Chapter 1
After breakfast, she wandered through the house, pausing by the windows, passing rooms that held years of accumulated history. Family portraits. Quiet wealth. Old money that did not announce itself but simply existed, solid and unmovable. She stopped in front of a huge portrait of the first Katvia Group headquarter. A sudden figure appeared beside her.
Her father stopped, hands clasped loosely behind his back. He didn’t look at her first, only at the portrait.
“You’ve seen this more times than you can count,” he said.
Lucia smiled faintly. “You tell the story every time.”
“And you always listen,” he replied. “Even when you pretend you’re bored.”
She exhaled through her nose, conceding the point. A beat passed. Comfortable and familiar.
“How is Denorvan?” he asked, as if asking about the weather.
“Busy,” she said. “Interesting.”
“You don’t need it, you know,” he said gently. Not dismissively. Factually.
Lucia turned to him. “I know.”
He studied her for a moment, the way parents do when they realize their children are already adults. “Then why stay?”
She hesitated, not because she didn’t have an answer, but because it was one she did not want to say aloud.
“Because there,” she said slowly, “if I do well, it’s mine. Not borrowed. Not inherited.”
There was a pause. Then her father nodded once.
“That’s fair,” he answered. “Just remember that earning your place does not require you to pretend you don’t already have one.”
Her father’s face softened as he touched her arm. “Katvia will still be here. It always is.”
He turned to leave, then paused. “And one day, you won’t be proving yourself to anyone.”
The words landed.
She watched him walk away. One day. She told herself it didn’t matter. That she liked proving herself. It kept things clean and made it feel earned. But still, the words lingered longer than she expected.
Later, she returned to her apartment in the city, the one she claimed as her own which gave her the illusion of independence. During the week, she lived there, commuted like everyone else, worked like everyone else. On weekends, she came home.
The transition always felt natural. No one questioned it. No one insisted she choose.
By mid-afternoon, she was curled on the sofa with her laptop open, reviewing notes from work. This was her world. Work was the one area where she felt the faint thrill of consequences. Where she could measure herself against something external. Where competence mattered more than pedigree.
Tomorrow, there will be a new Chief Executive Officer.
The thought drifted through her mind without anxiety. She had heard the rumors weeks ago, of course. When leadership shifted at this level, the entire industry speculated. The press would announce it soon enough, if it hadn’t already. She had not bothered to check.
She closed her laptop and leaned back. A new boss meant adjustments. Expectations. Meetings that mattered.
Good.
That was all she needed to care about.
