The scheme

Ethan lay on his bed, one hand behind his head, the other holding his phone to his ear. His room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of his bedside lamp. Rain tapped rhythmically against the windows.

"Have you checked again?" he asked, voice low.

"I've checked, like, every hour," Iva replied from the other end of the line. Her tone was dry, but beneath it was a nervous current. "Still nothing. No update from Briar University. I'm starting to think they lost my application or something."

Ethan smiled faintly. "They didn't. You're just impatient."

"Impatient? Ethan, this is the school I've dreamed of since I was twelve. I wrote my essay four times and made my uncle read it twice. I'm allowed to be a little impatient."

"You're getting in. If Briar has any sense at all, they'll be lucky to have you."

There was a pause on the line. Then she said quietly, "What about you? Still nothing from Stoxford?"

He sighed, eyes flicking toward his untouched laptop. "Still nothing."

Before Iva could say anything, a knock came at Ethan's door.

"Hang on," he muttered, pulling the phone from his ear. "Yeah?"

Henry opened the door gently, his tie loosened, his eyes tired but calm.

"Just wanted to check on you," he said.

Ethan nodded. "Still waiting."

Henry stepped in, placing a hand on Ethan's shoulder. His grip was steady, reassuring.

"I don't need a letter to know what you're capable of, son. Whether it's Stoxford or somewhere else—you'll thrive. I know it."

Ethan looked at him, a flicker of something quiet and grateful in his eyes. "Thanks, Dad."

Henry nodded once, gave his shoulder a light squeeze, then stepped out. Ethan picked up the phone again.

"Iva?"

"Still here."

He settled back against the pillows. "You know, I think our parents are more nervous than we are."

She laughed softly. "Your dad's sweet. My mom, on the other hand, told me if I don't get in, I'm applying again next year and again after that until I do."

Ethan chuckled. "Sounds about right."

Meanwhile, In his wing of the house, Liam stood by the floor-length window, arms crossed as he stared out into the drizzle coating the Richardson estate. His laptop sat open behind him, the Stoxford portal blinking idly on the screen.

He hadn't checked it in the last ten minutes. That was discipline. Or denial.

Anna stepped in without knocking, her heels soft against the velvet carpet. She wore a cream silk blouse and her hair was perfectly in place, as if she were going out, not visiting her son's room at dusk.

"You're quiet," she said, her voice low and velvety.

Liam didn't turn. "Still nothing."

Anna walked over to his desk and eyed the screen. Her hand smoothed over the back of his chair before she finally spoke again.

"You know what this means for us."

He turned then, brow furrowed.

"For us?"

"For you," she corrected softly, stepping closer. "But yes. Us. The world watches everything we do, Liam. Everything you do. You're not just applying to a university. You're fighting for your place."

He sighs,tired. "So if I don't get in?

"No, don't say that, it's a must you do" she said gently, almost sweetly. "You know how people love to compare. Especially when your cousin is applying to the same place."

His eyes hardened a little, but she leaned in, brushing a nonexistent crease from his collar.

"You've always had the edge, Liam. You were born with it. Don't start second-guessing now. You deserve that spot. And the world will expect to see your name on that list."

Her words sank in slowly. She kissed his forehead lightly.

"I know you'll make me proud," she said, and left before he could respond.

Liam stood there for a moment, staring at the empty doorway. Then he turned to his laptop—and refreshed the page again.

At Alberts, Laura sat cross-legged on her pristine white bedspread, her eyes glued to her laptop. Her manicured fingers hit the refresh button again. Still nothing.

Her mother passed by the doorway, a silk robe swishing as she walked.

"Still checking?" she asked, not stopping.

Laura didn't look away. "Yes. I need to get into Stoxford."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "You'll get in. You're an Albert."

"That's not why I need to get in," Laura said, her tone hardening. "Ethan and Liam are going. That's where the future is. That's where everything's going to happen."

"Ah," her mother replied knowingly. "So it's about power. Or boys?"

"Both," Laura muttered. "Same thing."

She refreshed the page again. And again. Then she whispered under her breath, "I'm not being left behind."

The following morning broke with a heavy sky, the kind that made everything feel suspended — like the universe was holding its breath.

Ethan was already awake, sitting at his desk, tapping his pen against a notebook but not writing anything. His phone buzzed. A message from Stoxford Admissions. The subject line simply read: Your Decision is Now Available.

He stared at it for a second, his breath catching. Then, slowly, he opened it.

Behind his door, Henry and Stephanie stood quietly in the hallway, waiting but not intruding.

Inside the room, Ethan read the first line. And then blinked. Read it again.

He stood up. Not suddenly. Almost like he wasn't sure his legs would believe it. His mouth opened, but no sound came. Then a small smile. Not triumphant. Just… full.

He reached for his door, pulled it open—and there were his parents, pretending they weren't standing there the whole time.

"I got in," he said softly.

Stephanie let out a short, breathy laugh, her eyes misting. Henry's shoulders relaxed as he gave his son a firm nod.

"We're proud of you," Henry said. "No matter what. But this—this is something."

Ethan nodded, still processing. Still holding onto the surreal weight of it all.

At the same moment, in the opposite wing of the house, Liam's laptop pinged.

He sat up, eyes flicking to the screen.

Message received: Stoxford University — Decision Notification.

His chest rose and fell once. He didn't check it right away. He stood. He paced. Then, finally, he clicked.

