At fourteen, Taesha's return to the House of Reeds had been fueled by naive hope. She'd genuinely believed that her biological parents, Serena and Felix, and her five brothers would embrace her with open arms. Instead, she'd been met with a chilling display of indifference and thinly veiled disdain.
The real vs. fake heiress drama had been the catalyst. Willow, the maid's daughter raised as a substitute heir, was treated like a priceless gem, shielded from any criticism and showered with affection.
Taesha, the blood relative, was relegated to the sidelines, her existence acknowledged only because of her lineage – a mere formality. The only warmth she'd received upon her return came from her grandparents, who saw past the family's manufactured drama and offered genuine affection.
The rest of the family treated her as an unwelcome outsider, a constant reminder of their complicated past and Willow's precarious position.
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Four years had passed since that initial reunion, and Taesha now sat in Dove Heaven Restaurant, a haven of opulent luxury where crystal chandeliers dripped like frozen waterfalls and the air hummed with hushed conversations and the clinking of expensive silverware.
She was waiting for Karson, her boyfriend, a man whose charm and good looks were only rivaled by his family's immense wealth and influence. A delicate ruby-red wine swirled in her glass as she took a long, contemplative sip. The taste was exquisite, but a slight frown creased her brow.
Her phone buzzed, shattering the quiet ambiance. It was Yolan Swan, her fiercely loyal best friend. Taesha was an anomaly in high society – breathtakingly beautiful yet emotionally detached, radiating an aura of serene indifference that could quickly shift into a chilling coldness.
Her beauty was a captivating blend of ethereal and dangerous—a rare celestial phenomenon. Her skin was a flawless expanse of pale, snowy white, not sickly but luminous, as if reflecting an inner light.
Thick, dark lashes brushed against each other, framing eyes the color of deep ocean depths – mesmerizing pools that hinted at hidden storms.
Long, wavy raven hair cascaded down her back, reaching past her hips, a silken waterfall of impossible softness. Her legs were slender and long, a model's dream come true, and her fingers were delicate and smooth.
It was a beauty that commanded attention, yet it was tempered by an almost glacial composure. She moved with an effortless grace, radiating an aura of quiet power—a still winter storm waiting to erupt.
Today, she wore a striking black and white ensemble: a black and white skirt paired with a matching crop top.
"Yol, what's up?" Taesha asked, her voice a low murmur, tinged with a slight yawn as she glanced at the untouched food on the table. It was a question delivered without inflection, betraying none of the interest she actually felt.
"You won't believe what I saw! Well, who I saw and who I saw her with!" Yolan exclaimed on the other end of the line, her voice crackling with agitated excitement. Taesha wasn't easily swayed by gossip or drama—she found most social interactions tedious—but Yolan's tone piqued her curiosity.
"Who is it?" Taesha inquired, her gaze drifting towards the panoramic window overlooking the bustling city below.
"Okay, I will tell you! It is that sister of yours, the fake heiress Willow Reed! She just returned from Australia and now she is clinging to your boyfriend, my goodness, you and Karson are almost engaged!" Yolan practically shrieked, a distinct note of outrage coloring her voice.
Taesha's expression didn't change. She remained outwardly calm, a mask of serene indifference firmly in place. But internally, a flicker of something akin to amusement sparked within her.
"What were they doing at the hospital?" Taesha asked, her voice still measured and devoid of emotion. The question was casual, almost detached, as if inquiring about the weather.
"Pregnancy! What else?" Yolan practically sputtered on the other end.
A subtle flash of coldness—barely perceptible even to Yolan—rippled through Taesha's dark eyes. She nodded her head, though Yolan couldn't see it through the phone's speaker. Then, she abruptly ended the call and glanced at the photograph Yolan had likely sent.
Her fingers tightened around the phone, her knuckles turning white as she stared at the image. A slow, almost chilling chuckle escaped her lips—a sound devoid of warmth or mirth.
Two years ago, Willow had dramatically announced her departure from the House of Reeds, claiming she shouldn't be allowed to leech off Taesha's inheritance as a fake heiress.
Of course, the narrative had conveniently shifted to portray Taesha as the villain—the one who had driven Willow away, the one who was selfishly hoarding all the family's wealth and affection. It was a classic manipulation tactic, and Taesha had recognized it instantly.
Taesha understood Willow Reed perfectly—she was a textbook example of a green tea personality, someone who masqueraded as an innocent, virtuous individual while expertly manipulating situations to their advantage. She excelled at shifting blame and portraying herself as the perpetual victim.
Her phone rang again, cutting through her thoughts.
The caller ID displayed Karson.
"Karson, today is our three-year anniversary," Taesha stated, her voice flat and devoid of any celebratory tone. It was a statement of fact, not an expression of sentimentality.
"Willow is back, sick and wants to finish her last year of high school in Hong Kong," Karson said, his voice sounding strained, almost hesitant. There was a subtle defensiveness in his tone that Taesha immediately picked up on.
Taesha remained unnervingly calm, as if the news held no significance whatsoever. She gave no outward indication of surprise or concern.
"Is she really sick? Or is she pregnant?" Taesha asked, her voice laced with an almost clinical detachment.