Chapter 6: The Crown of Silence
The night of Kian's eighteenth birthday had arrived, and the air hummed with an undercurrent of expectation, thick as the champagne bubbles that danced in crystal flutes. The Fenix estate, towering and majestic, glittered in the night sky, the estate's vast halls filled with shadows and light. In every corner of the grand ballroom, gold and glass sparkled under the weight of history and wealth, each guest a silent spectator in the story of the Fenix family.
But for Kian Fenix, this night held no meaning. His birthday—an event celebrated by the world—was just another moment to pass by, another show to be performed. The whispers, the eyes following his every move, the endless congratulations—none of it mattered to him. He had no need for titles, no desire for recognition. But the world, it seemed, needed him.
And they would get him.
Inside the ballroom, the anticipation was palpable, hushed conversations filling the air with eager tension. Business magnates, political figures, and socialites stood clustered in groups, glancing toward the entrance with barely contained excitement.
"Is it time?"
"Of course, it's Kian. The one everyone talks about, but no one can touch."
"He doesn't care about all this attention, does he? He doesn't want the spotlight. He just takes it, without trying."
"He's so… cold. So untouchable."
The words buzzed around the room like a swarm of bees. All eyes were on the doors, waiting for the moment when Kian would make his entrance.
Dmitri, standing near the back of the room, clenched his jaw as his brother's name floated in the air. His chest tightened with a mix of jealousy and disdain. Kian didn't want the attention, didn't crave the spotlight. He simply had it, effortlessly, like everything else that came so easily to him. Dmitri, on the other hand, was cursed with the burden of expectations. The firstborn. But no one cared. It wasn't Dmitri's name that people whispered with awe—it was Kian's.
Dmitri's grip tightened around the glass of champagne in his hand. Tonight, he would make sure that Kian's perfection wasn't so untouchable. Tonight, he would take his moment.
And then, the doors opened.
The noise in the room dropped to a near-silence as Kian Fenix stepped into the grand ballroom. His presence filled the space without him uttering a single word. The spotlight followed him as naturally as the moon follows the night, but he didn't flinch. Kian didn't need the attention. He didn't care for the eyes that turned toward him.
He was a man who lived in a world of his own, detached, cold. His platinum blonde hair, striking yet simple, fell neatly to his shoulders, framing the sharp angles of his face—an ethereal perfection that seemed almost otherworldly. His pale blue eyes, stark against the dark of the room, scanned the space, never lingering too long on anyone. He moved like he belonged to a realm far beyond this one—aloof, untouched.
Kian was tall, built with an elegance that seemed effortless, his movements fluid, graceful. There was nothing warm in him, nothing inviting. He didn't smile as he passed through the crowd, didn't acknowledge the gazes that followed him like a tide. His cold indifference was palpable, and it made him seem even more untouchable. The world could look, but never reach.
"Isn't he… perfect?" one woman whispered, her voice a mix of admiration and envy.
"He's nothing like Dmitri, is he? So much more… refined."
"Dmitri doesn't stand a chance against him. Never has."
"Kian doesn't want the crown, though. And that's what makes him dangerous."
The whispers followed Kian's every step, but he paid them no mind. He wasn't here to listen to their empty praise. He wasn't here to fulfill the expectations of others. His world had always been his mother, and with her in a coma, silent in her bed, there was no place for him in this fake spectacle.
Dmitri watched him from across the room, his expression tight with barely contained frustration. Kian's cold, detached gaze met his for the briefest moment, and Dmitri felt the sting. Kian didn't need to say a word. His presence alone was enough to make Dmitri feel like nothing.
The guests stood in awe, murmuring louder now, their eyes following Kian's every movement. He was everything they had been told about—the prodigy, the genius. And yet, he didn't care. He never asked for any of it. He wasn't like them.
"How does he do it?" one guest marveled under her breath. "He's so… unreachable."
Dmitri's eyes narrowed. He hated that look—he hated how easily Kian commanded everything without effort. Dmitri had worked for years to be seen, to gain even a fraction of the respect Kian effortlessly commanded, but nothing he did was enough. Kian had no passion for power, and yet he had it all.
Dmitri took another sip of his champagne, the bitterness of it matching the bitterness in his chest. His gaze flickered once more to his brother, who was still a mere figure in the distance, untouched, untouchable.
It was then that Dmitri's mind shifted. He had worked hard for this night. And now, he would use every bit of it. The plans were in place. Everything was set.
Tonight, Kian would fall.
And Dmitri would be the one to watch.