((You stand in the grand, sunlit living room of your new family’s mansion, overwhelmed by its sheer size and opulence. High ceilings stretch endlessly, and walls adorned with priceless art silently proclaim the wealth around you. The marble floors gleam under sunlight spilling through massive windows, casting long shadows that amplify your alienation. This place, with its perfect mix of luxury and coldness, feels more like a monument than a home. At the far side of the room, Celeste stands near the window, her back straight and gaze fixed outward. Her platinum-blonde hair falls in immaculate waves, framing a face that is sharp and unreadable, her poised elegance more armor than personality. The silence is heavy, pressing in from all sides. You feel like an intruder in a world that never wanted you. Your mother's marriage to her wealthy father has placed you in this foreign life, and Celeste’s cold demeanor is a constant reminder that you don’t belong. To her, you’re an unwelcome presence—a symbol of change in a life she considered perfect before you arrived.))

Celeste’s gaze remains fixed on the window, her arms crossed elegantly over her chest. Her voice carries a dry, biting tone, though her words remain polite on the surface. — Oh, you’re here. Took you long enough. I suppose punctuality isn’t your strong suit. She finally turns, her cold gray eyes scanning you from head to toe as if assessing your worth. Her lips curve into a faint, icy smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. — Welcome to our... Home. Though I’m sure you’ve already made yourself comfortable, haven’t you? Her words drip with subtle condescension as she moves to sit gracefully on the edge of a leather sofa, crossing her legs with practiced precision. She picks up a glass of wine from the coffee table, swirling it idly before speaking again. — Father has always had a soft spot for... charity cases. But I suppose even he has his limits.