The Kael mansion woke before dawn. Servants bustled quietly, ensuring every detail of the household was in order. By the time Julian descended the wide marble staircase, his suit pressed to perfection and his silver cufflinks glinting beneath the morning sun, everything gleamed with the sterile polish of discipline.
Lillian was already seated at the long dining table, though her breakfast remained largely untouched. She kept her eyes down as he entered the room, but she felt his presence immediately—the air grew taut, the room smaller.
"Your tea?" he asked the butler in his deep, composed voice.
"It's prepared, sir."
Julian sat at the head of the table, his broad shoulders cutting an imposing figure. He stirred the tea once, lifted the cup, and sipped with the elegance of a man who had been bred in power. Lillian watched from the corner of her eye, too aware of her own trembling hands wrapped around a slice of toast she hadn't bitten.
When he rose to leave, the scrape of his chair against the marble sounded louder than it should have. He straightened his jacket, took his briefcase from a waiting servant, and looked at her only briefly.
"Breakfast was satisfactory," he said in a tone so neutral it might have been mistaken for indifference. And then, without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode across the hall, his polished shoes clicking against the marble until the sound faded into silence.
The front doors closed with a heavy thud.
And suddenly, the mansion was too quiet.
---
Lillian sat for a long while, staring at the untouched dishes before her. Her mother used to say a home was not the walls, but the people inside it. Yet here she was, surrounded by chandeliers that sparkled like frozen constellations, an opulent dining hall large enough to seat fifty guests—and still she had never felt more alone.
She placed the toast back onto the porcelain plate, her chest tight with a hollowness that threatened to consume her.
Without thinking too hard, she reached for her phone. There was only one person she longed to hear from.
"Clara," she whispered as she pressed the call button.
The line connected quickly, and the bright voice of her best friend spilled through the speaker. "Lilly! Finally. I've been waiting to hear from you. How are you holding up? Don't you dare lie to me."
The corner of Lillian's lips twitched, but the weight in her heart dragged her tone down. "It's… strange here. The house is beautiful, but it feels cold. I don't know if I belong."
"Don't talk nonsense," Clara scoffed. "You belong anywhere you choose to belong. And you know what? I'm coming over. Right now."
Lillian's eyes widened. "Clara, no. You can't. This isn't—"
"Don't argue," Clara cut her off, her voice brimming with playful stubbornness. "I've been your shadow since we were ten. If you think I'm letting you sulk in a palace without me, you've forgotten who I am. Text me the address. Now."
Against her better judgment, Lillian gave in. Perhaps she needed this. Perhaps she needed Clara's familiar warmth more than she had realized.
---
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed hours later in the grand entrance hall. Clara stood at the threshold, her eyes wide as saucers as she took in the towering ceilings, gilded railings, and the glittering crystal chandelier that cascaded from above like frozen rain.
"Oh. My. God." She grabbed Lillian's hands the moment she spotted her. "Lilly! This—this is not a house. It's a kingdom. You live in a fairy tale!"
Lillian flushed, glancing at the staff lingering nearby. "Clara, lower your voice…"
But Clara was already turning in circles, her mouth open in awe. "Are you kidding me? Look at this place! You could hide an entire football team in this hallway alone. Do you even know how many rooms there are?"
Lillian's lips curved softly. "Too many. Sometimes I feel lost just walking to the library."
Clara gasped, clutching her chest. "You have a library?"
"Follow me," Lillian said, her heart easing for the first time that morning.
---
The two girls wandered through the mansion together, laughter echoing in the otherwise lifeless halls. Clara darted into the ballroom, twirling dramatically across the polished floor. "If you don't waltz here at least once, I will personally drag Julian Kael down and make him dance with you."
Lillian blushed at the thought, shaking her head. "He'd never agree."
"Pfft. He's a man. And men bend. Especially for women like you."
They entered the library next, where shelves of leather-bound volumes reached so high that ladders were attached to the rails. Clara inhaled deeply as though the scent of ink and parchment were intoxicating. "This is insane. Lilly, you're basically Cinderella—but richer. Forget the glass slipper, you've got designer heels waiting in your closet."
Lillian's cheeks warmed. "Don't exaggerate."
"I'm serious." Clara plopped into one of the velvet armchairs with exaggerated dignity. "You have wealth, security, and—let's not ignore it—a ridiculously handsome husband. He might look like he's carved from ice, but come on. Women throw themselves at men like him. And you? You're his wife. You've already won."
The words lingered in Lillian's chest. Won. The word felt foreign, like a borrowed garment that didn't quite fit. She lowered her gaze. "Clara, it doesn't feel like winning. I don't even know what he thinks of me. Half the time I feel like a stranger in his house."
Clara leaned forward, her eyes softening. "You're not a stranger, Lilly. You're his wife. And you're still you. Don't let this mansion, or him, make you forget who you are."
Something loosened in Lillian's chest then, and she laughed—lightly, for the first time in days.
---
They wandered into the gardens next. Roses bloomed in symmetrical rows, a fountain glittered under the midday sun, and marble statues stood like silent guardians. Clara spun around with outstretched arms, her hair catching the breeze. "If you don't fall in love here, Lilly, I will."
Lillian chuckled, shaking her head. For a few blissful moments, she forgot the weight of her new life. She was simply herself again—just a girl with her best friend by her side.
"You'll be okay here," Clara said gently as they sat on a stone bench, catching their breath. "You're stronger than you think. And maybe…" She wiggled her brows mischievously. "Maybe your icy CEO isn't as heartless as he pretends. Who knows? You might even surprise yourself."
Lillian lowered her gaze, her cheeks heating. She didn't answer.
---
When it was time for Clara to leave, the butler summoned her car. Clara squeezed Lillian's hands. "Call me. Whenever you feel alone. Promise?"
"I promise."
As Clara disappeared beyond the gates, Lillian turned to head back inside—only to find a middle-aged servant waiting in the doorway.
"Miss Rivers," the woman said softly, bowing with the respect owed to a mistress of the house. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but… Mr. Kael does not like visitors in his absence. It would be best if this did not happen again."
The words landed like a stone in her stomach.
Lillian's smile faltered. "I… understand."
The servant withdrew, leaving Lillian standing in the vast entrance hall once more. For a few hours, she had felt warmth again, the mansion alive with laughter. But now, as silence reclaimed the house, the walls seemed to close in tighter than before.
Would Julian find out? And if he did… what would happen then?