Zarri returned home to the Mathias mansion just as evening settled over the city.
The house stood large and elegant in one of the most expensive districts, all polished stone, tall glass windows, and quiet wealth. It was the sort of home that did not need to announce power loudly. Its silence did that well enough.
Zarri stepped inside and shut the door behind her.
Almost immediately, a voice called from the kitchen.
"Zarri, is that you?" Her mother's voice.
"Sí, Mamá," Zarri replied.
[Yes]
A moment later, Mrs. Mathias walked out of the kitchen, holding a glass of orange juice. She was calm and graceful.
"Bienvenida a casa, mi amor," she said, handing the drink to Zarri. "¿Hiciste alguna amiga hoy?"
[Welcome home, my love. Did you make any friends today?]
Zarri paused. Then she accepted the glass from her mother's hand. "A best friend, Mamá."
Mrs. Mathias raised a brow.
Now that was unexpected. Her daughter had never been the sociable type. Zarri moved through life with a strange distance from everyone around her, as though the world outside herself was amusing but rarely worth touching.
So for Zarri to say a best friend?
Interesting.
Mrs. Mathias smiled slowly. "Ah, really? Well, who is it?"
Zarri had already started toward the stairs, glass of juice in hand. "The Saints heiress."
Mrs. Mathias went still.
Kashi Saints.
For a moment, the house felt quieter than before.
Then Mrs. Mathias's expression shifted into something thoughtful.
Well, well, well.
That was definitely interesting.
She said nothing more.
Instead, she turned calmly and walked back into the kitchen.
____________________________
"You little brat! How many times do I have to tell you to leave lesser beings alone?"
Grandfather James's furious voice echoed through the Saints mansion, sharp enough to make even the servants standing outside the hall lower their heads in fear.
Kashi knelt in front of him with both hands raised obediently in the air.
Obediently, of course, only in posture.
Her face carried no remorse whatsoever.
If anything, she looked bored, tired, even.
The punishment was inconveniencing her more than her actions had inconvenienced anyone else.
"Grandfather," she said calmly, "if you keep raising your voice like that, you might get a heart attack."
James's expression hardened.
The whiskey glass in his hand flew across the room.
It missed Kashi by a narrow distance and shattered against the floor beside her, amber liquid splashing across the polished tiles.
Kashi did not flinch.
"If I ever get a heart attack," James snapped, "it will be because of you. Do you ever stop causing me problems?"
"No, Grandfather," Kashi replied absentmindedly.
James went silent.
For a moment, he simply stared at her.
What kind of hell had he raised and called a granddaughter?
He would admit he had spoiled her a little.
Fine, perhaps more than a little.
Since birth, Kashi had been his precious child. And after the tragic accident that took both her parents, James had poured everything into her, love, money, protection, power, indulgence.
But surely that did not explain this.
Surely there had to be some other reason. Who exactly had he offended for the heavens to give him a granddaughter with the mouth of a demon and the conscience of a bored cat?
"Sir," a calm voice came from behind him. "Please, calm down."
Frank stepped forward, adjusting his glasses with practised composure.
He was the head butler of the Saints household, a man who had served the family long enough to survive every storm with a straight face. In many ways, Frank ran the mansion more effectively than anyone else.
James turned sharply. "Calm down? And how do you propose I do that, Frank?"
Frank cleared his throat.
His gaze moved briefly to Kashi, the mischievous young lady of the Saints house, still kneeling with her hands raised and her face painfully unrepentant. "I believe she has learnt her lesson, sir."
Kashi gave him a faint smile.
James looked down at her.
Mia's family had contacted him earlier that day. So had the principal of the school. The story had come in pieces, but none of the pieces painted Kashi in a remotely flattering light as his granddaughter was standing at the centre of it all as usual.
"Does she look repentant to you, Frank?" James asked.
"Yes, sir," Frank replied without hesitation. He did not even blink.
James looked at Frank.
Then at Kashi.
Then back at Frank.
Finally, he sighed, long and heavy. "Do I have to transfer you out of that school?"
"No," Kashi said quickly.
That was the first sincere thing she had said all evening.
James narrowed his eyes. "Then do not bring such disgraceful news to me again."
