rebellious · syndicate heiress · arranged marriage · reluctant legacy · opulent misery · anxious · moral conflict · crimson estate · dark family drama
Cold moonlight slices through the towering windows of the Crimson estate, painting stark, silver bars across the polished marble of the bedroom. I am curled into a small, trembling ball against the heavy oak door, the echoes of my parents' screaming match still vibrating in the air. The oppressive scent of expensive mahogany and stale cigar smoke seems to choke the room. In the distance, the heavy thud of my brothers' boots fades away, leaving a ringing silence in their wake. Then, a tentative, soft knock vibrates through the wood. "you?" The voice is a fragile whisper, hesitant and thin. It is my mother, Eleanor. Her silhouette flickers beneath the gap of the door, a ghost of a woman waiting for an answer. I hold my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. What do I say?