Ellen’s POV
As I entered the grand foyer of our family estate, my frustration and anger were evident. The foyer, with its exquisite marble floors and towering columns culminating in a magnificent chandelier, stretched before me.
"Why are you crawling behind me like a disfigured snail?!" I yelled at Ava, my assistant.
She hurried to my side. I gave her a withering look and, with a flick of my wrist, tossed my bags into her waiting arms, confident she would handle them with care.
I proceeded into the mansion.
"Fetch me some water," I snapped at a housekeeper, my tone sharp.
The maid quickly obeyed, returning with a crystal glass of water. Her weariness was apparent.
"Why do you look like an old hag?" I sneered.
The maid’s expression faltered, but she remained composed, presenting the glass. Ignoring her, I snatched the water, took a long sip, and returned the empty glass.
"Never mind," I dismissed her. "Just take this and leave."
I ascended the grand staircase, each step a testament to our wealth and power. Reaching my lavish room, I prepared for the family dinner.
I hope this fucking goes well.
Entering my elegantly decorated room, a sense of comfort washed over me. Plush furnishings and delicate accents adorned every corner, bathed in the soft glow of the crystal chandelier.
As I dropped my purse on the dresser, I examined a small photograph inside. Anger resurfaced. I almost crumpled it, but I hesitated; I needed it to find the culprits.
I considered telling my family, but pragmatism prevailed, and I returned the picture to my purse.
After freshening up, I felt poised and composed. I slipped into a sleek black dress, accented with tasteful embellishments, paired with elegant heels and minimal jewelry.
Perfect.
With a final glance in the mirror, I descended to the dining room.
"Where have you been, you spoiled brat?" my brother Gabriel's voice cut through the silence. "We've been waiting for you."
His disdain fueled my anger. "I've had enough of your blabbering, Gabriel," I retorted. "I don't need your judgment."
"What the fuck?!" Gabriel yelled, his face contorted with anger.
Before the quarrel escalated, Liz intervened. "Enough," she commanded. "Can we have some peace and quiet? Every time we're together, can you act decently?"
"Tell that to Ellen," Gabriel retorted.
I swallowed my anger as our parents entered, their grim expressions familiar. Our family, once a bastion of wealth and influence, was teetering on the brink of ruin. The press persecution had increased the tension between my parents.
I glanced at my mother's worried brow and my father's dulled demeanor. What had happened to our family? Had Grandma Monica’s death truly been the catalyst? Everyone seemed self-interested.
Gabriel, with his reckless lifestyle, only exacerbated the tension. Liz, however, remained seemingly unaffected.
Hopefully she doesn’t get affected.
Lost in thought, I barely noticed my parents settling into their seats. My polite greeting to my father went unanswered.
What was I expecting from a man who would rather eat toad than acknowledge anybody?
"Let's get straight to the point," he began, his voice heavy with resignation. "The Manor family business is in trouble. Our stocks are plummeting, and investors are restless."
Liz voiced her concern about her upcoming fight. "Dad, what about my match on Saturday? I can't afford to be affected by this."
"It won't be," he declared. "You must win at all costs. Our family's reputation depends on it."
Liz sighed in relief.
"The investors are threatening to pull out. They only trust Grandma Monica, and since her will hasn't been read, they trust no one. It would have been better if the will had been read; then they would have trusted whoever Grandma Monica appointed," my father explained, his weariness evident.
"What about you, Ellen?" he asked, his voice laced with disappointment. "We need to boost our public image, and your concert could be our saving grace."
Damn it! I thought I'd escape that.