FATAL TROUBLE (REVERSE HAREM)

Part 105

I still remember the day Lily stepped into my world.

I was eight years old, sitting on the marble floor of our grand living room, flipping through the pages of a storybook. It was one of those evenings where my father's business meetings stretched long into the night, and I had learned to keep myself occupied while the adults spoke in hushed voices about things I didn't understand.

That night, though, was different.

Because instead of the usual crowd of well-dressed businessmen, a family stood before my father.

A man and a woman, with a small girl clinging tightly to her mother's hand.

The girl was Lily.

She looked so... small.

She wore a faded blue dress that seemed a size too big for her, her dark hair neatly tied into two pigtails, though a few loose strands framed her pale face. Her wide brown eyes darted around the massive living room, filled with an emotion I later learned to recognize as hesitation.

She didn't belong here.
She knew it.
And I could tell that she hated that feeling.

I was too young to understand everything that was said, but I picked up enough.

Her parents spoke with a quiet urgency, their voices laced with something close to desperation.

My father listened with an unreadable expression, occasionally glancing at the girl who stood beside them.

I heard things like:
"It was an unfortunate incident."
"We need time to rebuild."
"Just until we find a way back on our feet."

And finally, my father let out a long sigh and nodded.

"You can stay for now."

Lily's mother broke down in tears.

Her father bowed deeply, gratitude clear in his tired eyes.

And Lily?

She just stared at me.

That was the moment our lives became intertwined.

That was the moment she became my friend.

And just like that, Lily became a part of my world.

....*....

At first, Lily was quiet.

She barely spoke, always staying close to her mother, watching everything with those wide, observing eyes.

But slowly—so slowly that I didn't even realize it at first—she started to open up.

We played together in the garden.
We ate meals together at the grand dining table.
She started borrowing my books, my toys, even my dresses.

And I didn't mind.

To me, she was a family.

A sister I never had. My best friend.

And to her...

I was her key to a new life.

Looking back, I see the warning signs I missed.

The way she would quietly observe our dinner conversations, absorbing every word about my father's business.

How her eyes would light up when I mentioned the names of the most influential families in the country.