Alexander brought her to the mansion once again, this time insisting she recover under his care. The days blurred together, filled with rest, physical therapy, and his unwavering attention.
Despite her initial reservations, Ava found herself softening toward him. He wasn't just taking care of her—he genuinely seemed to care. He brought her favorite books, remembered how she liked her tea, and stayed up late talking about everything and nothing.
But the mansion's secrets weighed on her. The locked doors, the whispers of the staff, and the nagging feeling that something wasn't right.
One evening, while wandering the halls, she found herself in Alexander's study. The door was ajar, and curiosity got the better of her.
"कर्मण्येवाधिकारस्ते मा फलेषु कदाचन।"
("Your right is to perform your duty only, never to its fruits.")
---
The boy was born in the dead of winter, under a moonless sky that seemed to mirror the void within the grand estate. The sprawling mansion loomed against the snow-covered hills, a sentinel of wealth and mystery. Within its walls, life began—not with the warmth of welcome, but with the cold weight of expectation.
Even in his infancy, the boy was an enigma. His cries echoed through the halls, silenced not by comfort but by the demands of tradition. His family, known for their influence and power, expected nothing less than perfection, even from their youngest.
A woman, delicate but resolute, cradled him close. Her whispers were soft prayers, her lullabies woven with hope. She was his sanctuary, the only light in a world otherwise shrouded in darkness.
"You are more than this," she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You'll see one day."
---
A Legacy Carved in Stone
The family's name was synonymous with power. Their wealth spanned continents, their influence reaching into corridors where decisions that shaped nations were made. But this power was not earned easily; it came with blood, sweat, and sacrifices etched deep into the walls of their legacy.
For the boy, this meant a childhood stripped of freedom. His days were filled with lessons—not in kindness or creativity, but in strategy, control, and domination. His tutors were relentless, their teachings steeped in the philosophy that strength and intelligence alone could command the world.
His mother tried to shield him when she could, slipping books of poetry and tales of heroism into his rigid schedule. She taught him that words could be as powerful as swords, that empathy was not a weakness but a force capable of moving mountains.
---
The First Test
At the age of twelve, the boy faced his first test of loyalty to the family. A business decision gone awry required immediate correction. He was brought into the room, his small frame dwarfed by the towering figures of his father's associates.
"You'll learn to watch, to listen," his father said, his voice devoid of warmth. "One day, you'll be the one making these decisions."
The boy obeyed, his wide eyes absorbing every detail. What he witnessed that day—calculated words that dismantled lives, the cold efficiency of power—etched itself into his soul.
---
Loss and Resolve
The boy's sanctuary—the woman who filled his life with warmth and meaning—began to fade. Illness claimed her strength, and soon, even her voice was no more than a fragile whisper.
Her passing left a void that the mansion's cold grandeur could not fill. The boy withdrew, retreating into himself. Yet, the world did not pause for his grief. His father's lessons became harsher, demanding he channel his pain into focus.
"Emotions are a luxury," his father declared. "One you cannot afford."
The boy hardened. He masked his sorrow behind a façade of composure, burying his pain deep where no one could reach it.
---
A Seed of Defiance
Beneath the surface of obedience, a seed of rebellion took root. The boy began to question the life laid out for him—the legacy that demanded his soul in exchange for power.
He started to explore the world beyond the estate's iron gates. These stolen moments, though fleeting, offered glimpses of freedom and humanity.
But even as he sought to escape, the family's shadow loomed. His every move was watched, his defiance noted.
---
Ava's Discovery
Ava closed the diary, her fingers trembling. The words felt alive, resonating with pain, ambition, and a yearning she couldn't place.
Was this story real? Was this boy the man she had come to know, or was it a character he had crafted, a reflection of his darkest fears and desires?
She glanced at the ornate bookshelf where the diary had been hidden, her mind racing. The Sanskrit verses that opened each chapter echoed in her thoughts, their profound wisdom juxtaposed with the brutality of the narrative.
As she turned to leave the study, the door creaked open.
"You've been here for a while," he said, his voice calm yet charged.
Ava forced a smile. "Just… admiring your collection."
He stepped closer, his gaze lingering on her. "Some stories are better left unread."