The puppet and the strings
670 Words
The Moore board meeting was a theater of shadows and masks.
Aurora had never intended to attend—it wasn’t her place. But Grandfather Moore requested her presence with a formal note delivered by one of the house staff. And when Augustus Moore requested, no one refused.
She sat silently at the edge of the long conference table, her hands folded in her lap, her presence barely acknowledged by the room full of powerful men and perfectly groomed women. Across from her, Adrian sat beside his grandfather—silent, poised, unreadable.
“Let’s begin,” Augustus said, his voice commanding.
What followed was a blur of reports, profit margins, power plays disguised as strategy. But beneath the polished reports and courteous nods, Aurora sensed it: someone was pulling strings that didn’t belong to them.
Adrian hadn’t spoken until the final topic surfaced—a vote to restructure the inheritance order.
“We believe it’s time to pass responsibilities to someone more... capable,” said Elliott Moore, Adrian’s uncle, with a smooth voice and calculating smile.
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“You mean someone who can walk into a room without wheels?” he said coldly.
“Of course not,” Elliott said, raising his hands as if in peace. “We simply want what’s best for the company.”
“Which just happens to mean cutting me out,” Adrian replied.
Silence.
Aurora’s heart pounded as she watched the tension tighten like a noose.
Then, Grandfather Moore spoke. “The seat stays with Adrian. Anyone who wishes to challenge that can challenge me first.”
The room went still.
Elliott smiled tightly, his mask cracking only slightly. “As you wish, Father.”
The meeting ended quickly after that, but the damage had been done. Lines were drawn. Threats veiled. And Adrian had seen it all before.
---
Outside the boardroom, Aurora found him alone in the hall, staring at a painting of his great-grandfather—another Moore patriarch in a line of ruthless kings.
“They want to erase you,” she said.
“They already did,” he replied. “They just haven’t signed the papers yet.”
“Then fight back.”
He turned, surprised by the fire in her voice.
“Everyone thinks I married you because I was weak,” Aurora continued. “But I’ve never needed someone to save me. I just need someone who won’t let me fight alone.”
Adrian stared at her, then gave a small, bitter laugh. “Do you even realize what you’ve walked into?”
“Yes,” she said. “A family full of puppets and strings. But I’m not here to dance for anyone.”
He wheeled closer, his expression unreadable.
“You’re either incredibly brave,” he said softly, “or incredibly foolish.”
“Maybe both,” she replied.
---
That evening, as the sun bled gold through the tall windows of the estate, Aurora passed the main hall and overheard Elliott Moore speaking in hushed tones on the phone.
“She’s getting too close,” he whispered. “We need to move before the old man dies and the boy grows a backbone.”
Aurora’s blood chilled.
She backed away silently, returning to her room with trembling fingers and racing thoughts. The game was deeper than she’d realized.
This wasn’t just about power.
It was about survival.
And now, she was in the middle of it—with Adrian.
---
Later that night, she found him in the library again, pouring over company files and legal documents.
“Something’s coming,” she said quietly.
He looked up.
“They’re planning to strike. Soon. And I don’t think they care who gets crushed.”
Adrian stared at her for a long moment, then nodded.
“Then we fight,” he said simply.
Not as strangers.
Not as a broken heir and a discarded daughter.
But as two people learning to trust the only ally they had left—each other.
---
End of Chapter Eight
- Writer
