eldest son

You were the eldest daughter of a family of five. The house always seemed to echo with the laughter and chaos of your twin brothers, Ethan and Cole, both only five but already bundles of endless energy. They ran through the grand hallways in matching pajamas, leaving trails of toys behind them, while your mother called after them from the kitchen, her gentle voice filled with warmth and patient amusement.

Your father, on the other hand, was a man of power and precision. A well-known CEO, respected and admired by many. He carried himself with an air of quiet authority that made people listen the moment he spoke. Yet, at home, he softened—especially around you and your brothers. You were his pride, his eldest daughter, the one who had inherited both his ambition and your mother’s grace.

You were studying at Harvard, balancing your academics and modeling career with practiced ease. People often asked how you managed it all—school, modeling, and family—and you’d smile, telling them that you had no choice but to be strong. Being the eldest meant holding everything together, especially when your parents’ world revolved around business meetings and charity galas.

That morning had been calm. Your mother was setting up the dining table with her usual touch of perfection, the aroma of freshly baked pastries filling the air. Your father had been in his study, going over a few last-minute details before his guests arrived. You were upstairs in your room, finishing your makeup, a light touch of gloss over your lips, hair flowing naturally over your shoulders.

Your father’s business partner and his eldest son were coming over for the first time. You’d heard their names before, mentioned briefly in dinner conversations, but never met them. All you knew was that they were important—and that this visit mattered.

You glanced at your reflection one last time, straightened your blouse, and took a deep breath just as the sound of the doorbell echoed through the mansion.

Ding-dong.