Page 122 of Wisteria and Cloves

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Page 122 of Wisteria and Cloves

Lilianna

Iclosed my book at the sound of a car door shutting outside. Through the living room window, I could see a sleek black sedan parked in our driveway. A woman with perfectly styled auburn hair and a sharp business suit stepped out, her movements efficient and purposeful as she gathered a leather briefcase from the passenger seat.

"That's Mara," Julian said, appearing beside me at the window. His hand found the small of my back, a gesture that had become as natural as breathing. "Are you ready for this?"

I took a deep breath, watching as Mara approached the front door with confident strides. "As ready as I can be," I replied, though my stomach fluttered with nervous energy.

The doorbell chimed, and Christopher appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "I'll get it," he said, flashing me a reassuring smile before heading to the door.

Christopher pulled the door open just as Mara raised her hand to knock. She stepped inside like she belonged there, her presence instantly filling the space with a quiet intensity. Her eyes flicked over each of us in a single sweep—assessing, measuring—but not unkindly. Just… precise. Calculated.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice smooth and polished, with a cadence that made it impossible not to listen. “Thank you for making time for this.”

Julian stepped forward and offered his hand. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

“Of course,” Mara replied, shaking his hand firmly. Her gaze slid to me, and I straightened instinctively. Not out of fear—just the sudden awareness of being studied. “Lilianna, it’s nice to officially meet you.”I nodded. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you too, in person that is.”

She offered me a small, respectful smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes but didn’t feel fake either. “I’ve heard a great deal about you already.”

“Hopefully not all from my parents,” I muttered under my breath.

To my surprise, she chuckled. “No. From people with far better judgment.” That earned her a genuine smile from me, and something in her posture relaxed. She wasn’t here to coddle or lecture. She was here to handle this—with sharp eyes and sharper strategy.

We led her into the sitting room, where Nicolaus had already arranged the coffee table with printed documents, his tablet, and a neat row of sticky notes color-coded by topic. The fireplace crackled softly behind us, casting a golden warmth through the room as we all took our seats. Julian and I sat on thesmall couch, his thigh pressed to mine, his presence grounding. Nicolaus sat on one side of the armchair with his legs crossed, Mara taking the other. Christopher dropped onto the opposite couch with a mug of tea and his usual lack of formality, though I could see the flicker of focus in his eyes.

Mara set her briefcase down and flipped it open, retrieving a crisp folder. “I want to start with the most time-sensitive issue: the conservatorship petition your parents attempted to file.”

I felt Julian’s hand close gently over mine as my stomach tensed.

“They’ve backed off for now,” she continued, “but that doesn’t mean they’re finished. We have about a week, maybe ten days, before they try another angle—likely through emotional appeal via media. It’s already started subtly, as Nicolaus warned you. Whisper campaigns. ‘Family concern’ articles. Soft framing to test the waters.”

She opened the folder and passed me the first page—an article clipped from a gossip blog. The headline read:Heiress Gone Quiet—Wycliffe Family ‘Concerned’ for Daughter’s Well-Being.

“They didn’t name me,” I said, reading the article with a mounting sense of disbelief. “But they don’t have to.”

“No, they don’t,” Mara confirmed. “It’s strategic. These are breadcrumbs. Designed to stir curiosity and public sympathy without exposing themselves to scrutiny. They want people asking questions before you ever get to answer them.”

"So what's our counter-strategy?" I asked, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. "I won't let them paint me as unstable or manipulated."

Mara's eyes flickered with something that might have been approval. "We have several options, each with their own risks and benefits." She pulled out another sheet, this one filled with bullet points in a neat, precise hand. "First, we continue what you've already begun—organic social presence showing yourindependence and growth. No direct references to family or conflict. Just you, living well."

Julian nodded beside me. "Lilianna's account has already gained significant traction. Over twelve thousand followers in less than a week."

"Impressive," Mara acknowledged with a slight nod. "But we need to be strategic about content. Your parents will be watching for any sign of vulnerability or impulsivity they can weaponize."

She gave a hum before glancing back at me, “I think posting some more behind the scenes of you with the guys, you don’t have to show your face if you don’t want to. Like pictures of them doing things around you as you spend time together.

"That's smart," I said, warming to the idea. "Show them that I'm not isolated or controlled. That I have genuine relationships."

"Exactly," Mara confirmed. "We want to establish a visual narrative of normalcy and happiness. Your parents are betting on portraying you as either a victim or unstable. Happy, candid moments with people who clearly care about you, undermines both angles."

Christopher leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "What about the cooking lesson this afternoon? We could document some of that—nothing staged, just natural moments."

"Perfect," Mara said, making a note. "Domestic activities, learning new skills, laughter. It shows growth and stability." She looked back at me. "The key is authenticity. Don't perform for the camera, just let it capture genuine moments."

Miles, who had been quietly listening from his position by the window, spoke up.

"What about the legal side?" Miles asked, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of concern. "If they can't make the conservatorship stick, what's their next move?"