The night deepened over the Vellaria estate. The chandelier in Aster Vellaria's study flickered softly, casting golden light across the old portraits that lined the walls — each frame holding a piece of a dynasty built with both brilliance and blood.
Aster sat by the grand mahogany desk, a cup of tea untouched beside her. She had dismissed all the servants hours ago. The house was silent, save for the ticking of the antique clock and the soft hum of the wind brushing against the curtains.
The old matriarch's fingers traced the edge of a photograph — one that never failed to reopen old wounds. It was a family portrait, taken almost thirty years ago: Aurora and Catleya, her two daughters, smiling under the sun. Lincoln and Ledger Velmore stood beside them, dashing in their crisp suits. And in front, two boys barely a year apart — Lucian and Caelum — laughing together, unaware of the cruel twist that awaited them.
Aster's eyes glistened as she whispered to the empty room, "History repeats itself… always."
She leaned back on her chair, memories flooding like an unstoppable tide.
---
Back then, the Vellarias ruled the northern territories — their wealth rooted in technology, mining, and steel. The Velmores, on the other hand, dominated the south and southeast, a lineage of old money and influence woven deeply into politics. For years, the two clans had kept cordial distance, bound by respect but divided by ambition.
Until her firstborn daughter, Aurora Vellaria, crossed paths with a Velmore.
Aurora was the crown jewel of the north — vibrant, mischievous, adored by society. Parties, laughter, and champagne had been her world. Aster had always wished she would settle down, but Aurora's spirit was untamable, a flicker of light that refused to dim.
During one of those extravagant galas in the capital, Aurora met Lincoln Velmore, heir to the Velmore empire. He was the epitome of refinement — tall, commanding, with a gaze that could freeze a room. To everyone, their meeting seemed destined.
But fate had other plans.
Aurora, despite Lincoln's persistent courtship, fell in love with another — Ledger Velmore, Lincoln's younger brother. Ledger was the opposite of Lincoln — carefree, kind, a man who painted his life in laughter and music rather than rules and deals. Aurora adored that about him.
When Lincoln discovered his younger brother had won Aurora's heart, something inside him cracked. Betrayal and pride burned through him like poison. The Velmore heir was not used to rejection — especially not by someone he had chosen.
To spite them both, Lincoln turned his gaze elsewhere — to Catleya Vellaria, Aurora's younger sister.
Catleya was everything Aurora wasn't: composed, intelligent, and quiet. While Aurora chased excitement, Catleya built foundations — the true spine of the Vellaria empire. Aster had always relied on her.
So when Lincoln approached with a marriage proposal to Catleya, Aster's immediate instinct was refusal. "You will not use my daughter as a pawn," she had told him coldly.
But destiny, cruel as it was, had cornered her.
At that time, the Vellaria's northern operations were collapsing under political pressure. Contracts in the southeast were falling through, and bankruptcy loomed like a ghost. Lincoln's proposal came not only with the promise of alliance, but salvation.
Catleya understood before anyone else. She knew her marriage could save the family — even if it meant sacrificing her heart.
"I will do it," Catleya had told her mother softly. "If this is what it takes to protect the family name, then so be it."
Aster never forgot the quiet resignation in her daughter's eyes that night.
---
The wedding was lavish but cold. Aurora had refused to attend, hiding away for days in shame and heartbreak. Lincoln, on the other hand, treated his bride like a transaction, offering polite smiles that never reached his eyes.
The early days of their marriage were miserable. The two barely spoke beyond formalities. Yet time has a strange way of softening sharp edges.
Catleya's patience and sincerity slowly thawed Lincoln's bitterness. Her compassion, her intelligence — they were qualities he had never valued before, but slowly began to rely on. And for the first time, the arrogant Velmore heir found solace in someone's silence.
Three years later, Catleya gave birth to Lucian Velmore — a solemn, dark-eyed child who carried both strength and serenity in his tiny hands. Lincoln changed after that. The once prideful man became gentle, devoted, and fiercely protective of his wife and son.
Even Aurora, who had long held resentment toward her sister, softened when she saw them. Her heart still belonged to Ledger, and against all odds, love bloomed again.
Ledger and Aurora married a year later — a union both families had tried to avoid, but love had proven stronger than pride. Aster remembered her laughter during that wedding — a sound that filled the halls like sunlight breaking through clouds.
When Aurora announced her pregnancy, the families finally reconciled. The rift that had once divided them seemed healed.
For years, they lived peacefully — two couples, two brothers, two sisters, and their children growing up side by side. Lucian and Caelum were inseparable, almost like twins, bonded by blood and fate.
Until the night of the tragedy.
---
It had been the annual Vellaria Foundation Gala, the grandest event in the north — a symbol of the family's unity and power. Aurora, Lincoln, Catleya, and Ledger were to fly ahead in a private plane to oversee preparations.
But the plane never reached its destination.
Mid-flight, it disappeared from radar. The wreckage was found hours later, scattered across the frozen northern peaks. There were no survivors.
The news shattered both the Velmore and Vellaria dynasties. Aster collapsed upon hearing it, while Victoria Velmore, Lincoln and Ledger's mother, fell into a grief that aged her overnight.
The two matriarchs — bound by loss — made a pact.
They agreed to divide the families' empires, to protect what was left and prevent greed or resentment from tearing the children apart.
Lucian, son of Lincoln and Catleya, would inherit the Velmore legacy.
Caelum, son of Aurora and Ledger, would inherit the Vellaria estates.
The decision was logical. But it came at a cost.
The two boys, once inseparable, were raised in different worlds — Lucian under Victoria's strict eye, molded into a cold, disciplined heir; Caelum under Aster's gentler but equally demanding guidance, groomed to lead the north.
As they grew, distance replaced brotherhood. And now, years later, Aster watched history loop back upon itself.
---
She stood and walked toward the grand window overlooking the gardens. The moon hung low, its light spilling like silver tears on the marble floor.
"Love," she murmured bitterly, "has never been kind to us."
She thought of Aurora — who loved too freely and lost too young. Of Catleya — who married for duty but found love only to have it stolen away.
And now, Lucian and Caelum — two men, both brilliant, both haunted — standing on opposite sides of the same heartbreak.
"Why must you two inherit not our fortune, but our curse?" she whispered.
The old woman turned to the portrait above the fireplace — a painting of her daughters side by side. Aurora's lively smile and Catleya's serene eyes seemed almost alive under the flickering candlelight.
Aster's chest tightened painfully. "If only you were here," she said softly, voice trembling. "You'd know what to do. Your sons are repeating your sins — and I, once again, must choose between them."
She sank back into her chair, exhaustion settling in her bones. Her mind drifted between past and present — between the daughters she lost and the grandsons who carried their shadows.
Lucian, proud and distant, just like Lincoln.
Caelum, passionate and kind, like Ledger.
And Caliste — a woman who unknowingly became the center of another Vellaria-Velmore storm.
The parallels were cruel. Too cruel.
Aster reached for the locket that hung from her neck — a tiny relic that contained the photo of her two daughters. She clutched it tightly.
"History repeats itself," she whispered again. "And if I don't stop it now… it will destroy them, too."
Outside, the first light of dawn began to break through the clouds. But to Aster, it did not bring hope — only a reminder that the past was never truly gone.
It simply waited to be reborn.