Williams Mansion — Natalie's Room
Natalie paced the length of her room, her arms folded tightly across her chest, frustration twisting her features. The soft glow of the bedside lamp did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside her.
"That uncouth girl wants to take my place in this house," she snapped, her voice sharp with bitterness.
Samy sat calmly on the edge of the bed, watching her daughter with practiced ease.
"Impossible," she said smoothly. "You'll always be the one everyone adores."
Natalie scoffed. "Then why do they treat her like a queen just because her parents died?" Her hands clenched into fists. "It's disgusting."
"Don't worry," Samy replied, rising and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'll make sure you remain the most beloved granddaughter in this family."
Natalie stopped pacing. Her eyes darkened.
"She's too proud. Too full of herself. And yet Grandma, Grandpa—even Dad—can't stop hovering around her."
Samy's lips curved into a thin, knowing smile.
"I'll find a way to tarnish her image. Subtly."
Natalie exhaled, tension still coiled in her chest. "You better. Her presence irritates me. Every time I see her, it feels like she's stealing something that belongs to me."
Samy tilted Natalie's chin upward gently.
"Calm down. For now, you mustn't show any sign of dislike. Smile. Be kind. Let them believe you're welcoming."
Natalie hesitated, then nodded.
"…Okay, Mom."
Samy leaned down and kissed her forehead.
"Good girl. See you tomorrow. Good night."
She turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Natalie remained still, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips slowly curved into a tight smile—one that never reached her eyes.
Beneath the calm surface, something dark had begun to grow.
And once resentment takes root, it never stays small.