CHAPTER 9 — Navira's POV
"If You Want a War, Agnes… I Don't Lose."
Dinner time.
Vivienne calls me from downstairs, voice echoing up the polished staircase.
"Navira, sweetheart! Come down!"
Sweetheart.
Still weird.
Still useful.
I step out of my room and start heading toward the stairs, only to see Agnes already standing in the middle of the landing, blocking the path like a villain with no budget.
She flips her hair dramatically.
"Finally," she says. "We need to talk."
Oh, God.
Here we go.
I stop two steps above her.
"Talk fast. I'm hungry."
She glares. "You think this is a joke?"
"No, but you are," I say cheerfully.
Her nose flares.
Then she leans closer.
Her voice drops.
Quiet. Poisonous.
"You know they love me more."
I blink.
That's it?
That's her big threat?
"They loved me for seventeen years," she continues. "And you walk in for one day and think you can replace me?"
Replace?
Please.
I smile slowly.
"Agnes," I whisper, "I don't want love."
She freezes.
"I want success. Money. Fame."
I take one step down, so we're eye‑level.
"Power."
Her expression wavers. A tiny flicker of fear.
Good.
I continue softly, "Keep your love. I don't need it. I'm not here to steal your place in their hearts. I'm here to climb higher than you ever could."
She takes a shaky breath.
Then something in her eyes shifts.
A spark of desperation.
A spark of stupidity.
Oh no.
I already know what she's about to do before she even moves.
She steps backward toward the stairs.
Then another step.
Her hand trembles dramatically.
Oh, she's going to fake a fall.
"Agnes—don't," I say calmly.
She smirks.
"You're done, Navira."
She suddenly jerks her body like she's throwing herself backward—
I grab her wrist immediately.
My grip is firm.
Not painful.
Just enough to stop her from being an idiot.
"Oh wow," I whisper, smiling tightly, "you were really about to swan‑dive for attention? You know that would only hurt you, right?"
She jerks her hand from mine.
"I—shut up!"
Then she takes exactly three dramatic steps down—
Not falling.
Just stomping loudly.
Then she plops down gently on the stair with all the force of a soft pillow.
And then—
She lightly drags her nails across her forehead, fast and shallow, creating a thin line.
Not bloody.
Not deep.
Just… cosmetic injury.
I blink.
She screams at the top of her lungs.
"AHHHH! NAVIRA—STOP! I'M SORRY, PLEASE STOP!!"
I stare at her.
Girl, what the hell.
Within seconds, the entire Aurline family comes rushing out of the dining room.
Victor's face drains of color.
Vivienne gasps.
Alden curses under his breath.
Alastair goes stiff.
Mom rushes to Agnes. "Baby! What happened?!"
Agnes sobs dramatically, pointing at me with a trembling finger.
"She—she snapped! She pushed me! She grabbed me so hard! And she—she tried to—"
I blink.
Hands behind my back.
The picture of innocence.
Alden steps forward, eyes hard. "Navira. What did you do?"
Ah.
So that's how it is.
I could argue.
I could fight back.
But why waste breath?
I smile softly. "Would you like to hear the truth?"
Dad snaps, "This isn't the time for games—"
"It isn't a game," I say calmly.
"It's a recording."
The entire room goes silent.
Agnes' face drains of all color.
"R…recording?" Vivienne whispers.
I tap the small black pin clipped on the inside of my collar. Looks decorative. Is not.
"I don't go anywhere without it," I say simply. "Orphanage habit. You learn to keep receipts."
Alden's jaw drops.
Alastair's eyes widen.
Dad looks stunned.
I click the tiny button.
Agnes' voice fills the hallway:
"Just because you're back doesn't mean you get everything."
"They love me more."
"You think you can replace me?"
I don't want love, Agnes. I want success… money… fame. Power."
"You're done, Navira."
(Sound of Agnes stomping down stairs)
(Sound of her sitting down)
"AHHHH NAVIRA STOP—!"
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Agnes lets out a weak laugh. "I—it's—editing! She edited it—!"
Alastair speaks first.
Voice flat. Cold.
"Agnes. We watched you walk down the stairs. Not fall."
Alden folds his arms, furious. "You scratched yourself."
Vivienne covers her mouth. "My God…"
Victor rubs his face. "Agnes… what have you done?"
Agnes trembles. "I—she—she tricked me! She made me—!"
"No," I say softly.
"I didn't make you do anything. You tried to frame me. And you were bad at it."
She stares at me.
Horrified.
Humiliated.
I tilt my head.
Smile just a little.
"Next time," I whisper, "if you're going to fake a fall… maybe commit harder."
Her breath catches.
I turn and start down the stairs, calmly walking past them all.
"Dinner's getting cold," I say. "Let's not waste a meal."
And I continue downward, leaving Agnes frozen, the family stunned, and the entire house echoing with the truth:
I warned her.
I want power.
And this?
This is just the beginning.