Mira's room was at the far end of the third floor.
It was large—larger than the entire apartment she once shared with her father—but it felt strangely empty. White walls. Tall windows. A bed that looked like it had never been slept in.
"This used to be a guest room," Selene said casually, placing Mira's suitcase near the door. "If you need anything, tell the staff."
She didn't say tell me.
Mira nodded. "Thank you."
Selene hesitated, as if searching for something else to say. When nothing came, she turned and left, her heels echoing down the hallway.
The door closed softly behind her.
Mira stood still for a long moment.
Then she sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled.
This wasn't home.
It was a place she had been placed.
---
Dinner that night felt like a test Mira hadn't studied for.
The dining table was long enough to separate people without effort. Victor sat at the head, calm and distant. Selene beside him, graceful and composed.
Dominic sat opposite Mira.
He didn't speak.
He didn't look away either.
Ariana picked at her food, clearly uninterested, while Liam offered Mira a polite smile.
"So," Liam said gently, breaking the silence, "what school were you attending before?"
Mira answered quietly. "A public school."
Ariana snorted. "Figures."
Selene frowned lightly. "Ariana."
"It's fine," Mira said, lifting her gaze. "I liked it."
Dominic's fork paused mid-air.
For the first time, he looked at her properly—not like an intruder, but like a puzzle.
Victor cleared his throat. "Mira will be transferring schools," he said. "She'll attend Ariana's academy starting next week."
Ariana slammed her fork down. "What?"
"I don't want her there," she snapped. "Everyone will talk."
Mira lowered her eyes.
Selene smiled stiffly. "You'll adjust."
Dominic finally spoke.
"She won't last."
The table went quiet.
Mira looked up slowly. "Excuse me?"
Dominic leaned back in his chair, his expression calm, voice flat. "That school isn't kind to people who don't belong."
Something tightened in Mira's chest.
"I'll manage," she said.
Dominic's eyes darkened slightly.
"We'll see."
---
That night, Mira couldn't sleep.
She wandered into the hallway, drawn by the unfamiliar silence. As she passed the staircase, she heard voices below.
Dominic's voice.
Low. Controlled.
"…I don't care what you think. She's temporary."
Another voice replied, older, amused—but Mira couldn't hear the words clearly.
She froze.
Temporary.
She turned away quietly, returning to her room.
But sleep still didn't come.
Instead, memories did—her father's laughter, the chessboard, the crushed cake on the road.
Mira sat up and pulled the small metal box from her suitcase.
Inside were the savings from her livestreams.
Her safety.
She closed the lid gently.
No matter where she was, one truth remained.
She had survived abandonment before.
She would survive this house too.
Even if Dominic Blackwood watched her like she was a mistake waiting to happen.