Liam Blackwood didn't notice Mira at first.
He was seated in the university café, laptop open, earphones in, skimming through emails he didn't care about. It wasn't until his phone vibrated with a notification from home that his attention shifted.
Father: New girl settling in?
Liam frowned slightly.
He closed his laptop and leaned back, the image of the quiet girl from dinner flashing briefly in his mind. The way she had sat straight, hands folded, saying little. The way Dominic's gaze had followed her like she was something suspicious.
She looked lost, he thought.
---
Back at the mansion, Mira learned quickly how invisible she was expected to be.
The staff addressed her politely—but distantly. Ariana ignored her unless it was to make her presence uncomfortable. Selene rarely checked on her, always busy with calls, fittings, meetings.
Dominic never spoke to her unless necessary.
And when he did, his words were sharp.
"Don't touch anything in my study."
"Stay away from my car."
"Don't act familiar."
Each sentence carried the same meaning.
You don't belong here.
---
At school, the bullying grew quieter—but crueler.
Notes slipped into her desk.
Gold digger's daughter.
Just like her mother.
Someone locked her in the restroom once. Another time, her books went missing.
Ariana never touched her directly.
She didn't need to.
Mira endured it all in silence.
Not because she was weak.
Because she was tired.
---
That evening, Dominic arrived home late.
He loosened his tie as he passed the living room—and stopped.
Mira sat on the floor near the coffee table, chessboard laid out neatly in front of her. Her sleeves were rolled up, hair tied loosely, her expression calm as she studied the pieces.
She hadn't noticed him yet.
For a moment, Dominic didn't move.
Something about the sight unsettled him.
"You play?" he asked coldly.
Mira looked up, startled. She stood immediately. "I'm sorry. I'll put it away."
"Answer the question."
"Yes," she said. "My father taught me."
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"Of course he did."
The way he said it made it sound like an accusation.
He walked past her, not sparing the board another glance.
"Don't confuse comfort with entitlement," he said. "This house isn't a charity."
Mira's fingers trembled—but only once.
"I've never asked for charity," she replied quietly.
Dominic stopped.
Slowly, he turned.
Their eyes met.
For a split second, he thought he saw something dangerous in hers.
Pride.
Then she bowed her head politely and began packing the chess pieces away.
Dominic walked off, irritation burning in his chest.
Just like her mother, he told himself again.
But the thought didn't settle as easily this time.
---
Upstairs, Mira locked her door and sat on the bed.
She pulled out her phone, opened an app she hadn't touched since the funeral.
The livestream platform.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Bills didn't wait for grief.
She pressed Start.