~Horts Mansion~
In one of Snow City's upscale residential areas worth millions of dollars, the Horts' ancestral estate stood in quiet dominance.
It covered several hectares of land, perfectly kept and evenly mowed, every blade of grass trimmed to perfection.
It was as though even nature dared not grow wild within its borders.
Tall ornamental trees lined the boundaries like silent sentinels, their thick branches arched overhead and intertwined to form a natural boulevard.
Sunlight filtered through the layered leaves, casting patterned shadows across the stone pathway beneath.
It was a sight that reflected the serene beauty of nature—calming, cool, and deceptively peaceful.
At the heart of the vast land stood a century-old white castle, looming both dominantly and attractively..
Its architecture was proof of years of legacy and power...The Horts family of Snow City.
Details of their life and place in society were etched perfectly into every part of the structure as though it was a voice of its own.
For more than a century, the Horts family had always held the number one place in the city.
In business, in politics, in medicine, education and whatever sector you think that matters.
Surrounded by flowers of multiple colors, the walkway and driveway were paved with carefully laid cobblestone, which had been polished smooth by time and maintenance.
Behind the mansion stretched an expansive garden, well cared for and not much different from the other parts of the land.
A water fountain stood at its center, water cascading in steady rhythm into a marble basin.
The sound was gentle, almost soothing, a contrast to the quiet heaviness that often hung around the estate.
Seated in the middle of that garden was an elderly fair lady.
Her facial features were both distinct and calm, but the toll the years had taken on her was etched clearly across her skin.
Despite the maintenance of her body, the wrinkles on her face were no joke.
Her reading glasses perched on her nose as though they were part of her fashion, not an aid.
Her grey hair was tied neatly into a ponytail. Several files were laid out before her in orderly stacks, a glass of freshly squeezed juice resting untouched beside them.
Though old, she remained as strong as a horse.
The matriarch of the Horts family.
Lady Monica Horts had only a few months left until her eightieth birthday.
Until recently, she had remained firmly at the helm of the Hort Group's affairs, refusing to relinquish control despite her advancing age.
With her husband's death three decades ago, the major decision-making power had fallen entirely into her hands. And she had never loosened her grip.
Though Alex Hort bore the title of president, his actions were still under the old lady's scrutiny.
To be more clear, he still needed the old lady's approval for matters of importance.
Just like in the case of his marriage, he had nothing to argue about and had carefully accepted the rule.
"Mr. Alex is back," a maid announced softly from a few steps away.
Monica's hand faltered slightly over the document she had been reviewing, then stilled completely.
Her gaze, unreadable, lifted slowly from the file before her to meet the maid.
"When did he arrive?" she asked emotionlessly.
"He just arrived, ma'am," the maid replied, her head lowered respectfully, her fist tightened around the tray in her hand.
Her heart thumped hard when Monica's gaze lingered on her.
Seconds later, Monica exhaled slowly and nodded once. "That's fine. Tell him I am here."
The maid obeyed immediately, placing the tray of neatly arranged desserts on the table before leaving the garden.
Monica's eyes trailed after her retreating figure until she disappeared beyond the trimmed hedges.
Only then did she reach for the phone resting beside her.
She dialed a secured line and lifted the phone to her ear. The call was picked up on the second ring.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice flat and direct as though she was expecting something to happen.
"Bad news," a man's voice filtered through the speaker. His tone was calm—too calm that it sent chills down one's spine.
The kind of calm only he could keep when delivering unpleasant outcomes.
"Spill it," she said coldly.
The voice paused slightly as though he was trying to put his words together.
"The young lady died."
The words landed heavier than the still air.
Lady Monica's breath caught almost imperceptibly.
Her fingers tightened around the phone and her vein pulsed furiously.
For a fraction of a second, the steadiness she had cultivated over decades wavered.
Though it was just slightly.
"When?" she clipped.
"Moments ago."
The sound of the fountain seemed louder suddenly.
Monica closed her eyes briefly, and when she reopened them, it had returned to calmness as though that flicker had never been there.
"Alright." She answered and decisively ended the call.
Her face had already regained its usual composure by the time footsteps approached from behind.
"Grandma." Alex greeted, his voice hoarse and strained.
Lady Monica glanced at him.
"You are here."
Alex walked forward and sat opposite her. He lowered himself slowly, almost mechanically.
His hand rested on his knee, fingers clasped tightly together as though restraining emotion he wouldn't want to display.
Up close, his appearance betrayed him.
His eyes were bloodshot, the rims faintly swollen. There was a lingering stiffness in his posture.
Monica observed him in silence.
The resemblance to her late husband had always been clear in Alex; the sharp nose, the intense gaze. Monica exhaled slowly and calmly.
"You went to the hospital," she stated rather than asking.
"Yes."
"And how did it go? Any improvement?" she asked.
Alex swallowed, then his gaze lowered "She's gone."
Monica did not react.
The fountain continued its steady rhythm.
"How did it happen?" she asked after a pause.
"It was unexpected. The doctors earlier said one month, but unexpectedly she had an episode."
Monica stared at him, her gaze cold and unflinching. Silence stretched between them.
Alex felt uncomfortable under the weight of her stare.
"Grandma…" he whispered. His fingers tightened further, unsure why she was staring at him yet uttering no comment.
"Are you finally relieved?" Monica smirked
Alex's brow furrowed. This was the last question he had expected to hear from his grandmother.
Knowing the importance she placed on Sonia...it was both disturbing and alarming that she was calm.
He had expected her throwing a tantrum to sue the hospital or maybe cry hard but she was calm...too calm for his comfort.
"Alex, are you relieved now?" Monica pressed.
"Relieved?" he murmured, confusion swirling in his expression. "How?"
Monica sighed. "Alex. We never know what we have until the moment we lose it."
Alex felt his heart thump hard against his chest. Even at this moment, he couldn't wrap his head around what his grandmother meant.
He had arrived here with the purpose of telling her, but it seemed she had long awaited his arrival.
His brow furrowed.
It can't be because she is keeping tabs on me.
"I don't understand," he answered.
Lady Monica scoffed unwilling to speak more to him.
"Set a date for her burial," she said calmly.
"Sonia had always been a good girl. She would not want her remains disturbed."
She paused slightly. Her eyes flickered with unknown light before it dimmed.
Let her be laid to rest in peace."