Lately, there was an unusual undercurrent in the Hill mansion. The masters seemed to be in good spirits as if something was brewing beneath the surface.
One night, Liliana woke up feeling thirsty. She reached for the water jug on her bedside table, only to find it empty.
She sighed softly and slipped out of bed, the hem of her nightgown brushing against the cold floor as she made her way down the dimly lit hallway. The mansion at this hour was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of trees outside.
As she passed by one of the study rooms, faint voices drifted through the door, left carelessly ajar.
Her steps slowed, and the tone caught her attention.
A silver-white light spilled into the dark corridor through the gap. She hesitated before drawing closer.
"Enough already, stop making trouble this late," Albert's voice was indifferent, carrying no hint of patience.
Seated behind the grand desk, his fingers idly flipping through a document while his other hand rested against the armrest. The dim glow of the desk lamp cast sharp shadows over his sharp features, reflecting off the polished wood.
Though he was the second son of the first house, his standing in the Hill family ranked him as the third grandson–preceded by his elder brother, Hillary Hill, and his cousin, Theodore Hill. Yet among them, Albert was their grandfather's favorite. Detached, decisive, and unbothered.
Liliana's fingers curled slightly against the doorframe.
"Making trouble?" Seraphina's tone was sharp, laced with frustration. "Do you actually want me to marry that trust fund baby?"
"You can bring that up with Father," Albert replied flatly, the weight of the matter sliding right past him.
A scoff. "Right. And what? You think he'll actually listen?" Seraphina's voice lowered, but the frustration burned hotter. "You don't understand. I don't want to be married off to some faraway city, Do you have any idea how people talk about him?"
"A joke. A walking scandal. They say he's no different from–"
"Seraphina," their mother's voice cut in, smooth yet firm. The soft clink of porcelain met the air as their mother, the First Madam, placed her teacup down.
Liliana could picture the First Madam perfectly–composed, smiling faintly, playing the mediator between her children.
"My dear, aren't you afraid of others joking when you speak like this?"
Seraphina let out a sharp breath, sinking into the sofa, clearly displeased.
The First Madam continued, her tone soothing. "Your brother is not the one making the decisions. Let me speak to your father about this. Don't worry."
A brief silence stretched before Albert spoke again, his voice still void of emotion. "If you're done, I have work to finish."
"You–are you even my brother?" Seraphina snapped, her temper flaring again.
"Enough," their mother's voice came in time to restrain her, rising to her feet. "Your brother is busy. Let's go."
Liliana caught the shift in their footsteps and quietly stepped back, pressing herself into the shadows beside a tall pillar. The dim hallway concealed her presence, and when their figures passed, she remained unnoticed.
Only after the corridor fell silent again did she move.
Her gaze lingered on the study door for a moment, then she turned away, her expression was unreadable.
Liliana refilled her water jug and returned to her room. The water fills up the glass as she pours in, each motion stirring thoughts of fate–the inescapable legacy of the Hill Family. Surely, her time will come...she mused silently.
–– –– ––
The afternoon light filtered through the dining hall, casting long shadows across the polished table.
Liliana sat quietly after her meal. Around her, the conversation flowed as usual, voices mingling with a polite discussion about business, connection, and prospects.
As her grandfather prepared to leave, she set down the napkin and stood up.
"Grandfather," she called gently.
The air shifted ever so slightly.
The old man paused, turning his gaze toward her. Though his expression remained amicable, a flicker of interest crossed his eyes.
"I'd like to visit my mother today."
The hum of conversation dimmed. It was only a moment–an unspoken pause that came whenever someone like her mother was mentioned.
Her grandfather studied her for a beat before nodding. "Of course," he said lightly as if granting a minor request. He glanced toward the head butler. "Go, tell the guards."
Liliana lowered her eyes and offered a meek, grateful smile. "Thank you, Grandfather," she murmured.
As her grandfather walked away, she felt Evelyn's gaze settle on her the moment she turned to leave.
"As expected, always going to that unlucky place," Evelyn muttered under her breath with a tinge of disdain. "I suppose misery loves company."
Liliana didn't slow her steps, nor did she acknowledge the remark. But the faint curve of her lips–neither a smile nor a frown suggested she had heard it.
The guards at the villa stood at attention as she approached, the maids and the guards greeted her with respectful nods. "Fourth lady," one of them intoned softly as she passed.
Liliana gave a slight nod before stepping inside.
Outside in the garden, her mother sat in her wheelchair, carefully trimming a delicate cluster of plants. The cool breeze rustles the leaves, carrying the faint scent of soil and fresh greenery. The sight softened Liliana's heart.
"Mom," Liliana called out as she stepped closer.
Her mother looked up, her facial softening into warmth the instant she saw her. "Lily, you little girl."
Liliana's brow furrowed as she reached out, touching her mother's cold fingers. "Why don't you take a rest? Your health is worrying."
Her mother chuckled lightly. "Oh, you sound like an old woman, nagging me." she replied, a playful edge in her tone. "This is my little hobby. Much better than just lying about all day."
Liliana sighed, taking her mother's hand more firmly. "At least sit inside for a while." she said, her voice tender.
The maids, familiar with the routine, quietly moved to push the wheelchair from behind as they made their way toward the house.