Chapter 6 ( The price of shelter)

A black SUV 2026 model rolled to a stop in the mansion garage. Warren stepped down from the car, shutting the door behind him. with careful steps, he made his way into the building.

He entered the mansion, loosening his cuff as the door closed behind him. The large living room was quiet except for the low murmur of voices two women sat on the couch, one in her early twenties, the other in her mid-fifties. His mother, elegant as always, held a cup of tea. Beside her sat Cassie, young, well dressed, and clearly comfortable in the house. Soft laughter drifted through the room.

Warren made for the stairs, intending not to disturb them, but things had a way of turning back against him. Before he could set a foot on the first step, both women looked up, their attention shifting to him. He muttered a curse under his breath.

"Warren, dear!" his mother said warmly, a smile spreading across her face.

"Warren! You're back! Great!" Cassie said cheerily, standing and walking toward him, a smile lighting her face.

Warren gave her a curt nod, his gaze shifting between his mother and Cassie, his best friend.

Cassie took a step closer, her smile unwavering. She reached out to touch his arm, but Warren shot her a look that said 'don't you dare.' Her smile faltered, and she slowly lowered her arm. He didn't have to say anything, he never did but if she had actually touched him, he would have forgotten their past entirely and done something his mother wouldn't approve of.

His mother watched the exchange quietly, then set her cup down with a soft clink.

"Son, I'm sure you had a good day. Well your grandmother insists on seeing you. She's complained bitterly that you haven't visited in quite some time," she said, watching him, waiting for a response.

Warren stared at his mother, his expression unreadable. "I'll visit her soon." he said flatly, then headed for the stairs.

Cassie watched his silhouette until he disappeared from view, then hurried back to her seat beside Mrs. Hart.

"Mother!" she whined, reaching for Mrs. Hart's hand and holding it tightly. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"No, Cassie. Even as his mother, he doesn't soften toward me only toward his grandmother. You know that. Let Grandma do the talking."

Cassie sighed and slowly released her hand. "Okay. If you say so, Mother."

"So tell me about your last vacation in Italy," Mrs. Hart said, lightening the air and that brought a smile back to Cassie's face, returning her to her usual bubbly self.

Morgan sat behind her desk, scrolling through her tablet, brows drawn together. A soft knock broke the silence before one of the staff members stepped in, holding a clipboard a little too tightly.

"Ma'am... the stock for the new collection is running low. Some designs are completely sold out, and we don't have replacements ready," the girl said, watching Morgan's face for any sign of a frown or displeasure.

Morgan stopped scrolling and simply stared at the screen. She exhaled and waved a hand dismissively.

"Alright. You can go."

The girl blinked, clearly braced for a harsher reaction, then nodded quickly and left.

Once the door closed, Morgan leaned back in her chair and clicked her tongue. New designs, again. She glanced at the time, it was already 8:14pm

"Tch. Perfect," she muttered, already reaching for her bag. There was no point staying any longer tonight.

She walked out of the building toward her parked car, clicked the remote, and the engine roared to life. She slid inside and drove off.

By the time she got home, the mansion was quiet. She dropped her bag on the couch and went straight upstairs, still in her work clothes. She walked down the corridor and stopped at Shayla's door, not bothering to knock before opening it.

Shayla sat on the edge of her bed, one hand resting in Tega's fur, the other busy on her phone. She looked up the instant the door flew open, eyebrows lifting in surprise clearly not expecting Morgan. She dropped her phone and stilled her hand against Tega's fur.

Morgan stepped fully into the room, her gaze settling on Shayla, and for a moment a pang of inferiority washed over her. In terms of beauty, she was nothing close to her stepsister. Her eyes trailed from Shayla's long dark hair, framing her delicate features, down to her slender frame in a simple nightwear that somehow gave her an effortless grace.

A flicker of discomfort passed through Morgan, and for a second she forgot why she'd even come. She pushed the thought aside and walked further into the room.

"I'm running low on designs. The last set already sold out, and I need new ones clothes, accessories, whatever you can put together. And don't even think about giving me something half finished."

Shayla's fingers tightened slightly in Tega's fur. "I already gave you everything I had." She pressed her lips together.

Morgan raised a brow, a small smirk tugging at her mouth. "And? You think that means you're done forever? As long as the Wilsons still shelter you, you're useful. So act like it."

"By tomorrow, I need new sketches drafts. Something that'll blow New York's mind."

Morgan spat the words out, smirk still curled on her lips. When Shayla didn't respond, she turned, walked to the door, and slammed it shut behind her.

Shayla stared at the space where Morgan had stood, the silence pressing in around her. Tega whined softly, nudging his head against her hand, but she barely felt it.

Her hands were shaking from exhaustion, or anger, she couldn't tell anymore. She'd given everything she had. Every idea, every late night hunched over her desk while the house slept, every piece of herself poured into designs that would never carry her name. And still, it was never enough.

She looked down at her hands, the same hands that built someone else's empire while the world called her useless.

Something ugly twisted inside her her chest not sadness but a sharp familiar bitterness. Tomorrow Morgan wanted a new design, fine. But for the first time ever she wasn't going to give her what she wanted, she picked up her pencil and a drawing book which was laying down on the vanity table across from her. She began sketching something Morgan had never seen before.