Kashi lowered her gaze slightly.
"This will be the last time," he said sternly. "Do you understand, young lady?"
Kashi knew enough to realise witty remarks would not save her now. Corny comments would only make him angrier, and James angry was an exhausting thing to deal with.
Still, she could not resist completely. "You said I could do however I please, Grandfather."
"Yes, I did," James said. "You are my granddaughter. The world is practically your oyster. Wealth, power, influence, all of it is yours to command."
"Then... "
"At the top, Kashi!!" His voice cut through hers like a blade.
Kashi stopped.
James stepped closer, his anger no longer loud, but colder now.
"You may toy with your peers, your equals, and those foolish enough to stand above you if they dare. But not useless schoolmates who have no worth."
Kashi looked up at him.
James's mouth tightened.
"I will overlook many things from you," he said. "But this? Picking on some insignificant girl over a bracelet? How reducing."
That struck more than the shouting had.
"It will not happen again," she said, her voice lower this time.
"It better not."
James gave her one last hard look before turning and walking out of the hall.
Only after his footsteps faded did Frank move.
He helped Kashi to her feet with the careful ease of someone who had done this many times before.
Kashi dusted off her uniform as though she had not just been kneeling in disgrace moments earlier.
"You should refrain from provoking your grandfather for a while, young miss," Frank said.
"Mm. Understood." Kashi smiled sweetly, "My fucking thanks, Frank."
"Always, miss." Frank bowed and left her to herself.
Kashi watched him go, then sighed.
For as long as she could remember, the world had bent for her.
She was the only daughter of the Saints family. The heiress of a wealthy, prominent lineage, a name that made people lower their voices, straighten their backs, and choose their words carefully.
Some feared the Saints. Some admired them. Most did both.
Her parents had died when she was five.
A car crash.
A tragic accident, people had called it.
That day, Kashi had waited at school for her mother to come pick her up. Instead, James had arrived.
She remembered the rain more clearly than anything else
.
It had poured heavily on the day her parents were lowered into the ground. The sky had been dark, the air cold, and the adults around her had cried into handkerchiefs and black sleeves.
James had held her small hand tightly. "No harm will befall you, my little girl," he had promised, his voice low and hard. "Whatever you want will be yours. Wealth, power, the world, I will place it all before you."
He had looked at the graves before them, jaw clenched against grief. "People will tremble before you because you are the next Saints heiress. Because you are my granddaughter."
Kashi had only stared ahead. She did not cry.
Not when the coffins were lowered and soil covered them.
Her parents were dead, yet Kashi did not ask for them.
Did not call out.
Did not shed a single tear.
Kashi closed her bedroom door behind her and walked straight to her bed, dropping onto it with a soft bounce.
James had raised her after that.
Raised her, spoiled her, protected her, and cut off anyone who dared suggest she needed discipline more than affection.
Against the wishes of most of the extended family, he tightened the walls around her life. Security increased. Access to her became limited. The mansion became both palace and fortress.
Kashi was everything to him.
His blood.
His heir, his last precious thing.
She placed one hand over her face, covering her eyes.
She had not meant to make him worry.
Not truly.
She had only wanted to have a little fun with Mia.
That crazy bitch had gone and reported the whole thing.
Kashi Saints.
The heiress of the Saints lineage.
Even at such a young age, the world already knew her name. But did she know herself?
She kept no real friends. Spoke to no one important unless it benefited her. Associated when necessary. Smiled when useful and destroyed things when bored.
But today had been different.
The new girl had stepped in. Not with fear. Not with flattery.
Not with the desperate eagerness most people had around her.
She had simply walked into Kashi's space, and asked to be friends.
What was her name again? Ah. Zarri.
Zarri Mathias.
Daughter of the renowned Mathias fashion house, the family that practically ruled the country's fashion world. Their name was stitched into luxury, influence, and beauty.
Their designs dressed celebrities, politicians, heiresses, wives of powerful men, and women who wanted to look like they belonged beside power even when they did not.
Zarri had only just transferred.
Kashi removed her hand from her face and stared up at the ceiling.
She had better not be boring.
Kashi hated boring things.
And for some strange reason, she did not want this one to end up broken too.