The Lost Heiress: Loved By Three

Clash of wills

(Elias)

I got home after leaving her room. The house was quiet. Everything was in place, as it always was. My parents weren't here. I could have gone straight to my room, but I stayed in the living room instead.

I kept thinking about Avery. The way she told me she didn’t know how to act around her family. The way she didn’t back down when I pushed her at the table. Most people would have folded. Most people would have let me take over the conversation. She didn’t. She was stubborn and sincere. That was rare.

I thought about her voice when she said it was awkward. She wasn’t just being polite. She really didn’t know what to do in that room. I could see it in her eyes. She wanted to belong, but she didn’t know how yet.

I told myself I was only helping her because she would fail without it. But the truth was I wanted to see her get it right. I wanted to see her stand firm without me holding her up. Part of me wanted to see her fight to prove she could.

***

By the time I decided to go back, it was just before five the next morning. I arrived at her house and pressed the doorbell. The staff member who's name is Joe answered almost immediately.

“Good morning, Mr. Carrington,” Joe said.

“I need to see Avery,” I said.

“She’s still asleep,” Joe replied.

“That's okay,” I said.

He stepped aside and let me in. I didn’t say anything. I went straight upstairs to her room. I knocked once. No answer. I knocked again. Still nothing. I knocked a third time. I didn’t stop. My knocks reverberated down the hall until finally I heard movement inside.

The door opened slowly, and she appeared. Her hair was messy, and she rubbed her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

“Lesson two,” I said. “Outside.”

She blinked at me. “It’s five in the morning.”

“I told you we start early,” I said.

She went to change. I waited in the hall. When she came back in a sweatshirt and track pants, she looked tired but alert.

“Come on,” I said.

We walked outside. The air was cold, but it didn’t bother me. I stood in front of her. “We are working on posture and tone today.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Stand straight,” I said. “Shoulders relaxed, not tense.”

She adjusted slightly.

“Better. Now speak. Tell me what you want for breakfast. Say it like you mean it. Not like you are asking permission.”

She looked at me. “I want pancakes,” she said.

“Too soft. Say it again.”

“I want pancakes,” she repeated, louder.

“Better. Now something harder. Tell me you are not going to do something I asked.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not doing it,” she said.

“Still too soft. You sound like you are hoping I will give up.”

“I am not hoping anything,” she said.

“Then prove it. Make me believe you.”

She stepped closer. “I’m not doing it,” she said again, firm.

I nodded. “Good. That is how you keep people from walking over you.”

She crossed her arms. “You don’t have to keep talking to me like I am a child.”

“You are not a child,” I said. “But you are new. I am making sure you are ready.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be ready your way,” she said.

“Your way will not work at Prestwick.”

“You do not know that,” she snapped.

Her tone caught me off guard. Few people ever snapped at me like that. I looked at her and held my gaze. “I have been there. I know how it works.”

“I am not you,” she said. “I do not want to be you. I just want to get through this without feeling like I am failing all the time.”

“You will not fail if you listen,” I said.

She shook her head. “You do not get it. You keep acting like everything I do is wrong. I am trying. I cannot change everything overnight just because you think I should.”

Her voice was harsher than I expected. I didn’t look away. “You are stubborn. That is good. Use that.”

“I am not stubborn,” she said. “I am not doing everything your way.”

“You will not get far with that attitude,” I said calmly.

“I do not care what you think,” she said. “I am doing it my way.”

I studied her for a moment. She looked at me without flinching. Her jaw was set. She was challenging me, but not disrespectfully. It made me want to see how far she could go.

“You are learning,” I said finally. “Do not mistake my tone for disrespect. I am showing you the quickest way to get what you want.”

“I do not want shortcuts,” she said.

“Then do it my way, fast,” I said. “Or take longer your way. The results are the same.”

“I am not here to follow you blindly,” she said.

“Good,” I said. “That is what I want. You are not blind. That makes it easier.”

She let out a short breath. “Finally, you said something right.”

I did not respond. I kept my eyes on her posture, her voice, her tone. Every correction I made, she absorbed it. She complained, she argued, but she changed. That was progress.

After forty minutes, I told her to stop. “That is enough for today.”

She let out a breath and rubbed her arms. “Finally.”

“You did better than I expected,” I said.

“That is almost a compliment,” she said.

“It is,” I said.

Her mouth curved slightly. “I will take it then,” she said, surprising me.

We started walking back. I could feel her looking at me once or twice. I knew she was trying to figure me out.

I was trying to figure her out too. She was stubborn, confident, and unafraid to challenge me. That was unusual for someone in her position, with her background. She made me think differently.

I realized I was enjoying the lessons more than I expected. Not just because of the work, but because she made me see what it was like to deal with someone who was willing to fight back.

Her voice came from beside me. “You could smile once in a while. It would not hurt you to say good job.”

I did not respond. She laughed a little. That sound made me feel something I did not expect. I turned to glance at her. Her eyes met mine and she looked almost proud of herself.

I watched her go inside, moving naturally despite the early hour. She was unafraid and completely herself. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, about how different she was from anyone I had ever met.