The Richardson’s heir

The morning after

The grandeur of Liam's birthday party was meant to seal his image as the next in line — a rightful heir basking in legacy and approval. But the morning after told a different story. The media had caught wind of the conflict, and headlines now danced with words like “Family Rift” and “Richardson Rivalry Exposed.”

Downstairs in the Richardson estate’s sunlit yet tense living room, the echoes of the party had barely faded when Stephanie called for a family meeting. Her tone was firm, her purpose clear — control the narrative and reassert order.

Anna tried her best to steady Liam’s nerves. “Listen honey, we are going downstairs now. Do not be scared of Steph, don’t let her pressure you, okay?” she whispered, stroking his neatly styled hair as if her maternal touch could ward off the storm awaiting them.

“Okay, Mom,” Liam nodded, masking his anxiety with a smirk of confidence.

Inside the living room, Stephanie sat with one leg crossed elegantly over the other, an image of calm power. She didn’t need to raise her voice — her presence alone was commanding.

The boys stood before her — Ethan with quiet resolve, Liam with forced poise. Stephanie’s voice was cool and deliberate. “Now, my first question to you, Liam — what caused the ruckus yesterday?”

Liam’s eyes flitted to his mother briefly before responding with a hint of smugness, “Ethan brought an uninvited guest to the party. My party.”

Stephanie arched a brow, mildly amused. “Oh? Well, yes, you do have a right to be upset since it was your party…”

Anna saw an opening and jumped in, “Ethan doesn’t have the right to—”

“Anna,” Stephanie interrupted sharply without turning her head. “This isn’t about you. Don’t interfere.”

Anna went silent, lips pursed.

Ethan, always composed, answered sincerely. “I apologize, Mom. I assumed since it was a family event, we could invite people close to us. I didn’t think I needed to clear it first.”

Stephanie gave a short sigh. “The apology isn’t for me. It's for Liam.”

Ethan turned slightly, giving Liam a respectful nod. “I’m sorry, Liam, for bringing someone without your permission.”

Liam smirked in victory. “Thank you.”

Anna, never one to miss a power play, added with venom, “He should be grounded.”

But Stephanie turned to her with a look that sliced. “I thought I told you to zip it, Anna.” The silence that followed made even the air feel tense.

Stephanie then turned to Liam. “Ethan already brought her in — so why escalate it? Why not handle it discreetly? Instead, you humiliated your cousin and gave the press a field day.”

“I couldn’t just let it slide,” Liam said. “It was a matter of dignity. And the girl was rude.”

Ethan’s confusion was immediate. “Rude? When—?”

“Ethan,” Stephanie held up a hand. “Don’t speak until asked.”

Then, with chilling calm: “Who is this girl, Liam?”

“Iva Harrison,” Liam said like the name was dirt on marble.

Stephanie turned to Ethan again.

“She’s my friend at school. Yes, she’s middle class, but so what? She’s smart, sincere, and she attends our school — doesn’t that say something about her family? Must our wealth dictate our friendships now?”

Stephanie’s expression softened slightly. “No, honey. You can make friends with anyone you wish — just make sure they’re the right people. That’s all I ask.”

With a deep sigh, she closed the subject. “Liam, you should’ve handled it better. I expect an apology to Ethan.”

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” Liam muttered, his voice devoid of remorse.

Stephanie clapped once. “Good. Now off to school. Go.”

The boys left the room, tension still thick between them.

But Stephanie wasn’t done.

She turned to Anna with a sharp, restrained fury. “Liam shouldn’t have apologized? Really? Then allow me to remind you — Liam once invited unapproved friends to Ethan’s fifteenth birthday. They trashed the sitting room. Ethan didn’t make a scene, nor did he demand your son be grounded.”

Anna froze.

“Oh, and those hit pieces you paid the magazines to publish about Ethan? Have them taken down. I know what you did. I’m letting it slide — this time. But dare mess with my son again, and I will not be so graceful.”

She stood up and walked out, her personal assistant following like a shadow.

Anna sat still, hands trembling. Steph had known all along.

Later at School

Liam was still fuming, trying to save face when Laura approached him in the hallway. Laura - flawless in her designer uniform and practiced smile. Her long brunette hair framed her perfect cheekbones. Everyone noticed when she walked in.

“Liam,” she greeted.

