The Cuthbert estate buzzed with tension on Sunday morning. The usually serene atmosphere was shattered by Lizzie’s outburst.

“How could she turn this around?” Lizzie shouted, her face flushed with anger. “Kaye has everyone feeling sorry for her now!”

Aaron’s expression was one of barely controlled fury. “I told you not to mess with Kaye. She’s Wiley’s sister, and you’ve broken one of the group’s core rules—our pranks and lessons never apply to each other.”

Lizzie crossed her arms, defiant. “She deserved it. Always acting like she’s better than us.”

Liv stood off to the side, her cold shoulder towards her sister speaking volumes. She hadn’t said much since the scandal broke, but her disappointment in Lizzie was clear.

The tension in the room was palpable, each word a sharp dagger aimed at already frayed nerves. The somber, gloomy decor of the house only added to the heavy atmosphere. The dark, sulky furniture cast long shadows in the dim light, the heavy drapes blocking out much of the morning sun. It was a place that perfectly depicted the absence of parental guidance—a hollow shell that echoed with emptiness and sadness.

Just then, the door opened, and Antonio Cuthbert walked in, the sound of his footstep an alarm to his children, who knew his presence would cast a shadow on the household during his stay. His presence commanded attention, a strict and authoritative figure in their lives. This was the first time they’d seen their father in over three months -there was slight changes in his appearance, his hair was starting to turn gray and his eyes looked darker than before. He had gained some weight, evident by his muscled bi-ceps outlined, by the white collared shirt he wore and his broader shoulders. His presence more intimidating than it had been before.

“What is this dreadful silence!?” Antonio’s voice echoed through the room. “Are you not happy to see me?”

“Daddy!” Lizzie exclaimed, her sharp girlie voice echoing in the somber room as her anger momentarily subdued by his presence. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

Liv managed a stiff nod. “Hello, Father, quite the surprise. I assume you’ve come for the first even of the year.”

A smile of pride spread across his face at Liv’s words. He was always impressed by his daughter’s ability to know him so well, “You certainly know me. I can’t miss the High Society Gala, the re-election for mayor will be announced that night and I intend to run.”

Lizzie jumped up and down, clapping her hand at this news. “That means you’re not leaving us again.” Lizzie hugged her father; it was the best news in her time of array.

Antonio’s gaze shifted to Aaron, his expression hardening. “Aaron, I’m delighted to see you. Although, I hope, there are no grievances in my time of absence. I need this campaign to go smoothly if I’m going to compete against Harold Archer.”

Aaron stiffened, meeting Antonio’s gaze with a hint of defiance. “No sir, there have been none, we’ve all been well behaved and—”

“Save it,” Antonio interrupted, his tone cool. “We will discuss this later.”

Lizzie had always loved her father and since they were small children, he could do no wrong in her eyes. He treated her preciously and she would always try to justify his horrific actions toward her mother or Aaron. In their recent teen years, she was less coddled and tried to compete with her sister for her father’s affection, although Liv had not much given him the satisfaction of making him, her universe.

Liv has always had a deep seeded caring nature towards her siblings, it came naturally out of the obligation as the second born triplet and first daughter to the Cuthberts. Even at the age of ten years, she understood her role in the family when she saw the people from Riverton Springs Mental Health Centre, drag her mother from her room that night. She knew by the screams of her mother, that she would become the glue to keeping the household intact, making sure the chef understood her siblings’ allergies, her father’s preferences, the maids their duties and which rooms not to go into. Aaron was forced to grow up before his time, because of the abuse only he endured over the years and Liv, at the realization that she would have to fill the shoes of her becoming a caretaker to her family. Lizzie suffered no significant damages, having her siblings pave a smooth path before her, allowed her to be a child in those years and perhaps because of this, she still felt no repercussions for her immature behaviour.

Aaron wasn’t enthusiastic to see his father but hid it well, fearing a backhand through the face for any sign of bad manners. Antonio had always been harsh and ready to snap at him whenever his sisters slipped up. His father’s return home sparked fear in Aaron, especially with Lizzie’s past actions and her inability to avoid causing drama.

Liv’s resentment towards her father ran deep, festering like an open wound. She harboured strong feelings of tolerance for him, masking her true emotions to avoid his wrath. She couldn’t forget what he did to her mother, how he treated Aaron like a punching bag. The thought of ending up like her mother, or worse, seeing Aaron suffer more, kept her quiet and compliant.

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Antonio’s presence cast a long shadow over the room. Liv’s mind flashed back to the times she had witnessed her father’s harshness. The nights her mother cried; the bruises Aaron tried to hide. The fear she felt was a constant companion, a reminder of the precariousness of their situation.

Aaron’s silence spoke volumes. He wasn’t happy to see his father. The memories of past beatings haunted him—the time Antonio had broken his jaw when he was just a child was a stark reminder of his father’s unpredictable wrath. Aaron felt like he was constantly walking on eggshells, living in fear under his father’s intimidatingly scary shadow. His sense of peace was gone and his anxiety heightened, knowing at any given moment, Antonio could snap without a reason.

Antonio’s presence loomed large in the dimly lit room. “Aaron, come to my study,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for defiance. Aaron’s heart sank -the moment he dreaded but knew was evident, and Liv’s eyes widened with alarm. They both knew what could unfold behind those closed doors.

As Aaron followed his father, Liv turned to Lizzie, who was still sulking about her unsuccessful attempt to bring Kaye down. “Lizzie, you need to think about what your actions mean for Aaron. Dad's not going to be happy when he finds out about your misdealing. You have to start behaving yourself, your impulse to act out of that jealous nature of yours, could cause him this election and could have terrible consequences for Aaron, physically.”

