The Wrenford Family Residence
The early morning sun spilled golden light across the polished floors of the Wrenford estate. The maids moved briskly through the halls, the scent of fresh croissants and brewed coffee wafting from the kitchen.
In the grand dining room, Selena Wrenford stood by the tall window, draped in a silk robe dress the color of cream. Her brows were slightly drawn together as she watched the empty driveway.
She turned with a scowl. "Has Erisia returned yet?" she snapped at a nearby maid arranging the cutlery.
The young woman flinched, nearly dropping a fork. "N-No, ma'am. Miss Erisia hasn't come home since yesterday."
Selena's eyes narrowed, her lips twitching in irritation. "Useless," she muttered under her breath, before waving her hand like she was swatting away a fly. "Leave."
The maid bowed her head and practically fled the room, her relief palpable.
Not two seconds later, another maid appeared at the threshold with a slight curtsy. "Ma'am, breakfast is ready."
Selena didn't look at her. "Call Sierra and Leander down."
"They've already been informed, ma'am," the maid replied politely. "Young Master and Young Miss will be down shortly."
Right on cue, light footsteps echoed from the grand staircase behind her.
"Good morning, Mom!" came Sierra's voice, melodic and sweet like a well-rehearsed piano tune. "How was your night? I hope you slept well?"
Selena turned at once, her face softening like someone had flipped a switch. All the storm clouds melted into maternal affection. She crossed the room quickly, her robe trailing behind her.
"Oh, my darling," she breathed, arms open as Sierra reached the last step. She cradled her daughter tightly. "You're the most thoughtful child a mother could ever wish for. Even after what you went through last night, you're still thinking of me."
She pulled back, brushing Sierra's dark hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. Her expression dimmed with sorrow.
"I'm so sorry, my love. I failed you last night. I couldn't protect you from that evil thing. First, she pushed you into the pool, then—she slapped you! She slapped my daughter! The nerve of that girl. If she dares show her face in this house again, I swear I will—"
"Mom! Mom…" Sierra interrupted quickly, laying a calming hand on Selena's arm. "Don't fret, please. You don't have to worry. I'm fine, aren't I?"
She offered a small, composed smile, eyes lowering slightly. "And as for my sister… It's understandable. I mean, the orphanage she grew up in—God knows what kind of place it was. It must've shaped her. Maybe she didn't mean to hurt me. Maybe she just… lashed out. I did try to talk to her, to calm her down, to help her understand that you weren't mad at her. But maybe I said the wrong thing, and she lost control."
She clenched her fists beneath the long bell sleeves of her vintage red off-shoulder dress. "And the slap… maybe it was just misdirected pain. You hit her… she probably felt betrayed and was angry. I just happened to be in the way."
Selena looked stricken for a second. "You're such a good child. So kind and benevolent it worries me sometimes. How could she treat you like that?"
"It's okay, Mom. I understand. So you should too, alright? Let's not get worked up over her."
Selena sighed, visibly moved. She reached out and cupped Sierra's cheek again, her thumb brushing gently over flawless skin. "You're too forgiving for this world."
"Maybe," Sierra said, her eyes still sweet but glittering with something sharper underneath. "But someone has to be."
Selena gave a small chuckle and linked their arms. "Let's forget about that ungrateful brat and eat. Where's your brother? Didn't the maid say she called him?"
Sierra smiled as they made their way to the table. "He said he was busy and would be down soon."
Selena scoffed. "Busy? At this hour? I'll remind him this isn't a hotel where he can come and go as he pleases."
Just as Selena and Sierra neared the table, a deep voice echoed lazily from the staircase above.
"Sierra, you're too nice. You don't even know the people who wish to harm you," Leander said, descending in a tailored navy sweater and slacks, his shirt collar peeking out. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he hadn't fully shaken off sleep but didn't care enough to fix it. His eyes, however, were trained on his sister.
"And even though she did," he continued as he stepped into the dining room, "you still don't blame her for it."
Sierra looked up at him, a smile pinned politely on her lips, but the curve didn't quite reach her eyes.
He stopped beside her and turned to their mother, hands in his pockets. "Mom, you should watch out for your daughter. My elder brother and I may not be here forever. Of course, we'll try our best to protect her," his voice dipped, "but still… she needs to have at least a basic sense of self-preservation."
"Oh my God," Sierra huffed, pouting as she tugged at the sleeve of his sweater. "Brother, are you insulting me?"
Leander smirked, leaning just a fraction closer. "What do you think?"
