At fourteen, Taesha's return to the House of Reeds had been fueled by naive hope. She'd genuinely believed that her biological parents, Serena and Felix, and her five brothers would embrace her with open arms. Instead, she'd been met with a chilling display of indifference and thinly veiled disdain.
The real vs. fake heiress drama had been the catalyst. Willow, the maid's daughter raised as a substitute heir, was treated like a priceless gem, shielded from any criticism and showered with affection.
Taesha, the blood relative, was relegated to the sidelines, her existence acknowledged only because of her lineage – a mere formality. The only warmth she'd received upon her return came from her grandparents, who saw past the family's manufactured drama and offered genuine affection.
The rest of the family treated her as an unwelcome outsider, a constant reminder of their complicated past and Willow's precarious position.
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Four years had passed since that initial reunion, and Taesha now sat in Dove Heaven Restaurant, a haven of opulent luxury where crystal chandeliers dripped like frozen waterfalls and the air hummed with hushed conversations and the clinking of expensive silverware.
She was waiting for Karson, her boyfriend, a man whose charm and good looks were only rivaled by his family's immense wealth and influence. A delicate ruby-red wine swirled in her glass as she took a long, contemplative sip. The taste was exquisite, but a slight frown creased her brow.
Her phone buzzed, shattering the quiet ambiance. It was Yolan Swan, her fiercely loyal best friend. Taesha was an anomaly in high society – breathtakingly beautiful yet emotionally detached, radiating an aura of serene indifference that could quickly shift into a chilling coldness.
Her beauty was a captivating blend of ethereal and dangerous—a rare celestial phenomenon. Her skin was a flawless expanse of pale, snowy white, not sickly but luminous, as if reflecting an inner light.
Thick, dark lashes brushed against each other, framing eyes the color of deep ocean depths – mesmerizing pools that hinted at hidden storms.
Long, wavy raven hair cascaded down her back, reaching past her hips, a silken waterfall of impossible softness. Her legs were slender and long, a model's dream come true, and her fingers were delicate and smooth.
It was a beauty that commanded attention, yet it was tempered by an almost glacial composure. She moved with an effortless grace, radiating an aura of quiet power—a still winter storm waiting to erupt.
Today, she wore a striking black and white ensemble: a black and white skirt paired with a matching crop top.
"Yol, what's up?" Taesha asked, her voice a low murmur, tinged with a slight yawn as she glanced at the untouched food on the table. It was a question delivered without inflection, betraying none of the interest she actually felt.
"You won't believe what I saw! Well, who I saw and who I saw her with!" Yolan exclaimed on the other end of the line, her voice crackling with agitated excitement. Taesha wasn't easily swayed by gossip or drama—she found most social interactions tedious—but Yolan's tone piqued her curiosity.
"Who is it?" Taesha inquired, her gaze drifting towards the panoramic window overlooking the bustling city below.
"Okay, I will tell you! It is that sister of yours, the fake heiress Willow Reed! She just returned from Australia and now she is clinging to your boyfriend, my goodness, you and Karson are almost engaged!" Yolan practically shrieked, a distinct note of outrage coloring her voice.
Taesha's expression didn't change. She remained outwardly calm, a mask of serene indifference firmly in place. But internally, a flicker of something akin to amusement sparked within her.
"What were they doing at the hospital?" Taesha asked, her voice still measured and devoid of emotion. The question was casual, almost detached, as if inquiring about the weather.
"Pregnancy! What else?" Yolan practically sputtered on the other end.
A subtle flash of coldness—barely perceptible even to Yolan—rippled through Taesha's dark eyes. She nodded her head, though Yolan couldn't see it through the phone's speaker. Then, she abruptly ended the call and glanced at the photograph Yolan had likely sent.
Her fingers tightened around the phone, her knuckles turning white as she stared at the image. A slow, almost chilling chuckle escaped her lips—a sound devoid of warmth or mirth.
Two years ago, Willow had dramatically announced her departure from the House of Reeds, claiming she shouldn't be allowed to leech off Taesha's inheritance as a fake heiress.
