Chapter 7: The Day of Reckoning
Kian's 18th birthday arrived like a shadow—silent, inevitable, and entirely unwelcome.
The mansion buzzed with activity, servants rushing through the corridors, placing delicate flowers, adjusting lights, and ensuring that everything was perfect for the event. The grand hall was already alive with the shimmer of opulence—crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, golden accents, and the scent of expensive perfumes filling the air. It was a spectacle, a show of wealth and power, all to honor the birth of the heir to the Fenix empire.
But Kian had never wanted to be the heir.
He had no desire to stand at the head of his father's empire, no wish to claim the throne that the world believed was rightfully his. He had always known he could take it, if he ever chose to. His intellect, his power, his presence—he was more than capable of leading the empire. But he didn't want it. And so, it had always been his older brother Dmitri, the one born out of lies, the one whom the world saw as the firstborn, the heir.
The world believed in Dmitri's birthright, but they also knew the truth: Kian was the better choice. It had always been that way. Even Dmitri knew it, though his pride would never allow him to admit it.
Kian didn't resent Dmitri for the position he had been forced into. He loved his older brother, and he had always wanted nothing more than for Dmitri to be happy. If Dmitri wanted the crown, the power, Kian would step aside. He had never cared about it. He would remain in the shadows, the silent force behind the curtain, the one who did not need a title to command the world.
As Kian stood before the mirror, he barely recognized the man who stared back at him. Tall, composed, his blond hair swept neatly back, his sharp features striking even in their simplicity. His eyes—dark, piercing, full of secrets—held no emotion, no desire. Not today. Today, he would play the part, as he always did. The perfect son. The perfect heir.
But inside, Kian felt nothing but detachment. The only thing that mattered to him today was the smile he would wear. The mask he would don for the world. His father's expectations hung heavy on him, as always. Thaddeus Fenix was a man who demanded perfection from everyone—including his only son.
The door opened, and a servant entered, her presence a soft interruption to his thoughts.
"Mr. Fenix, it's time," she said in a gentle tone, though her words carried the weight of expectation. "The guests are arriving. Your father is waiting for you in the hall."
Kian didn't respond immediately. He only nodded once, acknowledging her presence. His mind was elsewhere—far from the pomp and circumstance that awaited him. He wasn't interested in the guests, the celebrations, the endless parade of power and prestige. He was interested in none of it. Not today.
He didn't even want to be there.
But he had to be.
He had no choice.
With a final look at his reflection, Kian straightened his suit, adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, and stepped out of the room. As he walked down the corridor, the sounds of the house grew louder, the clinking of glasses, the hum of conversation, the flutter of excited laughter—it all felt so distant, as though it belonged to another world entirely.
At the end of the hall, his father stood, waiting. Thaddeus Fenix was a towering figure, every inch of him radiating power. But it wasn't the power that Kian felt when he looked at him—it was the coldness. The expectations. The relentless drive to prove that everything was perfect, even when Kian knew it never would be.
"Are you ready for your day?" Thaddeus asked, his voice deep, steady, and so perfectly composed.
Kian didn't answer right away. Instead, he simply walked past his father, who didn't seem to notice the coldness in Kian's silence. Thaddeus had never been one for conversation when there was a task at hand.
Dmitri stood beside their father, his presence tense, his jaw set tight as though he were about to face a battle. He was the public heir, the one whom everyone believed would one day take the throne. But Kian knew what Dmitri could never admit: He had never been meant for this role. Kian had always been the true successor, but he had never wanted it. Dmitri was stuck in a position he had fought for, but it was a position that, deep down, he knew he would never truly fill.
The tension between the two brothers was palpable. Dmitri's eyes flickered toward Kian, dark and filled with resentment. Kian's gaze remained impassive, cool, as it always did. He knew Dmitri hated him, but he couldn't bring himself to hate him back. Not even after everything. Kian wanted nothing more than for Dmitri to find peace, to be happy in whatever role life had given him. But he couldn't change the way Dmitri saw him—couldn't change the animosity that had built up over the years.
Today wasn't about them. Today wasn't about Kian, either. It was about fulfilling an expectation.
And as Kian made his way down the hall, toward the grand ballroom, he could feel the eyes of the world on him.
It was a day like any other, he thought.
But something felt different.