The first sentence appeared—and so did the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

His mouth curved upward, slow but sure.

Anna appeared in the doorway, as if she had been listening from down the hall.

He didn't even need to speak.

"You got in," she said, stepping in. "Of course you did."

He nodded once.

She walked up to him, hugged him tightly—too tightly.

"This changes everything," she whispered. "You've won, Liam. You've won."

But Liam didn't say anything. The room was quiet. A little too quiet for a victory.

Across town, Laura was sitting at the breakfast bar, laptop in front of her, eyes bloodshot from staying up all night.

She refreshed her admissions portal.

Then again.

And then—

It appeared.

Accepted.

She let out a sharp, triumphant gasp. Her mother looked up from her newspaper.

"You got in?"

Laura turned the screen around.

"Stoxford," she said. "Same as Ethan. And Liam."

She smiled like it was already written — that this was exactly how it was always meant to be.

At the Harrisons, Iva sat cross-legged on her couch, one hand buried in a bowl of cereal. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Email notification.

She nearly spilled her cereal.

She reached for it, opened the app, clicked on the message from Briar University.

And stared.

Then blinked.

Then slapped a hand over her mouth.

Her mother called from the kitchen, "Everything okay?"

Iva laughed — a breathless, stunned, bubbling kind of laugh.

"I got in, Mum! Briar said yes!"

Her mother dropped the dish she was washing.

Iva leaned back on the couch, eyes wide, chest full. The future was no longer a maybe. It had just knocked on her door and said, Let's go.

All four of them had been waiting.

Now they had all been answered.

But what none of them knew yet was this: the acceptance was just the beginning.

Just days after Ethan and Liam's admission into the prestigious university, the media caught wind of the news—and chaos followed.

Photos of both boys—one looking calm and assured, the other sharp-eyed and quietly defiant—were plastered across national headlines. The Richardson name, already powerful, made the news cycle feel more like a royal coronation.

"Richardson Legacy Continues: Liam and Ethan Begin Their University Journey."

"Double Admission! Twin Success or Brewing Rivalry?"

"Richardson Brothers: The Future of a Dynasty?"

But what should have been a moment of quiet celebration quickly turned into a public spectacle, fueled by carefully planted narratives.

Anna, ever strategic, saw an opportunity—and seized it.

She reached out to Otto's magazine, a top-tier society outlet known for flattering those who could pay. With a generous check and editorial control, she commissioned a glowing feature about Liam. The headline was bold and deliberate:

"The Crown Prince of Richardson: Why Liam Is Poised to Lead."

The article downplayed Ethan entirely—referring to him vaguely as "the younger Richardson sibling"—and instead poured admiration on Liam's achievements, elegance, and "innate sense of leadership." A full-page spread showed Liam on campus, posing confidently by the university gates, while Ethan was conveniently cropped out of every photo.

The article closed with a quote from an anonymous source—planted, of course, by Anna herself:

"There's something regal about Liam. He doesn't just belong at the university—he belongs at the top."

The effect was instant. Society pages, online blogs, even alumni forums buzzed with talk about Liam. Ethan, though equally admitted, was relegated to the background in the public imagination.

*********

Stephanie summoned Anna to her private sitting room the moment she finished reading the Otto magazine feature. The article had Anna's scent all over it—exaggerated praise, curated quotes, selective cropping of Ethan. It was far too calculated to be coincidence.

Anna walked in with a composed smile, her heels clicking lightly against the marble floor, but her shoulders were a touch too stiff. She knew what was coming.

Stephanie didn't waste time.

"Did you pay Otto's magazine to spin that story?"

Anna blinked, feigning innocence. "Of course not. I have no control over what the media chooses to publish."

Stephanie's eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me, Anna."

"I'm not lying," Anna said, voice calm but tight. "The press noticed Liam. He's—charismatic. It's natural they'd want to feature him."

Stephanie stared at her, long and hard, as if stripping the layers off her poise one by one. Anna held her ground, but her hands remained clasped a little too tightly in front of her. She feared Stephanie—not openly, but in that quiet, instinctive way a schemer fears the one person they cannot outmaneuver.

"You're playing with fire," Stephanie said coldly. "Don't test me."

Anna offered a tight smile and curtsied slightly before slipping out of the room. She didn't dare stay longer.

That night, in the privacy of their bedroom, Stephanie paced the floor, her fury quiet but seething.

"She thinks she can rewrite the truth. She thinks she can erase Ethan," she muttered. "I'll corner her. I'll make her confess publicly. She won't get away with this."

But Henry, seated at the edge of the bed, looked up at her with weariness and deep conviction. "Let it go, Steph."

She turned sharply. "Let it go?"

"Yes." He stood and walked over to her. "Ethan doesn't need the spotlight to shine. He is the light. Anna can manipulate all the cameras she wants—Ethan's glow doesn't come from her approval. Or anyone's."

Stephanie paused, jaw tight. Her hands slowly unclenched.

Henry gently touched her shoulder. "Our boy doesn't even care about the headlines. Don't fight a shadow war for him when he's walking in the sun."

And Henry was right.

Ethan hadn't even opened the magazine.

While the rest of the household whispered about the headlines and the cover story, he was out on the campus lawn with his new made friends, laughing over a physics problem. The breeze ran through his curls, his voice steady, eyes bright. No bitterness. No anger.

He hadn't come to university to compete with Liam.

He had come to become someone of his own.