the woman remained a mystery. Her tone stayed flat, her words precise. "You were expected at nine."
"I had to take my mom to the hospital," Jane said, breathless. "She's..."
"No need." Alyssa cut in. "Just be here when you're expected. This isn't a college lab, it's the executive wing."
Jane nodded. "Understood, ma."
Alyssa turned back to her screen. "You missed the morning brief. Let me catch you up."
Jane slid into her chair, opened her notebook, and waited.
"The CEO travels to Switzerland next week," Alyssa said. "Major conference. A new partnership. He's choosing one assistant to go with him, someone efficient and reliable."
Jane's pen slowed. "Mr. Davis?"
"Yes. He'll review staff files by Friday."
Jane let out a short, nervous laugh. "Then I'm safe. I doubt I'm anywhere near that list."
Alyssa looked up. "Why not?"
Jane shrugged lightly. "I blend in too well. And even if he did choose me… I couldn't go. My mom needs me. A week in Switzerland isn't even an option."
Alyssa tilted her head, studying her for a moment. "He'd need someone who doesn't fold under pressure. You pay attention, Jane. That counts."
She thought to herself, "A week in Switzerland? That sounded like someone else's life. The kind she used to daydream about, before oxygen tubes and hospital bills."
Shrugging it off, she said to Alyssa. "Thanks. But life doesn't bend just because someone notices you."
"No," Alyssa said. "But sometimes opportunity doesn't knock. Sometimes it breaks the door down."
Silence filled the space again. The steady sound of typing carried through the glass walls.
Jane turned back to her work: typing minutes, sorting reports, cross-checking data. But her thoughts drifted. To her mother. To the way Fallon's hand had trembled that morning. To how her voice had softened when she said "Be careful."
She couldn't leave.
But some quiet, dangerous part of her wanted to.