First Walk

At exactly two in the morning, Venisa descended the grand staircase.

Calm.

Elegant.

Untouched by the chaos erupting throughout the mansion.

Servants rushed through the corridors, their hurried footsteps and trembling voices filling the once-silent halls.

“The Baroness is dead.”

“She has taken her final breath.”

“Inform the family!”

The news spread like wildfire.

Yet Venisa continued down the stairs as though the entire house had nothing to do with her.

Her gaze remained steady.

Her black dress flowed behind her with every graceful step.

Then she reached the bottom.

The enormous hall stood before her, crowded with servants and family members frozen in panic.

But Venisa barely noticed them.

Her eyes lifted toward the massive portrait hanging above the fireplace.

Her portrait.

Painted long before this night, it now carried a meaning no one could ignore.

She was no longer merely the granddaughter of the Baroness.

She was the new lady of the house.

The new Baroness.

Venisa stared at her portrait in silence.

Behind her, the whispers continued.

Some mourned.

Some feared.

Some were already wondering what would happen to them now.

Venisa simply smiled.

Her grandmother was dead.

And with her final breath, she had unknowingly placed the entire house into Venisa's hands.

Tonight, everyone was mourning the old Baroness.

Tomorrow, they would bow to the new one.

On the second day of the funeral, the mansion was filled with the city’s most influential families.

Business magnates, old-money families, politicians, and prominent figures arrived one after another to pay their respects to the late Baroness. The grand hall was crowded with black dresses, expensive suits, whispered conversations, and carefully hidden intentions.

Everyone wanted to see Venisa.

The new Baroness.

Some offered condolences. Others tried to introduce themselves, hoping to gain her favor now that she controlled the estate.

Venisa ignored them all.

Dressed in an elegant black gown, she stood beside her grandmother’s coffin with an unreadable expression. She neither entertained their conversations nor acknowledged their curious stares.

They had come expecting to meet a grieving granddaughter.

At her side stood Tala, her well-known brother, equally composed beneath the weight of the gathering.

Behind them stood the De Calle family—the adopted family of the former Baroness.

Her eyes remained distant, her expression unreadable.

She didn't care about their whispers.

She didn't care about their curiosity.

She had no intention of pretending to grieve for the comfort of people who had come only to witness what happened after the old Baroness was gone.

As the hours passed, more guests arrived to pay their respects.

The conversations in the grand hall continued in hushed voices until the large doors finally opened once again.

The Montenorie family had arrived.

Their presence immediately drew attention.

They were among the closest acquaintances of the late Baroness, a family who had shared years of familiarity and trust with her. Their arrival was not merely another formal visit.

After offering their condolences, the Montenorie family stepped away from the coffin.

Venisa's gaze lingered.

She found herself staring at the man standing among them.

He was no longer the young boy she remembered.

Time had transformed him into a grown man—tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully built. His dark suit fit his frame perfectly, emphasizing the quiet strength in his presence.

For a moment, Venisa simply looked at him.

The last time she had seen him, he had been younger.

Now, there was something unfamiliar about him.

Something dangerous.

His expression remained composed, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that made Venisa wonder how much he had changed beyond what she could see.

Then his gaze met hers.

Neither looked away.

Venisa's expression remained unreadable.

“Condolences.”

One word. Nothing more.

Before Venisa could respond, Tala stepped forward.

“Thank you. We appreciate you coming.”

The Montenorie man gave him a brief nod.

Venisa remained silent, her eyes still fixed on him.

He had changed.

Far more than she expected.

The night dragged on.

Guests remained seated throughout the mansion, speaking in low voices as the funeral continued. The once-busy hall had slowly grown quieter, but the weight of the day still lingered in the air.

Venisa sat silently, exhaustion finally showing through her composed expression.

Tala noticed.

“You should rest now,” he said quietly. “You've been exhausted all day.”

Venisa wanted to protest, but she knew he was right.

She slowly rose from her seat. Her legs felt weak beneath her.

Tala immediately reached for her arm, steadying her before she could stumble.

“Easy,” he murmured.

Venisa allowed him to guide her toward the grand staircase.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

Only until she reached her room.

The moment Venisa reached her room, the strength she had carried throughout the day finally disappeared.

The door had barely closed behind them when her tears began to fall.

She covered her face, trying to silence the sob that escaped her lips, but it was already too late.

Tala stood beside her. He said nothing.

He simply placed a hand on her shoulder and gently patted her back.

Venisa broke down.

She cried as though she had been holding every tear inside her for years. Her shoulders trembled, and her breathing became uneven as everything she had tried so desperately to suppress finally came rushing back.

Her grandmother was gone.

And suddenly, the mansion felt unbearably empty.

It wasn't only her grandmother she was grieving.

She thought of her mother.

Her sister.

The people she had lost, one after another.

And now, the woman who had remained—the one person whose presence had made this house feel like home—was gone too.

Venisa clung to Tala's arm, crying as though she had no one left in the world.

“I have no one left,” she whispered through her tears.

Tala's hand continued to pat her gently.

“You still have me.”

Venisa closed her eyes.

For tonight, she didn't need to be the Baroness.

She was simply Venisa—a granddaughter, a daughter, a sister, and a girl who had lost too many people she loved.

Tala stayed beside her, gently patting her back as her tears continued to fall.

“You don't have to worry about anything,” he whispered.

Venisa could barely lift her head.

“You have me,” Tala continued. “I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”

Her sobs slowly softened, but the tears didn't stop.

“You don't have to carry everything alone, Venisa. The estate—none of that matters tonight.”

He gently squeezed her shoulder.

“You have me. And as long as I'm here, you have someone to stand beside you.”

Venisa looked at him through tearful eyes.

Tala gave her a small, reassuring smile.

“So don't be afraid. Whatever happens next, we'll face it together.”

Tala leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back.

He remained there, his face close to hers, as though fighting against everything he had buried between them.

Then his restraint broke.

He suddenly kissed her lips.

Venisa froze.

Her eyes widened in shock as memories of them had once shared came rushing back.

Tala pulled away, his breathing unsteady.

Neither spoke.

They didn't need to.

One stolen kiss had awakened everything they had spent years pretending was dead.