Lizzie’s eyes flashed with defiance, but a flicker of doubt crossed her face. She knew Liv was right, but admitting it was a different matter.

Aaron’s steps were heavy as he entered the study. The room was dark, the heavy curtains drawn tight. Antonio’s desk was cluttered with papers, a testament to the chaotic nature of his business dealings.

“Sit,” Antonio commanded, pointing to a chair opposite his desk.

Aaron sat down, his back stiff and his hands clenched tightly in his lap. Antonio looked him over, his expression a mix of disdain and expectation.

“Bring me up to speed on the business,” Antonio said, leaning back in his chair.

Aaron took a deep breath and began to speak, detailing the latest developments and financial standings of their enterprises. He did it flawlessly, despite the tension thrumming through his veins. Antonio nodded occasionally, his expression inscrutable.

When Aaron finished, Antonio’s gaze narrowed. “Is there anything I should know about? Anything that happened in town that would have a negative impact on our business or family’s power?”

Aaron hesitated. The weight of the knowledge he held pressed down on him. “There’s a new family in town. They live in the House of the Phoenix.”

Antonio’s eyes sharpened. “Go on.”

Aaron licked his lips nervously. “They’re the Burcharts.”

The name seemed to hit Antonio like a physical blow. His face paled, and for a moment, he looked genuinely shaken. “The Burcharts?” he repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yes,” Aaron confirmed, watching his father’s reaction closely. This reminded Aaron of the letters he and Liv had found in the private study—letters that linked their father to the Burcharts and hinted at an unknown connection to the Ferruchi family.

Antonio recovered quickly, his expression hardening once more. “Do you know what this means?”

Aaron shook his head, the fear and curiosity swirling in his mind. “No, Father. I don’t.”

Antonio leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Aaron’s. “It means that we have to be very careful. Keep an eye on them. Report anything unusual to me immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father,” Aaron replied, his mind racing with questions. What was the connection between their family and the Burcharts? And how did the Ferruchi family fit into all of this?

As Antonio dismissed him, Aaron felt a chill run down his spine. He left the study, the weight of his father’s expectations and the mystery of their family’s secrets pressing down on him.

Victor Burchart, formerly known as Victor Ferucchi, stood in the dimly lit Hall of Ancestors, located in the private east wing of his sprawling mansion. The walls were lined with portraits of his forebears, their stern faces seeming to watch him with a mix of pride and expectation. The air was thick with history, the weight of his heritage pressing down on him.

He traced the edges of an old portrait with his fingers, the image of his father, Matteo Ferucchi, staring back at him. The memories of his past life flooded his mind—growing up as the eldest son of the powerful Ferucchi family, the weight of expectations, and the fierce loyalty he felt toward his kin.

Victor’s thoughts drifted to the day everything changed. The Ferucchi family had been targeted by rival founding families, determined to erase their influence and claim their power. He had lost everything—his parents, his siblings, his home. But he had survived, and he had vowed to rebuild.

He glanced at a newer portrait, this one of his current family: his wife, Beatrice, and their children. A sense of fierce determination washed over him. He had sworn to keep them safe, to protect them from the darkness that had claimed his birth family. His political ambitions were part of that promise. He needed to secure power, not just for himself, but for their future.

Victor turned away from the portraits and walked to a nearby window, looking out over the estate. The schemes and machinations of his enemies were never far from his mind. He knew they would stop at nothing to destroy him, just as they had tried to do in the past. But he was ready. He had learned from his past, and he was stronger for it.

He thought about his strategies, the careful alliances he had built, the plans he had set in motion. He was a great father, a loving and devoted husband, but to his enemies, he was a nightmare. His ruthlessness was tempered by a deep sense of obligation and a cunning mind honed by years of navigating treacherous political waters.

Victor’s thoughts wandered to the darker deeds that had secured his current position. He felt no remorse for burying the bodies of those who had crossed him. Each decision, each act of vengeance, was a step towards ensuring his family's safety and reclaiming the power that had been stolen from him.

His past was stained with blood, but it was a necessary sacrifice. He had navigated the shadows with precision, taking out enemies silently and efficiently. Those who had underestimated him had paid the ultimate price. He had learned to move in silence, to strike without warning, leaving no trace of his involvement.

Victor’s mind drifted to the countless times he had outmanoeuvred his adversaries. The political chess game he played required a blend of intellect and ruthlessness. He had forged alliances with those who could be useful and disposed of those who posed a threat. His reputation among the elite was that of a calculating, cold strategist—a man who knew how to wield power effectively and without mercy.

The founding families had tried to destroy him, but they had underestimated the eldest son of the Ferucchi’s. Victor’s resolve was unbreakable, his drive to reclaim his family’s political position in the Chain Islands unwavering.

His motivation was driven by the fact that they had sent those men to his home, claiming to be his former friends. They had assaulted his daughter, stealing her innocence, and that had unleashed something dark within Victor. There was no room for apology or remorse. This act of violence had rekindled the fierce protective instincts and ruthlessness that were his heritage. It made him remember who he truly was and where he came from, forcing his true nature to the surface.

Victor’s heart hardened as he recalled the blood he had spilled in retaliation. The founding families believed they could break him by targeting what he held dear. They were wrong. Each of his enemies had been dealt with swiftly and without mercy -and so he will continue until his family’s position are restored.