The Richardson’s heir

Mask and Murmur in Winifred’s hall

Winifred Hall was no ordinary venue.

After Smith Hall, it was the most revered place within the Richardson estate—grand, luxurious, and soaked in decades of tradition. Hosting any event there was a statement. So, when news broke that Liam Richardson's birthday would be celebrated in Winifred Hall, the media exploded with speculation.

Headlines flooded the press:

“The Richardson's Golden Heir?”

“Liam Shines in the Hall of Legacy”

“From Funeral to Future—Is Liam the Next Richardson Patriarch?”

The coverage painted Liam as the embodiment of grace and promise, a young man worthy of inheritance. And while the attention around Liam soared, so did whispers about Ethan—about his absence from the spotlight, his rumored moodiness, and his increasing reclusion after Grandpa Smith’s death.

At the party, Anna Richardson stood like a queen surveying her court. She sparkled in a champagne-gold dress, mingling confidently with dignitaries and family friends, glass of wine in hand, her smile never faltering.

“This party,” she often joked to guests, “might just be your first glimpse of the future CEO. So, better get on the right side now, before Liam gets too important to take your calls.”

The guests laughed politely, some nervously. Everyone knew Anna rarely joked without meaning.

Among the guests were two women near the bar—Samantha and Celia, longtime family acquaintances.

“I swear, if I’d missed this party, I’d have regretted it forever,” Samantha said with a soft chuckle, sipping her rosé.

“I know, right?” Celia replied, eyes scanning the ornate chandeliers above. “Anna’s got it all figured out—Liam is practically glowing tonight. If charisma alone made a CEO, he’d already be in the boardroom.”

Samantha leaned in with a mischievous smile. “If only I could get my daughter close to Liam. Can you imagine the headlines?”

Celia snorted. “Keep dreaming, Sam. You know how the Richardsons operate. If Liam or Ethan is to marry anyone, it’ll be a girl with just as much power in her blood as money.”

Samantha huffed. “We’re high society too.”

“We are, but they’re royalty,” Celia replied, raising her glass. “And besides, with a mother like Stephanie, Ethan doesn’t need to chase the spotlight. That boy invented something that saved the company when he was ten. Ten!”

“True,” Samantha nodded. “But choosing between Ethan and Liam... that's going to be the family’s biggest drama yet.”

“Wait two more years,” Celia smirked. “Once they hit eighteen, it’s game on.”

Meanwhile, Liam was adjusting his blazer as he saw Laura approach. As Liam adjusted his blazer, he saw Laura making her way through the crowd, and for a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade. Laura Albert, the daughter of one of the most influential. She was the epitome of refined beauty. With soft waves cascading down her shoulders, and a dress that balanced elegance with understated glamour, she carried herself like someone born into legacy—because she was. Her family was old money, well-connected, and deeply respected within elite circles. Her charm and composure made her a favorite at any Richardson gathering. Her smile was disarming, her wit quick, and her presence effortlessly turned heads. Liam had known her since they were children, but each time he saw her now, she looked more like the woman he could one day stand beside—not just as a friend, but perhaps something more.

She handed him a gift, flashing a dazzling smile

“Hey, birthday boy,” she said with a playful tone.

“Hey, yourself,” he replied, taking the gift. “Thanks.”

“Sorry I got in late. We flew in tonight.”

“No worries. Glad you’re here,” Liam chuckled.

Their banter was light, but the moment was electric—at least for Liam. His feelings for Laura weren’t just childhood crushes anymore; they were deeper now, more real. And she seemed even more charming tonight.

Before their conversation could continue, Laura’s father called her over. As she left, Liam caught Ethan across the room and made his way over.

“Hey, bro,” Liam greeted with a raised glass.

“Hey,” Ethan replied, clicking glasses with him.

“You just arrived?” Liam asked.

“I’ve been here for a while,” Ethan smiled.

“Didn’t see you.”

“You were busy enjoying your party. My gift was the first one, remember?”

Liam chuckled awkwardly. “Right, sorry.”

That’s when Iva stepped in, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Ethan. Iva Harrisons wasn’t born into wealth, but there was a quiet strength in her presence that made her unforgettable. A beautiful young woman with warm brown eyes and sun-kissed skin, Iva had a grace that came not from etiquette classes or designer labels, but from confidence, intelligence, and authenticity. Her long dark hair was often pulled back in a casual ponytail, yet it only highlighted her naturally striking features.

Coming from a middle-class background, Iva stood out in a world dominated by diamonds and dynasties. She was the daughter of a respected teacher and a successful small business owner, and her values were deeply rooted in humility and hard work. Though she didn't wear her worth in gold, it was evident in her character, her kindness, and the way she spoke with conviction.

To those who truly knew her—especially Ethan—her beauty wasn’t just in her appearance, but in her mind, her laughter, and her courage to stand tall in a room full of power and pretense.

“Ethan!” she smiled, hugging him.

“Iva, you made it” Ethan lightened up

“The great Ethan invited me. How could I miss it?” she beamed.

Liam’s face darkened slightly. “Wait—he invited you? To my party?”

“Yes,” Iva replied. “Is that a problem?”

Liam turned sharply to Ethan. “Bro, this is my party. Only guests invited by me or my mother should be here.”

“Come on,” Ethan said calmly. “It’s Iva. You know her.”

“I want her out,” Liam said flatly, voice rising.

“Don’t do this, Liam,” Ethan said softly, trying to de-escalate.

“What’s your problem with me, Liam?” Iva asked, confused.

“Ethan, I said I want her out. Now!”

Guests were beginning to take notice. Eyes drifted toward the growing tension. Iva looked down at the gift she brought, only to have it swatted out of her hands by Liam.

That was the last straw.

“If she leaves, I leave,” Ethan said, voice cold.

“Then so be it,” Liam snapped.

Gasps. Whispers. The music dimmed in the background.

Without another word, Ethan gently took Iva’s hand and walked out of the hall. The murmurs slowly died as guests tried to return to the rhythm of the evening.

A few feet away, Laura rushed over. “What was that about? I heard murmurs about a fight.”

“Nothing,” Liam said tightly.

“Are you sure? It’s going around fast.”

“Don’t worry. It’s handled,” Liam forced a smile.

Laura tilted her head. “I just hope this doesn’t reach Aunt Steph. You know how she is.”

Liam smiled, hiding the storm beneath. “Don’t worry. I’ve got Mom.”

Laura giggled. “Well, your mom doesn’t stand a chance with Aunt Steph.”

That comment pierced more deeply than she knew.

Outside, Ethan and Iva stood under the cool night sky.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, still holding her hand.

“No, I should be the one apologizing,” Iva sighed. “You left the party for me.”

“You’re my friend. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Do you think this will hurt your image?”

“I don’t care,” he said simply.

A pause.

“Well… heading home?” Iva asked softly.

“I think so. You?”

“My driver’s just around the corner.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

They hugged. A quiet, comforting moment between two people caught in the crossfire of a war they didn’t start.