He turned, feigning nonchalance.

“Laura,” he replied,lightening up

“I saw the tabloids. Not flattering.”

“It’s all Ethan and that stupid girl’s fault,” Liam scoffs, his jaw tightening

“You mean Iva?” Laura smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Honestly, I don’t get why Ethan chose to be friends with her. Her family is middle class. It’s nowhere near the standards of the Richardsons.”

He chuckled darkly. “I guess we view things in the same light.”

Laura tilted her chin, eyes narrowing. “And now look at her. Running to catch up with him like a lost puppy.”

Liam turned his head just in time to see Iva racing down the walkway, her satchel bouncing at her side. She was radiant in her simplicity—dark curls tied in a ponytail, cheeks flushed from exertion, and her school uniform slightly tousled. There was an authenticity to her beauty that drew attention, even if some refused to admit it.

“Hey buddy,” Iva called out to Ethan, breathless but grinning.

“You ran?” Ethan raised a brow, amused.

“Yeah, let me catch my breath,” she panted, giggling. They bumped fists and did their quirky handshake—a quick spiral motion followed by a heart-shaped gesture they’d invented during lunch breaks.

“I saw the headlines this morning,” Iva said, her tone light but cautious. “Your mom must’ve been furious.”

Ethan rolled his eyes with a sigh. “A lot.”

They laughed, the kind of laughter that comes from comfort, from genuine connection.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” she said suddenly, her tone shifting.

“For what?”

“I got you into this mess. I shouldn’t have come, maybe.”

“Hey.” He stopped walking, his face sincere. “I invited you. None of this is your fault, okay? Don’t carry that.”

Iva gave a soft nod, her smile returning. “Alright, sire,” she teased, nudging him lightly.

He chuckled, and they continued walking.

“I honestly don’t know what I did to Liam,” she said after a pause. “We barely speak—only when you’re around. And even then, he barely acknowledges me.”

Ethan stopped again, this time more seriously.

“You want the truth?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“He doesn’t like you.”

Iva blinked. “What?”

“He told everyone you were rude to him at the party. That’s what he said when Mom asked why he reacted the way he did.”

“Rude? How was I rude.”

Ethan shrugged, a small frown tugging at his brow. “I know. He lied.”

Iva looked away, her throat tightening. “That explains why he always cuts me off or acts like I’m invisible. I thought I was imagining things.”

Ethan’s tone dropped just a bit, serious but gentle.

“Now you know, so keep your distance to avoid getting hurt,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets as he continued walking ahead.

Iva stared at his back for a second, quietly processing his words. It wasn’t just the warning—it was the way he said it. Protective. Calm. Like someone who’d been burned by the politics of his world more than once, and didn’t want her caught in the crossfire.

She jogged a few steps to catch up, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“Thanks, buddy… for letting me know.”

Ethan glanced sideways at her and smiled faintly. “Anytime.”

They walked a few more steps in comfortable silence. Despite the mess that surrounded them—the headlines, the whispers in the hallways, Liam’s icy glares—there was something grounding in the friendship they shared. Iva might not belong to their world in the eyes of people like Liam or Laura, but with Ethan, she never felt like an outsider.

“What do we have this morning?” he asked, already dreading the answer.

Iva winced playfully. “I think geography.”

Ethan groaned, dramatically rolling his eyes. “Ughh, I hate geography. It’s just maps and rocks and the occasional volcano. Why do we even need it?”

She laughed, nudging his arm. “Because, genius, if you ever find yourself stranded in the middle of nowhere, you’ll need to know where north is.”

“I’ll just ask my driver,” he quipped, smirking.

They both burst into laughter, the sound standing out against the low murmur of students milling about the school courtyard.

At that moment, the shrill ring of the school bell cut through the air. The pace around them quickened as students started hurrying into the building, adjusting backpacks and rushing for lockers.

Ethan and Iva shared a look.

“Race you?” she grinned, already picking up her pace.

He blinked. “Wait—no fair!”

Iva darted ahead, laughing, as Ethan groaned and chased after her, the tension of the past twenty-four hours momentarily lifted.

Inside the classroom, whispers had already begun—about the party, the press, the apology—but as Iva slid into her seat beside Ethan, they exchanged a look that said, Let them talk.

Because in a world built on appearances and alliances, their friendship was real—and that made all the difference.