Of course, the narrative had conveniently shifted to portray Taesha as the villain—the one who had driven Willow away, the one who was selfishly hoarding all the family's wealth and affection. It was a classic manipulation tactic, and Taesha had recognized it instantly.
Taesha understood Willow Reed perfectly—she was a textbook example of a green tea personality, someone who masqueraded as an innocent, virtuous individual while expertly manipulating situations to their advantage. She excelled at shifting blame and portraying herself as the perpetual victim.
Her phone rang again, cutting through her thoughts.
The caller ID displayed Karson.
"Karson, today is our three-year anniversary," Taesha stated, her voice flat and devoid of any celebratory tone. It was a statement of fact, not an expression of sentimentality.
"Willow is back, sick and wants to finish her last year of high school in Hong Kong," Karson said, his voice sounding strained, almost hesitant. There was a subtle defensiveness in his tone that Taesha immediately picked up on.
Taesha remained unnervingly calm, as if the news held no significance whatsoever. She gave no outward indication of surprise or concern.
"Is she really sick? Or is she pregnant?" Taesha asked, her voice laced with an almost clinical detachment.
It was a question phrased with such casual indifference that it could have been about anything—the weather, the price of tea.
"Taesha! Don't be like this—anyway I need to go," Karson retorted, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. He sounded flustered, caught off guard by her lack of reaction.
"Kar, isn't this dress beautiful?" A sickeningly sweet voice, dripping with manufactured innocence, floated from the phone's speaker. It belonged to Willow.
Karson abruptly hung up, severing the connection without a word. Taesha simply waved her hand dismissively towards Jaxson Blackwood, the restaurant's impeccably dressed supervisor. He materialized instantly, his expression neutral and professional.
Jaxson was more than just a supervisor; he was Taesha's right hand, her confidante in the labyrinthine world of Dove Heaven Restaurant and the even more complex world of high society. He knew her moods, anticipated her needs, and executed her commands with silent efficiency.
Dove Heaven Restaurant wasn't just a restaurant; it was a carefully curated experience—a seven-story edifice of mystery and luxury.
Each of the thirteen floors within the restaurant was a unique and immersive world, filled with hidden passages, secret rooms, and bespoke dining experiences. The first two floors were accessible to the general public, but beyond that, a coveted membership was required to unlock the restaurant's true potential.
"Boss," Jaxson began, his voice low and respectful. He didn't need to elaborate; Taesha's expression conveyed everything he needed to know.
Yes, Taesha was the enigmatic founder of this burgeoning food empire—a ten-billion-dollar chain of restaurants that had garnered numerous prestigious awards. What remained unknown to the public, however, was Taesha's ownership—a carefully guarded secret that she fiercely protected.
"Throw the food away," Taesha stated flatly, her gaze fixed on the untouched delicacies before her.
She then closed her phone, the screen going dark. It was only 12:00 pm, barely the start of the afternoon, yet the events of the past hour had already left a distinct taste of bitterness in her mouth. The anniversary dinner with Karson, once anticipated with a detached sense of obligation, now felt like a pointless charade.
Jaxson immediately signaled to the waitstaff, and with swift, silent movements, the elaborate spread was whisked away, replaced by a pristine white tablecloth. Taesha didn't offer an explanation or an apology; she simply expected compliance. And Jaxson, as always, delivered without question.
"Anything else, Boss?" Jaxson inquired, his voice carefully neutral. He stood at attention, awaiting further instructions.
Taesha considered him for a moment, her dark eyes assessing his every nuance.
"No," Taesha said she didn't run this business Jaxson did she only founded and every now and than will come and hand out new menus that's about it.
Taesha gazed out at the sprawling panorama of Hong Kong, the vibrant cityscape shimmering under the bright June sun. It was a picture-perfect day, June 29th to be exact, yet she felt utterly detached from its warmth and vitality. The world outside, with its bustling streets and endless possibilities, held little interest for her. Her passions were far more esoteric, far more personal.