The city woke up buzzing.
Social feeds were flooded with flashes from the gala: glittering gowns, jeweled masks, powerful men, and dazzling women. But one face had stolen the spotlight entirely.
> #BlackwoodBeauty
"Who is she?"
"She's not even known! Who is this mysterious woman on Killian Blackwood's arm?"
"No one really knows. Even though she's from a wealthy home, she's practically unknown—no one knew her story."
Lilian Monroe was the youngest and least known daughter of Reginald Monroe, a once-powerful businessman whose empire crumbled under reckless gambling and shady dealings with the wrong men. She had spent years studying abroad, making her parents proud with her intelligence and grace—but none of this was public knowledge. Her father had never brought his daughters into the spotlight, least of all Lilian, his precious little girl, whom he ultimately failed by selling to Killian.
Julie, on the other hand, had only been known among her father's co-businessmen, billionaires, and politicians—but for all the wrong reasons. Those men had slept with her since she was nineteen, spreading tales of her debauchery in secret circles. Her parents knew they couldn't control her, but they had no idea how deep her scandal ran. Lilian, in contrast, remained an unknown—a hidden gem whose brilliance and beauty no one had ever publicly seen.
And now she was the mysterious trending #BlackwoodBeauty.
"A goddess in emerald—class, innocence, and fire all in one."
By morning, Lilian's photos had gone viral—her name whispered in group chats, her image replayed in endless loops on gossip blogs and fashion threads. She was the kind of beauty you couldn't ignore, the kind that turned admiration into obsession.
Julie Monroe saw it all. Every time she picked up her phone, Lilian's face stared back at her—praised, adored, envied.
And it burned.
It wasn't just jealousy. It was fury.
She had clawed her way into power through lust and danger, while her sister had stumbled into fame overnight just by existing at Killian Blackwood's side.
Julie slammed her phone face down.
Fine. Let them worship Lilian. She had her own stage, her own kingdom. And tonight, she would claim a man even more dangerous than Killian.
---
But Lilian had no idea. Since the night she was brought into Killian's mansion, her access to the outside world had been stripped away. She had no phone, couldn't make calls, and wasn't allowed to receive any. Social media was a foreign world to her now—a world she didn't even know she had entered.
Yet even in her isolation, she couldn't escape the whispers of her fame.
The staff were buzzing. Everywhere she walked, hushed conversations followed, even in the grand halls of the main mansion where she lived. From the other quarters, where she had never ventured, tales of the mysterious emerald-clad beauty circulated. The staff gossiped in quiet corners, even the gardener and butlers in Dr. Roland's wing had seen the headlines.
Dr. Roland, a good young man and completely harmless, had been called to tend to Lilian's ankle the night she had arrived. He had been professional, of course, but the moment he laid eyes on her, something had shifted. The memory of her poised, flawless form, played over and over in his mind.
That morning, he shared the news with his friend, the gardener, in their quarters.
"She's everywhere," Roland said, his eyes bright, voice carrying an unfamiliar excitement. "I can't believe how… stunning she is. That night, just attending to her, I—I felt something I can't describe."
The gardener laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Wake up from your dream, Doctor. She's not going to notice you staring."
Roland chuckled, though the flush on his cheeks betrayed him. "Ever since that night, I've been secretly hoping someone else in the main mansion gets sick or needs medical attention. Just so I'd get another chance to see her."
The gardener laughed harder this time, shaking his head. "You're hopeless, Roland. Totally hopeless."
---
It was Samantha's arrival later that morning that would bring the reality of Lilian's sudden fame into the mansion itself. Killian's PA had entered the main mansion with her usual poise, heading straight to Killian's study for work purposes.
"Morning, Killian. I've prepared the schedule for the week," Samantha said, placing a neatly organized folder on his desk. Her voice was crisp, professional, efficient—the kind that commanded attention without needing to raise it.
Killian glanced at the documents and nodded, listening as she ran through the plans. The discussion was sharp, strategic, and quick, finished within minutes as both efficiently reviewed the priorities for the upcoming week.
"Everything is clear. Thank you, Samantha. That will do for now," Killian said, his voice calm but clipped.
"Of course, sir," she replied with a subtle, professional smile, tucking her notes and moving to the door.
As they stepped out together, the pair crossed paths with Lilian in the grand living room. She was just coming from her brief interaction with Clara, heading toward the stairs leading to her quarters.
"Look who we have here!" Samantha exclaimed, genuine excitement lighting her face as she approached.
Lilian didn't smile. Not once. She hadn't smiled since the night she was bought as his property, never showing warmth toward anyone—not even toward Samantha.
"Please, just a moment," Samantha said quickly, maintaining professionalism while extending her hand. "I have something for you. I'm sure you won't be surprised."
From her hand, she presented a magazine. The cover featured Lilian and Killian together, the headline boldly reading:
> #BlackwoodBeauty
"You're everywhere!" Samantha said with enthusiasm, a sincere, light tone in her voice.
Lilian froze. She didn't speak. Her gaze locked on Killian, a raw intensity in her eyes he had never seen before—fear, defiance, and something more unspoken. Killian, for once, didn't know how to interpret it. She had never looked at him like this before.
Wordlessly, Lilian took the magazine and walked up the stairs, each step measured and deliberate, her presence commanding attention even without a sound.
Killian remained where he was, watching. As Samantha turned to leave, he walked her out, noting the cool Sunday air and the tension still lingering in the mansion. She had come to review business plans, but Killian could sense the quiet undercurrent of Lilian's emotions—a hatred visible in the smallest shift of her expression.
Once Samantha departed, he strolled back into the mansion. His gaze lingered on the staircase, the spot where Lilian had disappeared moments ago, as though tracing her ascent with his eyes could capture the sense of her presence. After a silent minute, he walked to his study.
Clara, unseen, had been watching. She had known Killian Blackwood as a man who was often unshakable, commanding, untouchable—but today he looked… different. Helpless, almost vulnerable. Was it remorse? Or something softer? She couldn't tell. But it was clearer to her now than ever: Lilian was different from anyone else he had ever encountered. She was no ordinary girl, and she was changing the very atmosphere of the Blackwood mansion simply by being herself.