A New Dawn for Michelle

Sunlight spilt through the towering windows of the Smith ancestral estate, casting rich golden light across the marble floors and intricate mouldings. Despite the mansion's usual heavy silence, a rare hum of energy filled the halls that morning.

Michelle sat cross-legged on a velvet chaise in Samantha's room, gently parting her daughter's hair into neat sections. Samantha's tiny legs swung off the edge of the seat, her reflection smiling back at her in the ornate mirror.

"Hold still, my love," Michelle murmured, threading a soft pink ribbon through Samantha's braid.

"I'm trying, Mama!" Samantha giggled, wriggling before settling obediently.

Just as Michelle tied off the last braid, her phone buzzed against the velvet cushion. Distracted, she reached for it, expecting another routine message. 

But her breath caught when she saw the name on the screen — The Annual Venture Gala Committee. 

Slowly, she answered. The voice on the other end was crisp and formal, but Michelle barely heard the words — caterer selection, exclusive, featured vendor for this year's gala, congratulations.

Tears sprang to her eyes. "We did it," she whispered, her voice cracking.

Samantha turned wide-eyed toward her. "Did what, Mama?"

Michelle scooped her daughter into her arms, clutching her tightly. "We did it, Sam. We got the big job — the biggest!" she laughed through tears. "It's all thanks to you, my sweet girl."

Samantha's arms wrapped around her mother's neck in a tight hug. "I love you, Mama," she said seriously.

"I love you more, little sunshine," Michelle whispered back.

For a long moment, they stayed wrapped together — a quiet island of joy inside the old, solemn estate. Then, Michelle wiped her tears, stood, and kissed Samantha's forehead.

"Today, we celebrate!" she declared brightly, grabbing her phone again.

She dialled Giselle without hesitation. "Giselle! You have to bring the kids after school. We're having a feast — no arguments. Even if you have to drag Logan in by the tie."

On the other end, Giselle's warm laugh rumbled through the phone, easing some of the tightness in Michelle's chest.

As soon as the call ended, Michelle turned to the hallway, clapping her hands sharply. "Lia! Estelle! Into the kitchens — now!" she called, half laughing.

Two maids in crisp uniforms popped their heads around the corner, wide-eyed. "Madam?" Lia asked, half breathless.

"We're hosting a celebration on short notice. Pull out the good china, dust off the banquet table, and let's see what we can whip up," Michelle said, her eyes sparkling.

Estelle brightened immediately. "We'll need fresh bread! And lemon tarts — the ones Master Alexander likes!"

Michelle grinned. "Exactly! And tell Hector we'll need lamb roasted — oh, and don't forget Samantha's strawberry compote."

Lia bowed quickly. "At once, Madam!"

The maids scurried down the hall, their heels clicking rapidly against the marble. Samantha skipped alongside her mother, excitement bubbling out of her.

"Can we have chocolate cake too? Please, please?"

Michelle pretended to ponder, tapping her chin dramatically. "Hmm... I don't know... Have you been a good helper today?"

Samantha stood tall and proud. "I stayed still for braiding!"

"Good enough!" Michelle laughed, ruffling her daughter's hair.

Downstairs, the kitchen exploded into motion. Cookware clattered, and the smell of rising bread and roasting meat began drifting through the mansion's old stone bones.

"I'll call for fresh flowers too," Estelle said, racing past with an armful of linen. "The gardenias bloomed early this year."

"Good idea!" Michelle called after her, marvelling at how quickly the mansion could come alive when given a little hope.

In the dining room, Lia carefully polished the long silver candelabras that hadn't been touched in years. "They'll be so proud, Madam," she said quietly as Michelle passed. "You've worked so hard."

Michelle paused, smiling at the older maid who had practically raised her children alongside her. "Thank you, Lia," she said warmly. "This is just the beginning."

Still, as Michelle moved through the house, her footsteps echoing against the stone, an old shiver whispered down her spine. The Annual Venture Gala wasn't just a prestigious party. It was the event where powerful families — and hidden forces — gathered to set the country's future into motion. It was where invisible wars began.

She shook the thought away and focused instead on Samantha's laughter, the clink of silverware, and the smell of hope baking in the ovens. For once, the mansion felt like a home.

But deep inside the older, shuttered wings of the estate — behind locked doors and silent halls — a different kind of anticipation brewed. Old promises. Old ambitions. And the storm was inching closer.