Redemption of the heiress

Around the garden, she walked briskly, glancing at her watch

- six o'clock, right on time!

She slowed her pace and turned toward the entrance, sneaking a few glances behind her to make sure no one was watching.

When she crossed past the row of trees separating the garden from the main gate, she let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Her eyes flicked toward the guard cabin - George was fast asleep.

As expected.

George was always like that:

asleep unless you needed him to open or close the gate.

But his real magic trick?

Waking up in a flash, without even a trace of sleep on his face. That was probably the only reason he'd kept this job for so many years.

Without wasting time, Evelyn softened her steps and slipped through the tall iron bars until she was finally in front of the big red mailbox with her family name,

"CROSSAL,"

written on it in gold.

She carefully opened it, pulled out five letters, and left the newspapers and magazines inside.

Flipping through the envelopes, Evelyn found what she was looking for

: the usual cheap envelope, same Brooklyn address.

The letter was for her grandmother, Martha Crossal.

Evelyn shoved the letter into her pocket and tiptoed back through the bars - this time, it took a little longer, but she made it.

She felt the letter in her pocket, already planning how to handle this mess.

About a month ago, during one of her weekly visits to her grandparents,

Evelyn had accidentally discovered that Grandma was secretly writing to her so-called father.

Apparently, the man had been in some kind of accident and reached out for help - and, of course, he used that chance to start sending updates about his "happy little family"

and some drawings from his youngest son. Evelyn had seen the names, but honestly, she didn't want to know anything about that circus.

At first, she hadn't worried.

Grandma had been hoping for years to reunite with her beloved son, John.

Evelyn honestly couldn't care less - until she realized something.

Grandma didn't just want to exchange letters. She wanted John and his family to move back in.

Evelyn had been sure that was impossible.

Grandpa would never accept his "failure" of a son back into the house.

She was young back then, but she still remembered that day

- the shouting, her mother's tears, the big fight between her dad and Grandpa.

It ended with her dad walking out forever, leaving behind nothing but a pathetic kiss on her forehead before running off with his mistress.

That was the last time she'd seen or heard anything about him.

And honestly? She was grateful.

Life had gone smoothly since then. It had been two years since she took over managing the family's main hotel, and Grandpa was proud of her work.

Evelyn had expected this would be her life - a few more years running the hotel,

then taking over the whole chain as CEO. That had been her dream for years.

And it was so close. Grandpa was getting older, his health was slipping a little, and even though he was a stubborn old man with some very traditional ideas,

Evelyn knew she had proved herself.

Besides, she was his only heir. He didn't exactly have other options.

Her father? Please.

The man cared more about his paintings than business. He'd never been competition.

Or so she thought.

Thanks to the stolen letters, Evelyn now realized she had overlooked one dangerous rival - her older brother.

If John came back, he would come back too.

Evelyn's jaw tightened. No way was she letting that happen. She'd make sure that family never set foot in this house again.

She slipped lightly up the stairs and into the house. It was no longer as quiet as when she'd left in the morning - the staff were awake, making breakfast, tidying up.

This was one reason she had moved out to her own apartment in Tribeca a year ago -

and honestly, it had been the best year of her life. Her apartment was the only place that felt like home.

Life at her grandparents' house wasn't bad - the mansion was huge, fancy, filled with art, with a massive garden and a perfect location on Greenwich Avenue in Manhattan.

But it was always crowded with staff, always noisy. It felt more like a hotel than a home.

Coming back here now was just another reason to resent her father.

She finally reached her room, now freshly cleaned by the housekeepers. Evelyn closed the door, pulled out the letter, and tore it open with her car keys - because, really, who has time for a letter opener?

Inside were two carefully folded sheets.

The first was a note from her father. In short, he was thanking her for the help, and apparently, Grandma had already bought him a car.

Of course she had.

He also said his health was improving and she shouldn't stress herself trying to convince Grandpa. He was happy just knowing they were all doing well.

"Hypocrite," Evelyn muttered.

The second sheet was, as usual, a drawing from her younger brother. Evelyn doubted Grandma was thrilled with these little art projects.

Martha was a tough, practical woman - no surprise, given she came from old British nobility.

But her one weakness? Her son, John.

And that weakness was about to turn Evelyn's whole life upside down.

Martha was strict with everyone - even with Evelyn!

But when it came to John, she turned into the sweetest, softest mom you could imagine.

She'd always had a strong bond with her husband Philip, but even their relationship wasn't safe from the damage caused by his fights with John.

