Chapter 7: The Price

Liliana stepped upstairs, her footsteps echoing softly against the marble.

She entered the study. The air grew heavy again as she picked up the brush, tracing each stroke carefully.

Snap.

The sharp crack of a ruler broke the silence.

A few heads flinched ever so slightly. No one dared to look up.

"How many more mistakes are you going to make?" an elderly woman, perched beside Liliana's grandmother, scolded, her sharp tone slicing through the room.

She gestured towards a young cousin, directing her to the calligraphy teacher. "Go stand there and receive your punishment."

The cousin shrank, her face pale, and walked towards the teacher, her movement stiff and hesitant. She bowed her head, extending her arm, fingers trembling slightly.

The teacher with ruthless precision slammed the ruler down–once, twice, thrice, four times.

The girl clenched her teeth, letting out only the faintest hum. Any sound beyond that meant more. Her skin turned red.

Liliana barely lifted her lashes. She continued writing, her pause so subtle it was almost unnoticeable.

The scene though brutal, was a familiar occurrence in the household.

But the atmosphere had shifted–some felt it more than others.

"What are you staring at? Continue."

The old woman's voice snapped them back. Brushes gliding across the paper again, rustling in response.

She was about to add another sharp remark when she caught the sight of a movement. Liliana had stepped forward, paper in hand.

The old woman hesitated, lips parting to say something but stopped.

Liliana bypassed her, the elderly woman's opinion held no weight in her world. Only her grandmother's approval mattered.

"Grandmother, please." Liliana placed the sheet before the matriarch with a respectful bow.

Her Grandmother's expression barely softened. Among all the granddaughters, Liliana was the most obedient and promising. Wise-spoken and worry-free.

With a warm nod, she took the paper and scanned through it. "Good words, child. Steady as always."

"Thank you, Grandmother." Liliana knelt before her. 

"You may go and rest."

She rose, stepping away as she left the study. 

Back in her room.

Liliana stepped into the shower.

The cold water ran down her skin, drowning the lingering voices in her head.

Liliana let out a slow breath, her fingers pushing back wet strands of hair. The sharp chill felt grounding.

She turned off the shower, wrapping herself in a robe, droplets sliding down her still-damp hair.

She walked to the bedside table and reached for the familiar bottle, numbly taking a pill into her mouth and washing it down with water.

She let herself fall onto the bed, her body sinking into the mattress.

The voices grew louder in her head, a cacophony of fear and pain.

She curled into a fetal position, the pain threading through her limbs, but she didn't cry out. Her fingers dug into the sheets, holding herself still as the pressure built as if containing something clawing to escape.

Her breath came in ragged gasps. 

Only the sound of her pained breathing filled the room. Gradually, the sound subsided, replaced by the steady rhythm of sleep.

Eventually, only the faint trace of cold sweat clinging to her temple remained.

---

The next day, Hillary kept his word. The contract was signed, the deal was sealed. Over dinner, he turned to their grandfather with a broad smile.

"Grandfather, the signing went smoothly. Tonight, I'd like to take my cousins out to celebrate."

Their grandfather, in a rare good mood, nodded. "Go ahead. But don't make a mess."

"Of course," Hillary said smoothly. "I wouldn't dare."

Albert seated a little farther down, tapping his teacup lightly, uninterested. "I'll pass. There's still work to be done."

Hillary glances at him, "Always so diligent, Little Brother. But work will still be there tomorrow, won't it?"

Albert gave him a polite smile. "Certainly. Enjoy yourself."

Their grandfather, oblivious or perhaps choosing not to comment, stood up. Albert followed suit, heading upstairs with him.

As soon as they left, their cousins turned to Hillary expectantly. 

"Where are we going?" one asked, eager.

Hillary laughed, stretching his arms. "Somewhere fun."

Bright neon lights flashed overhead, reflecting against the sleek black cars lined at the entrance. The deep bass of the DJ's set pulsed through the walls, blending with the chatter of well-dressed patrons stepping in and out.

Liliana stepped out of the car, her gaze sweeping over the scene.

A luxurious fusion of fine dining, nightlife, and exclusivity–one of the city's most extravagant spots.

Well, typical Hillary.

Inside, the air was thick with laughter, music, and the clink of glasses. The private lounge Hillary booked had an excellent view of the city, but no one was paying attention to it.

Seraphina had already downed a couple of drinks. She stood, raising another glass. "Another toast!"

A few cousins joined her, laughing as they clinked glasses.

Hillary, meanwhile, slung an arm around a young man, the youngest son of the fourth house, pushing a whiskey glass into his hand.

"Come on, let's make a man out of you today," he grinned, picking up his own glass. "Drink."

The younger cousin hesitated, but he raised the glass under Hillary's watchful eye.

Seraphina wobbled slightly in her high heels, her flushed face full of enthusiasm as she dropped down beside Liliana. She raised a glass and nudged it toward her.

"Come, let's drink today," she urged, as she attempted to thrust a glass of champagne into Liliana's hand.

"I don't..." Liliana leaned away, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the condensation on her juice glass.

"Don't you know Liliana doesn't drink?" Theodore interrupted, his eyes sharp. "Don't force her."

The room quieted for a beat. A few curious glances stared her way.

Seraphina clicked her tongue. "Am I not allowed to celebrate a nice day?" She swirled her glass, her face contorted with displeasure. "My engagement will be held soon, after all."

Still, she reluctantly withdrew her hand, setting the drink back down with an audible clink.

Liliana watched the liquid ripple in the glass. Then, unexpectedly, she reached out, picking it up herself. She turned to Seraphina, her lips curling into something unreadable.

"Then let me congratulate you," she murmured before tilting the glass back and drinking it all in one go.

The bubbles tickled her throat, the unfamiliar taste of alcohol sending a slight burn down her esophagus. A small cough escaped her lips as she placed the empty glass back on the table.

Seraphina stared at Liliana, momentarily thrown off. Was she gloating or was she genuinely wishing her well?

At best, the alcohol had already blurred the lines.