Silence.

The Conference room…

An uneasy hush settled over the conference room, brittle as glass. No one dared disturb it.

“I never expected such negligence from my own employees,” she said evenly, her voice calm, far more unsettling than anger.

Several shifted in their seats. One discreetly wiped his forehead.

“Lost your words?” she asked, her gaze sweeping across the table.

“Not at all, Ma’am. We apologize for the oversight. It will not happen again,” the manager replied, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

She leaned back slightly.

“An apology does not correct what has already been damaged,” she said. “What concerns me is that this mistake should never have occurred in the first place.”

Silence followed. No one met her eyes.

“Submit a full report by tomorrow morning,” she continued. “And ensure this is the last time I address such carelessness.”

A pause.

“Everyone. Out.”

The chairs shifted softly. Papers were gathered. The employees left without another word.

When the door closed, she exhaled — not loudly, but slowly, as if releasing something tightly held.

Her fingers pressed lightly against her temple. For a moment, her composure slipped, not in rage, but in exhaustion.

“Careless,” she murmured under her breath. She cradled her forehead in both hands, closing her eyes as if to quiet the storm within.

Beyond the conference room, she moved through the hallway. Those who lingered there paused, lowering their heads in quiet respect. The company felt immense, its furniture dwarfed by the expanse of glass windows. As she approached the threshold, bodyguards lined both sides of it. Her car waited at the entrance, and one of them stepped forward to open the door respectfully. She lowered herself into the vehicle, the driver still waiting for her nod before turning the keys. The engine rumbled to life, and she leaned back, her head sinking against the seat, and closed her eyes…

“Mr Anderson’s House.” Her voice carried a hard edge, and the driver nodded quickly, his glance flicking to her in the rearview mirror as her eyes remained shut…

A black car rolled through the gates of the mansion. The lawn lay quiet at its center, lush with fresh grass and dotted with fragile blooms. Inside, the chandelier shimmered softly above the lounge, where voices mingled with laughter and conversation. Anna moved past them, her heels whispering against the marble floor as she placed her foot on the first step.

“Anna. Rarely home these days,” her cousin remarked, sarcasm thinly veiled. She paused, glancing over her shoulder.

“Unlike some, I have responsibilities.”

She resumed climbing. “Anna!” Mr. Anderson’s voice carried authority. “Is that how you speak to family? He was concerned.” She turned slowly this time. “Concern is shown in actions, not commentary,” she replied evenly. “And I don’t recall being consulted about expectations.”

“Mind your tone,” the elderly woman snapped. “Have you forgotten your manners?”

Anna’s expression didn’t change. “Manners are mutual,” she said.

A voice from the sofa cut through the air.

“Do you need reminding how you entered this house?”

The room stilled.

Anna’s grip tightened on the railing, though her face remained composed.

“Or are you just like your mother?” the woman pressed.

For the first time, Anna’s eyes shifted — not in anger, but something colder.

Before she could respond, Mr. Anderson intervened sharply.

“Enough. Do not speak of my late wife that way. Nor to my beloved daughter.”

Beloved daughter. The words coursed through her veins like disgust.

For the briefest second, something flickered across Anna’s face — not warmth, not pride, but something unreadable. She turned without another word and continued up the stairs.

“I heard your shares dropped,” her cousin added casually. “Employee negligence, wasn’t it?”

She stopped. Then, she continued walking.

Anna stepped into her room and closed the door behind her. Only then did she release the breath she had been holding for what felt like an eternity—a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.

She walked toward her desk, opened her laptop, and slipped her Bluetooth earbuds into her ears.

“Hello. Find out every detail about this mess,” she said, her voice low and controlled. “It can't simply be employee negligence. Someone is behind this.”

A voice came through the earbuds. “Sure. But how are you so certain someone is behind it?”

Anna leaned back in her leather chair, her eyes narrowing.

“Why wouldn't I be?” she replied. “We've gone years without anything like this happening. And now, suddenly, this?”

She paused, her fingers tapping lightly against the armrest.

“Doesn't that seem strange to you? Why would someone deliberately leak something if they had nothing to gain from it?”

A slight smirk appeared on her lips.

“There’s always someone who benefits.” 

On the other end of the call, the voice replied, “Then what’s the point of delaying it? I’ll share it as soon as possible.”

The call ended.

Anna rested her elbows on the armrests, bringing her fingers together as she slowly swung the chair from left to right and back again.

Her right index finger tapped lightly against the other.

She was deep in thought when— Knock. Knock.

The sudden sound pulled her out of her thoughts. Anna's brows furrowed slightly as she turned toward the door. Before she could say anything, the door opened. A teenage boy stepped inside.

He looked slightly nervous as he entered fully and quietly closed the door behind him.

Anna raised an eyebrow.

His head remained lowered as though he was debating whether to say something or keep it to himself.

Seeing his hesitation, Anna smiled faintly.

“You can say whatever is on your mind. It’s not like this is your first time talking to me—and your beloved family members aren't here to intimidate you.”

With a suspicious look, he asked, “Aren’t you angry about what they said? I mean—”

Before he could finish, Anna interrupted.

“Do you really think that would affect me?” she asked, making a slightly dramatic face. “I know whatever they say is full of poison. All they know how to do is spit it.”

The boy's mouth formed a small O.

“Oh.”

But suddenly, his expression became serious. He sat upright and looked at her.

“So… do you hate me too? Because they always spit poison, and I’m their son?”

Anna's expression immediately turned serious.

“Of course.”

The boy leaned back against the headboard, his lips forming a pout.

“I thought you'd say that you do hate me.” A smile slowly formed on Anna's face. The boy glanced toward her.

She was already smiling.

A second later, he jumped off the bed and wrapped his arms around her, as though he had been waiting for that moment for a long time.

“I thought you started to like me,” he mumbled against her shoulder. “But no. You still hate me… just like I hate you.”

Anna chuckled.

“You know how much I miss you when you're not here,” he continued. “I used to listen to them talk about you and say all those horrible things. But I couldn't defend you. I couldn't say anything.”

Anna's expression softened.

“It's alright, little brother. At least you thought about defending me.”

She gently patted his head.

“But I would've felt bad if you had stood up for me in front of them.”

After a few seconds, they pulled apart.

Henry folded his arms across his chest, wearing an expression of exaggerated disappointment. Anna stared at him in confusion.

“Why are you angry now?”

“Because you don't have time for your little Henry anymore,” he complained in a grumpy voice. “You've been busy with work ever since you came back from abroad.”

Anna raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, oh… how terrible of me. I didn't have time for my little Henry.”

She paused dramatically.

“How about tomorrow's lunch? My treat. We can spend the day together, just like before.”

A hint of happiness appeared in Henry's eyes, but he quickly tried to hide it.

“Okay. Deal!”

He pointed at her.

“But I'll be there on time.”

Anna laughed softly.

“Good.”

With that, Henry finally left the room, his earlier sadness completely forgotten.

As he left, Anna's smile slowly disappeared.

She turned back toward her laptop and clicked on the file that had just been sent by the person she'd spoken to a few minutes earlier.

Her eyes moved across the screen.

Whatever she saw made her expression turn serious.

Anna Anderson, twenty-six, had returned from abroad a year earlier and taken control of Velora Group with a precision that unsettled even seasoned executives.

Her father, Mr. Anderson, head of Oblivara Corp, had long since remarried. The mansion she had returned to was no longer the home she once knew.

Luna Williams, now Mrs. Luna Anderson—also known as Suzi—moved through the household with practiced authority. Her sixteen-year-old son, Henry, quietly observed the tensions that threaded through every family gathering.