The morning in the Rivers mansion should have felt like any other, but to Lillian, it felt as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. The golden sun filtered through the tall windows of the dining room, casting long stripes of light across the polished table. The silverware gleamed, the porcelain plates were arranged neatly, and the smell of fresh bread lingered faintly in the air. Yet none of it brought comfort.
Lillian sat quietly at her end of the table, her fingers curled around the warm cup of tea she hadn't touched. Her father sat opposite, his shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world rested on him alone. His eyes were shadowed, his face pale with exhaustion. He lifted his fork but only pushed food around his plate.
Celeste, by contrast, was radiant this morning. She wore a silk gown of pale blue, her hair pinned elegantly, diamonds glittering on her ears and wrists. Every movement of hers carried an air of practiced grace. Marissa, the stepsister, sat beside her mother, staring idly at her reflection in a small jeweled mirror, running her finger along the curve of her lips as though the world had nothing more urgent to demand of her.
The clink of cutlery echoed in the silence.
Finally, Celeste broke it with her sugar-coated voice. "William," she said lightly, almost sweetly. "Don't you think it's time you spoke with your daughter? She deserves to know her role in this household, in our future. Surely keeping her in the dark any longer is unkind."
Lillian's hand froze midway to her lips. Her heart thudded painfully.
William's hand clenched around his knife. For a moment, she thought he might snap at Celeste, tell her to stop meddling. But instead, he set his utensils down with a weary clatter. He looked across the table at Lillian, his expression unreadable.
"Lillian," he said quietly. "After breakfast, come to my study. We need to talk."
The room spun for a moment. The cup rattled in her trembling hand. She swallowed hard and forced herself to nod. "Yes, Father."
Celeste's lips curved in satisfaction as she daintily sipped her tea.
---
The study was dim when Lillian entered. Heavy curtains blocked most of the sunlight, leaving the room cloaked in the glow of a single desk lamp. Books lined the shelves in neat rows, and papers were stacked untidily across the large mahogany desk. The air smelled faintly of old leather and ink.
William sat behind the desk, his elbows resting on the surface, his hands clasped together. He looked older today, the lines on his face deeper, his eyes bloodshot with lack of sleep. When he lifted his head and saw her standing there, he flinched slightly, as though her very presence wounded him.
"Close the door, Lily," he said softly.
She obeyed, though every step felt heavy.
"Please, sit."
She sat in the chair opposite him, her hands folded in her lap, her heart pounding. For a long moment, silence hung between them, thick and suffocating.
Finally, William spoke. "Lily… you are the most precious thing in my life. You are all I have left of your mother." His voice cracked at the last word. "I swore I would protect you, no matter what."
Her throat tightened. "Then why," she whispered, "do you sound like you're about to break that promise?"
His eyes widened, guilt flickering across his face. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, her voice trembling. "I already know, Father. I heard you and Celeste last night. About the debts. About… the CEO."
William's face drained of color. He pressed a hand to his forehead as though the weight of her words crushed him. "You weren't supposed to—"
"I wasn't supposed to know you're selling me off like property?" Her voice rose, sharper now. "Was I supposed to just smile one day and accept it when you told me to pack my things and walk into a stranger's house?"
"Lillian, please—" He stood, his hands trembling as he reached toward her. "It's not like that. I would never hurt you. But the debts… they're drowning us. If we lose everything, if this family collapses, what future will you have? At least this way, you'll be safe, provided for—"
Her laugh was bitter, choked with tears. "Safe? With a man I've never met, who people say is cold and dangerous? And you call that protection?"
William's voice cracked, desperate. "Do you think I haven't thought of every other way? Do you think I haven't begged, borrowed, bargained for another solution? This is the only way left. The only way to keep you from ruin."
Her tears blurred the edges of his face. She rose from her chair, her fists clenched. "If you truly wanted to protect me, you'd choose me over your debts. You'd choose me, Father. But you never do, do you? You chose Celeste. You chose your pride. And now you're choosing your reputation. I'm the only thing you won't choose."
"Lillian!" His voice broke, the sound raw with pain. He stepped forward, but she backed away, shaking her head.
"Don't," she whispered. "Don't call me like you still deserve to. If Mother were alive, she would never forgive you for this. And neither will I."
The words struck him like a blade. He staggered, his mouth opening as though to argue, to beg. But before he could speak again, Lillian turned and fled, slamming the study door behind her.
---
The halls blurred as she ran. She didn't stop until she was outside, gulping in the crisp morning air, her tears hot against her cheeks. Her feet carried her down the familiar streets almost by instinct, until the warm glow of the small café came into view.
Clara was sweeping the doorstep when she saw her. The broom clattered to the ground as she rushed forward. "Lily!"
Lillian collapsed into her arms, sobbing. "He agreed, Clara. He's giving me away. He said it's to protect me, but he's just destroying me instead."
Clara wrapped her tightly in her embrace, one hand cradling the back of her head. Her voice was fierce, protective. "That coward. That selfish man. But listen to me, Lily—he may have made his choice, but you still have yours."
Lillian trembled, burying her face against her friend's shoulder. "What choice do I have? They've already chosen for me."
Clara pulled back enough to look her in the eye. Her gaze was steady, burning with determination. "You can choose not to give up. You can choose to keep your spirit alive, no matter what they throw at you. Even if you end up in that man's house, you are still Lillian. You are still the girl your mother raised. No one can take that from you."
Her voice softened, her thumb brushing away a tear on Lillian's cheek. "And you won't be alone. You'll always have me. Always."
The words soothed some small part of Lillian's fractured heart. She clung to Clara, drawing strength from her warmth, from the certainty in her voice.
---
Back at the mansion, Celeste stood at her window, watching the empty street below. A small, satisfied smile played on her lips.
"At last," she murmured, her eyes glittering with triumph. "Everything is falling into place."
She turned from the window, her silken skirts swishing as she moved, already dreaming of the wealth and prestige that would soon be hers.