The sudden shift in atmosphere was palpable. The joyous warmth of the elders' welcome seemed to dissipate, replaced by a chilling undercurrent of tension. A new presence had entered the room—a young woman shrouded in an air of quiet intensity. She wore a simple sweatshirt and sweatpants, a stark contrast to the opulent surroundings, and a pristine white blindfold concealed her eyes.
Slowly, deliberately, she lifted the blindfold, revealing not eyes, but an absence of sight. Yet, despite the lack of visual perception, her gaze seemed to penetrate the room, assessing every detail with an unnerving accuracy. It was clear that her blindness was not a physical limitation but a carefully chosen facade.
She couldn't believe it. This was it. Rebirth.
Today was the day. The day she had been reborn, the day that mirrored the pivotal moment in her previous life—the day she'd been presented with the choice of which family to reside with. A wave of memories, sharp and vivid, flooded her mind – the suffocating expectations, the constant comparisons, the relentless pursuit of power.
She spent a long moment simply observing her hands, tracing the delicate lines and curves with a newfound appreciation. It was a grounding ritual, a way to anchor herself in this new reality.
Then, she pressed her lips together, a silent vow of resolve hardening her expression. She moved towards the living room, and even without seeing, one could sense an icy detachment radiating from her.
Ekaterina was breathtakingly beautiful—a vision sculpted from moonlight and shadow.
Her long, raven hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, a silken waterfall that reached her hips. Her skin was a flawless expanse of pale ivory, seemingly untouched by the sun. Long, slender legs, smooth and graceful, hinted at a hidden strength.
Even her hands—now resting lightly on Tun Tun—were exquisite, with long, elegant fingers and perfectly manicured nails. She was the epitome of ethereal beauty, a living embodiment of classical elegance.
She sat down gracefully on a plush velvet armchair, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Her gaze—though obscured by the blindfold—swept across the room, taking in the assembled figures: her father, Taylor Wilson, and her five brothers—Nero (twenty-seven), Justin (twenty-five), Zion (twenty), and the twins Alex and Austin (eighteen).
And then there was Jennifer, her green tea sister, a stark contrast to Ekaterina's understated elegance. Jennifer wore a soft blue summer dress, her golden brown hair flowing down in artful waves, and her hazel-green eyes sparkled with an almost unsettling eagerness. Her face was meticulously made up, carefully crafted to project an image of innocent sweetness.
"Dad, brothers, I want to stay with you guys," Jennifer announced, her voice a carefully modulated melody designed to elicit affection and approval. Her eyes shone with a possessive gleam as she spoke.
Ekaterina's head lifted slightly as she focused on Jennifer. The memories of their previous life flooded back—Jennifer's relentless ambition, her manipulative tactics, her insatiable hunger for power and recognition.
Jennifer was the golden child, the darling of both Taylor and the five brothers. She was the one who effortlessly charmed, who always knew the right thing to say, who expertly played the role of the innocent and desirable heiress. Ekaterina, on the other hand, had been relegated to the sidelines—a quiet, unassuming country bumpkin, deemed unworthy of their attention or affection.
Jennifer stared at Ekaterina with a smug smile playing on her lips. She remembered vividly how within just ten years, the Wilson family would rise to become the richest and most powerful families across the globe. Why would anyone be foolish enough to choose to go with their mother? Jennifer wanted to remain their pampered heiress, to bask in the glow of their adoration and accumulate wealth beyond her wildest dreams.
"Ekaterina, who do you choose?"
Taylor's voice was sharp, laced with impatience and a thinly veiled contempt.
"I want to know, Ekaterina. Who do you choose?"
Ekaterina slowly turned her head towards him, the blindfold shifting slightly as she did so. She didn't speak immediately, allowing a moment of tense silence to hang in the air. Then, her voice, though soft, resonated with an unexpected firmness.
"I choose to go with mom," she said, the words clear and unwavering.
The declaration landed like a thunderclap in the opulent room. Taylor's face contorted with fury as he slammed his palm down on the polished mahogany table, rattling the delicate china cups.
"You ungrateful witch!" he roared, his voice shaking with rage.
The outburst sent a ripple of shock through the room. Nero, the eldest brother, was the first to react, his tall frame instantly towering over Ekaterina. His face, usually impassive and controlled, was now flushed with anger as he lunged forward, his hand raised to strike.
But Ekaterina was quicker than he anticipated. With a fluid grace that belied her apparent fragility, she ducked beneath his outstretched hand, narrowly avoiding the blow. The air crackled with tension as she stood her ground, her posture radiating an unexpected defiance.
"Humph," Nero sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Chasing clout, honestly! You are truly a country bumpkin." He stepped back slightly, regaining his composure but still radiating hostility.
Justin, the second eldest brother, rolled his eyes dismissively.
"Why bother?"
"She's a useless country bumpkin. Let her go and embarrass Mom in that new family," Justin drawled, his voice laced with boredom and thinly veiled contempt.
Zion, the third eldest, adjusted his glasses, his gaze fixed on Ekaterina with a disconcerting intensity.
"Why bother bringing an idiot back?" he asked, his tone clinical and devoid of emotion.