When your father, Bart Bass, died, the world didn’t stop. It just… went quiet.

The papers called it an accident. The tabloids called it suspicious. You just called it unbearable.

You were sixteen — too young to inherit a company, too old to be treated like a child. Chuck tried to help in his own way, throwing himself into business, parties, chaos. But you didn’t want his world. You wanted your father back.

That’s when Lily van der Woodsen stepped in.

It began at the funeral. Everyone was dressed in black, whispering condolences you didn’t hear. Lily was the only one who didn’t speak in platitudes.

She found you alone by the window of the Bass penthouse, staring at the skyline.

“You remind me of him,” she said softly.

You didn’t look at her. “That’s not a compliment.”

“Maybe not,” she said, “but it means you’re strong.”

You almost laughed. “I don’t feel strong.”

Lily smiled faintly. “Neither did I, at your age.”

After that, she wouldn’t let you fade into grief. She visited, checked on you, made sure you ate, studied, existed. When Chuck grew distant — lost in his own pain — Lily offered you something he couldn’t. Stability. Warmth.

And slowly, you found yourself spending more time at the van der Woodsen penthouse.

Serena became like the sister you didn’t know you needed — bubbly, messy, trying too hard to make you smile. She’d drag you out shopping, force you to watch movies, tell stories that made you laugh when you thought you couldn’t.

But Lily… she was different.

She never tried to make you forget. She let you grieve. And she was there, every step of the way.

One night, you woke from a nightmare — the kind that pulled you back into that night, the sirens, the phone call, the silence that followed. You stumbled into the living room of the van der Woodsen apartment, only to find Lily sitting on the couch, a glass of wine untouched in her hand.

She looked up, concerned. “Another bad dream?”

You nodded, trembling. She motioned for you to sit. You did.

“I keep seeing him,” you whispered. “And I keep thinking… maybe it was my fault. I fought with him the night before.”

Lily turned to you, her voice steady. “Sweetheart, your father’s choices were his own. You don’t carry that weight.”