The Ross estate was always too quiet.
Even laughter felt muted inside its walls — dulled by polished marble, heavy curtains, and the faint scent of lilies that lingered no matter the season. The kind of quiet that wasn't peace, but pressure — silence that waited to be broken.
Cael sat on the edge of the long velvet sofa in the living room, his fingers clenched tightly around an envelope. The gold emblem of Virelles University caught the afternoon light that streamed through the tall windows — a perfect mark of promise. It should have been a moment of joy, a symbol of everything he had worked for.
But in this house, even dreams felt like sins.
He unfolded the letter again, tracing the words he already knew by heart.
Congratulations, Cael Ross…
His heart beat faster each time his eyes passed over the line. It was freedom, written in ink — the first real choice he had ever made for himself.
And yet, that freedom felt fragile, like glass in his hands.
"Brother?"
The voice came softly from above, melodic and deliberate. Eve Ross stood at the top of the grand staircase, her figure framed by sunlight. The gold tones of dusk painted her like a portrait — graceful, perfect, untouchable. Her dark hair fell neatly over one shoulder, not a strand out of place.
She looked like everything their parents wanted in a child.
He, on the other hand, looked like everything they tried to hide.
"Hey," Cael said, trying to smile.
Eve descended the staircase, each step precise, the sound of her heels clicking against the marble like a metronome. Her eyes caught the letter in his hands.
"What's that?" she asked, already knowing.
"My acceptance letter," he said, his voice careful. "Virelles finally confirmed."
Her brows lifted, and the polite smile she wore widened just enough to feel practiced. "So it's true. You're leaving."
"I'm moving out for college, not vanishing," Cael said, attempting to sound light. "I'll visit."
She reached the bottom of the stairs, her fingers brushing the polished banister. "You'll be gone most of the year. That's the same thing."
Cael looked down, thumb tracing the edge of the letter. "I need this, Eve. It's something I can do for myself."
"You can do things here," she said quickly. "Cynara and Aureon have great universities. Closer to home. Mother and Father would—"
He cut her off gently. "Mother and Father would control every decision I make. I just… want to live somewhere I can breathe."
Something in her expression flickered — a flash of something sharp, almost wounded — then it vanished behind her serene composure.
"You talk like this house is a cage."
"Maybe it is," Cael said quietly. "For me."
Her smile froze, but her tone stayed soft, the way she always spoke when she wanted him to feel guilty. "You shouldn't say things like that. People might think you're ungrateful."
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "You sound like Father."
"I learned from Father," she replied easily, though her voice had a brittle edge. "I learned that family comes before selfish whims."
"I'm not being selfish," he said, standing now. "I just want to study. To make a life that's mine."
Eve tilted her head slightly. "And what about my birthday?"
Cael blinked, caught off guard. "Your birthday?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Today. You didn't even remember?"
Cael winced. "I did — I just—"
"Busy planning your escape?" she asked sweetly.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's not fair, Eve. You know it's not like that."
"Then what is it like?" she pressed, stepping closer. "You're leaving all of us behind. You didn't even speak to Mother or Father first. Do you think they'll let you just walk out the door?"
"I'm not asking for permission anymore," Cael said, voice firm.
For the first time, her smile cracked — just slightly. Her lashes lowered, and when she looked back up, her gaze was cold.
"You think you're brave," she whispered, "so different. But you'll regret this, Cael. You always do."
The air between them grew heavy, thick with things unsaid. Cael wanted to apologize, to explain that he wasn't leaving her — not really. But the words stuck somewhere in his throat.
"Eve," he began softly, but she was already turning away.
Her dress shimmered faintly as she walked toward the stairs, every movement elegant, controlled — until it wasn't.
He saw her foot lift. Then the faint slip — so small, so ordinary — that the mind barely registered it until the world shattered around the sound.
"Eve!"
It happened too fast.
Her heel slid against the polished edge. Her hand reached instinctively for the banister, missed, and she fell. The sound of her body hitting the stairs once, twice — then the dull, final crack as she struck the marble floor below.
Silence.
For a heartbeat, the world refused to move. Then panic surged through Cael's chest.
He ran, his heart pounding in his ears. "Eve!"
She lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs — dark hair splayed like ink, her arm twisted unnaturally, a faint streak of blood marking the steps.
"Eve, please—" His voice broke. He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling. "Please open your eyes."
A soft sound escaped her lips — a broken breath, shallow, pained.
He reached for his phone, fumbling. "Father! Mother! Someone help!"
Footsteps thundered through the hall.
"What happened?" His father's voice — deep, commanding — filled the air as he appeared at the base of the stairs. Their mother followed close behind, her hand flying to her mouth when she saw the scene.
"Cael?" she gasped. "What did you do?"
"I didn't—she fell! She—"
His words drowned in the rising noise — servants shouting, someone calling for a car, another yelling for towels. The estate that had always been quiet was suddenly alive with chaos.
His father knelt beside Eve, lifting her head with a gentleness Cael had never seen in him before. "Call the hospital! Now!"
"Father, please, listen—" Cael started, but his father's eyes snapped up, fury blazing behind them.
"Don't touch her!" he roared.
Cael froze, breath catching in his throat. "I didn't push her," he whispered. "She slipped—"
His mother's voice trembled. "Cael… how could you?" Her tears blurred the sharp lines of her face, her disbelief cutting deeper than anger. "She's your sister!"
He shook his head desperately. "I didn't—she said goodbye—she stepped—"
"Enough!" His father's shout was final, echoing through the high-ceilinged hall. The servants moved in, dragging Cael backward as if he were dangerous, as if he were guilty.
"Please!" Cael struggled against their grip, his voice cracking. "It was an accident!"
No one listened.
Eve's eyes fluttered open for the briefest moment — unfocused, lost — then slipped closed again. Her body was lifted onto a stretcher, her skin pale against the white sheets.
His father followed, barking orders into his phone, not once looking at his son. His mother turned back at the door, her expression hollow — disappointment and grief tangled together.
And then they were gone.
Cael stood there, shaking, his breath uneven. The faint smear of blood glistened under the chandelier's light — a scar on the perfect marble.
The silence returned. He could hear his own heartbeat in it.
He looked down. The letter from Virelles University lay on the floor where he'd dropped it — its edge now darkened with a splash of crimson.
For a long time, he just stared.
All the dreams it had promised — freedom, independence, hope — now felt tainted, fragile, meaningless. The house around him seemed to close in again, walls whispering blame.
He bent down slowly, picked up the letter, and stared at the faint mark of blood soaking into the university's golden seal.
That was the moment he understood: no step taken in this house came without a price.
The front door slammed shut behind the last servant.
The sound echoed through the marble halls, sealing him inside.
The Ross estate was silent once more — but this time, it was the silence after a fall.