Evelyn could still remember the first big fights they had after John left home. Martha tried her best to stop her husband's decisions, but what could she do?

John had packed up and left - and he didn't want to come back.

But now that he had finally decided to return, evelyn was sure nothing on earth could stop her from making it happen.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Evelyn tossed the two papers into a glass with a bit of alcohol, pulled out her lighter, and set them on fire. She watched them burn until they turned into a sad little pile of ash. With a small sigh, she walked into the bathroom connected to her bedroom.

She took a quick shower, slipped into one of her fancy cream-colored suits, brushed her blonde hair, put on some makeup, and left her room to join her grandparents for breakfast.

Usually, coffee was all she needed in the morning. But here, in this house, she was stuck following the family's morning traditions - starting with breakfast sharp at 7 a.m. No excuses.

"Good morning,"

she said as soon as she stepped into the huge dining room.

Her grandparents stopped talking the second they saw her.

Uh-oh - definitely talking about something they didn't want her to hear.

"Good morning,"

her grandma replied sweetly,

while her grandpa just gave her a grumpy little nod. Okay someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Normally, she would avoid talking to him when he was in one of those moods. But ever since she came back here (pretending it was just because of "apartment repairs"),

she had taken it upon herself to remind Grandpa daily of how much "hard work" she was doing to improve the family hotels.

So, without skipping a beat, she sat down on his left side and launched into her usual update about the new French chef she had hired and how sales had shot up.

Surprise, surprise - her little speech actually seemed to cheer Philip carosel up. That wasn't her main goal, but hey, a few extra points with the old man? She wasn't going to complain.

⸻

On the other side of New York,

far from the fancy streets of Manhattan, in the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn,

Maria sat on her bed scrolling through her cracked phone screen. She had just finished putting on her school uniform.

For the thousandth time, she was looking at the jaw-dropping photos on her half-sister Evelyn's Instagram.

Luxury vacations, glittering parties, designer dresses, perfect pictures with friends that looked straight out of Vogue - even Evelyn's random daily posts looked like they belonged in a magazine.

Maria checked Evelyn's stories every single day. It was basically her morning coffee.

She snapped out of her daydream when her little brother Jeremy called for breakfast. With a sigh, she glanced at herself in the cracked mirror in the tiny room she shared with him. She was pretty sure this whole room was smaller than Evelyn's walk-in closet, which had been the backdrop of one of her latest selfies.

Maria pushed her dark hair back and wished, just for a second, that she had shiny blonde hair like her sister. But hey - at least they both had the same blue eyes. Small wins, right?

Her best friend Jessica had told her she was "obsessed" with Evelyn in a kind of... concerning way, while her other friend Lola had flat-out called her "pathetic" during their last fight.

But Maria didn't think so. She didn't feel jealous - just full-on admiration.

After all, it's not every day an ordinary teenager like her turns out to be part of a rich family and the half-sister of Evelyn Cross - basically the Kylie Jenner of high society.

Okay, maybe Maria was a tiny bit obsessed. But can you blame her? She had only found out about Evelyn by accident when she saw an old photo of her with their dad. When Maria asked her older brother Alex, he spilled the whole story.

For years, Maria had begged her dad to come home, but he always said no - and told her not to bring it up again.

Everything changed six months ago. Their dad was in a car accident, and the surgery bills were so high they had to move out of their old (small but decent) house into this shoebox of an apartment that barely fit two people - let alone five.

Now her parents shared a room, she and Jeremy shared one, and poor Alex was stuck sleeping on the couch. And even after the surgery, the costs of meds and physical therapy were sky-high. That's when Maria suggested they ask their grandma for help. To her surprise, Grandma was thrilled to help - she even bought them a new car to replace the one wrecked in the crash.

And honestly? Things were finally starting to look up. Maria had even overheard her parents talking about maybe moving back in with their grandparents.

"Maria, come on - breakfast's getting cold!" her mom called.

"Coming, Mom!"

Grabbing her schoolbag, Maria rushed to the kitchen. Jeremy and their dad were already at the table, happily digging into the pancakes her mom had made.

"Where's Alex?" she asked her dad.

"He left for work already - it's 7:30."

Maria just nodded, her mouth full of food, only to feel her mom's gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Slow down, you'll choke."

"I can't, Mom - I'm already late!"

"Don't worry, you can take the car today. Susan's picking me

up for work, and your dad doesn't have therapy today. Just don't forget to drop Jeremy off on the way."

Maria's eyes lit up. She gave her mom a quick side-hug and went back to inhaling her pancakes.