She let out a small, grumbling sound of indignation and turned her face away with an angry stomp of her heel.
Leander only laughed, reaching over to ruffle her carefully curled hair with a hand that was definitely aware of how much effort she'd put into it.
"Leander!" she squealed, swatting at him with both hands. "I spent forty-five minutes with a round brush!"
Selena laughed and gave Leander a light smack on the shoulder. "Stop teasing your sister, you brat."
He held up his hands in surrender, still grinning. "Alright, alright. I'll behave—for now."
Selena rolled her eyes, ushering both of them toward the long, glossy dining table. "Enough with the antics. Sit down, both of you. The croissants are fresh and the chef made that ridiculous imported jam Sierra likes."
Sierra brightened instantly, smoothing her sleeves as she took her place at the table. "You mean the one from that French vineyard near Aix? With the champagne grapes?"
"Yes, yes," Selena waved a hand as she took her seat at the head of the table. "Honestly, I don't know how anyone eats that syrupy mess, but if it makes you happy…"
"It does," Sierra replied cheerfully, already reaching for her knife and plate like a little princess at court. Her mood was perfectly restored.
Leander shook his head as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "You two really are something else."
*
Upstairs – Sierra's Bedroom
The moment Sierra stepped into her room and the door clicked shut behind her, the façade cracked like a porcelain mask dropped on marble.
The sweet, gentle expression she wore melted off her face, revealing a scowl that contorted her features into something dark and venomous.
She marched across the plush carpet, yanked her phone from the vanity, and stabbed at the screen with barely restrained fury.
It rang. And rang.
She ground her teeth. "Pick. Up. The. Damn—"
"Hello?" came the voice on the other end, chirpy and slightly breathless.
Sierra didn't waste a second. "Why did you take so long to pick up the call, Megan?"
"I'm sorry! I was finishing a clip for my fashion blog—lighting was perfect so I had to—"
"Whatever." Her voice was sharp, "Why the hell haven't I seen the video from last night on the internet yet? Didn't I specifically ask you to post it?"
A nervous pause. Then: "You know I can't post it. I'm a fashion influencer. My page is curated, Sierra! I can't mix personal drama with my brand—even if it's, like, totally unjust what happened to you at that party."
Sierra inhaled slowly through her nose. "If you can't post it, find someone else to."
"I mean… none of my influencer friends will either. It's all about aesthetics and content control, and they're scared of backlash or lawsuits—"
"God, Megan, I'm not talking about your bubblegum-flavored fashion friends! I'm talking about gossip sites. You know, tabloids? Don't you know anyone who'll take the video, write the story the way I want, and get it seen?"
There was a beat of silence. Then Megan perked up. "Oh! Actually… I think I do. There's this girl who runs a scandal account with a huge following—like, viral-level reach. She doesn't care about reputations, she just wants views."
"Perfect." Sierra's voice dripped with satisfaction. "Contact her. Get the price. I'll send the video, the narrative, everything through you. Keep your name out of it."
"Uhh… why can't you just do it yourself—?"
"I'll get you that Louis Vuitton spring season bag collection you wouldn't stop drooling over last week."
Megan squealed. "Seriously?! Aww, you're the best! Okay! I'm on it. I'll message her right now and get back to you in, like, an hour max!"
Sierra gave a sugary-sweet smile, her tone syrup-thick. "That's what friends are for, right? Helping each other."
"Totally! Byeee!"
"Bye."
The second the call ended, her face soured again. She tossed the phone onto the bed and crossed her arms over her chest.
Her eyes flickered with fury as she stared at the mirror above her dresser.
"Let's see what you do about this, Erisia."
A slow, venomous smirk tugged at her lips.
"Your little burst of courage was cute," she murmured to her reflection. "But I will crush it. You hit me. You touched me. And now you'll pay, you filthy little charity case."
Her fingers curled into fists.
—•—
Hi everyone! I want to clarify a few things about Sierra's action. You might be wondering why Sierra decided to make the incident public herself. The truth is, she's not only trying to portray Erisia as a clear-cut villain, but she's also insinuating that Erisia almost tried to murder her. On top of that, Sierra wants to ensure that all of her friends—many of whom are male and would go to great lengths for her—are fully aware of the situation without her having to explain it directly. This strategic move is meant to make Erisia's life difficult, just like in the original story, where Erisia was targeted, subjected to humiliation before, and attacked before someone ultimately killed her. I hope this brings clarity to the matter.
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