The Unthinkable

The Laurent penthouse was silent, save for the distant hum of the city below. The three of them sat on the sleek, white leather couch in the dimly lit living room, shadows stretching long against the marble floors. Kieran sat between his mother and sister, shoulders stiff, eyes flicking between them. Vivienne had been quiet ever since she’d returned from the board meeting, and now, the weight of whatever had transpired hung in the air like a storm about to break.

Kieran’s patience snapped first.

“So?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence. “What happened?”

Vivienne exhaled slowly, as if steadying herself. She folded her hands in her lap, her gaze unreadable. “I told them about you.”

Kieran’s stomach twisted. “What?”

“Both of you,” she clarified, looking at Celeste as well. “I told them Jean had two children.”

Celeste’s eyes narrowed. “You said he kept us private. Wouldn’t the board question that?”

“They did.” Vivienne’s lips pressed together for a moment before she continued. “They wanted to know why I was pushing so hard to keep leadership within the family, and who I was referring to specifically. They demanded to know why I was so insistent that someone other than an outsider take over. They didn’t trust me to lead simply because I was Jean’s wife. So, I told them about his children—about his heir.”

Kieran swallowed hard. Something about the way she said it made his skin prickle. “His heir. Singular?”

Vivienne finally looked at him directly, her blue eyes pinning him in place. “I told them Jean had two daughters.”

The room stood still.

Celeste inhaled sharply. Kieran, however, laughed—a short, incredulous bark of disbelief.

“Daughters? What the hell are you talking about?”

Vivienne didn’t flinch. “They would never accept a male heir, Kieran. The board was firm on that. Euphorica is built on the image of a woman’s world—a brand for women. They believe appointing a man leading it would be its downfall.”

“Then why the fuck was I destined to lead it?” Kieran’s voice rose. He leaned forward, running his hands through his dark, tousled hair. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached.

“Because you won’t be Kieran Laurent,” Vivienne said smoothly. “You’ll be Kiara.”

His mind blanked.

Silence rang in his ears as if the entire city outside had gone mute. Kieran’s lips parted, but no sound came out. The words didn’t compute. They couldn’t.

“What?” he whispered.

Celeste was staring at their mother, unblinking. Her expression was unreadable, but her fingers had curled against her knee, nails pressing into the fabric of her silk trousers.

Vivienne pressed on, voice calm but firm. “I told them Jean had two daughters, and that the younger one had been shadowing her father for years, preparing for this role.”

Kieran’s breath came quicker. “But I'm not—”

“Shh.” Vivienne lifted a hand, silencing him with a mere glance. “I said what I needed to say. What matters now is that they believed me.”

“Believed what?!” Kieran shot up from the couch, pacing in front of them. “That I’m—” He gestured wildly at himself. “That I’m a fucking woman? That’s insane! Mom, that’s insane.”

Vivienne watched him without emotion, as if she had expected this reaction and had already made peace with it. “It was the only way to keep the company within the family.”

“Oh, fuck the company!” Kieran’s voice cracked. “I’m not— I can’t—” He spun to Celeste, who had yet to say a word. “Say something!”

Celeste blinked, her icy blue gaze flickering toward their mother before settling on him. Slowly, she exhaled, leaning back into the couch.

“It makes sense,” she said simply.

Kieran reeled back as if she had slapped him. “Are you insane too?”

Celeste tilted her head slightly, her blonde waves falling over one shoulder. “Listen to her, Kieran. If she hadn’t done this, do you know what would have happened? They would have put someone else in charge. An outsider. A stranger.”

“Good!” Kieran shot back. “That’s what they want!”

“They want a woman, Kieran,” Vivienne corrected, standing gracefully. “And we’re giving them one.”

His pulse thundered in his ears. “No.”

“This is temporary,” she pressed, stepping toward him. “They will give you a probationary period. You go in as Kiara, prove you can lead, establish yourself, and once we have control, we change the rules.”

“You’re asking me to change my fucking gender, Mother!” Kieran snapped, eyes wild. “Do you hear yourself? Do you understand what you’re saying?”

Vivienne didn’t waver. “I understand that our entire family’s legacy—your legacy—is at stake. I understand that if we let go of Euphorica now, we will never get it back.”

Kieran shook his head. His chest was tight, his thoughts a storm of denial, panic, and sheer disbelief. “This is a joke. This has to be a fucking joke.”

Celeste was watching him carefully now, her expression shifting into something calculating.

“But it could work,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “You’re not exactly the most masculine guy, Kieran.”

His head snapped toward her, glare sharp enough to cut. “Oh, fuck you, Celeste.”

She only smirked.

Vivienne stepped closer, lowering her voice. “We’ll take care of everything. The styling. The training. The adjustments. You won’t be doing this alone.”

Kieran’s hands clenched into fists. “You planned this, didn’t you?” His voice was hoarse. “This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. You knew—”

“I made the decision today,” Vivienne cut in smoothly. “But I adapted. That’s what a leader does. And now, you will too.”

He turned away, chest heaving. He wanted to scream, to _break _something, to wake up from this nightmare and find himself back in a world where his mother hadn’t just asked him to become a woman.

Vivienne’s voice softened. “Kieran. This is our company. Our future. You were always meant to inherit it.”

“Not like this.”

“We don’t have another choice.”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Finally, he **** himself to breathe, turning back to face her.

“And if I say no?”

Vivienne met his gaze, unwavering. “Then we lose everything.”

The weight of her words crushed him. He looked between them—his mother’s poised certainty, Celeste’s intrigued curiosity, and his own reflection in the glass window behind them.

The truth was suffocating.

Because even as his body rejected the very thought of it, somewhere in the back of his mind…

He already knew his answer.

Kieran’s heart pounded as he paced the living room, his breath coming fast and shallow. His mother’s words still rang in his ears, circling his brain like a **** sentence. Kiara Laurent. The thought alone made his stomach churn. It wasn’t just ridiculous—it was impossible.

“Absolutely not.” His voice was raw, his body tense as he ran a hand through his dark, disheveled hair. “No. No fucking way.”

Vivienne remained seated, composed as ever, watching him with the patience of a seasoned chess player studying an opponent's moves. Celeste, on the other hand, was sitting cross-legged on the couch, fingers lightly tapping against her knee, watching Kieran unravel with something between amusement and mild concern.

“Kieran,” Vivienne began smoothly, “we’ve already discussed why—”

“No, we haven’t. We haven’t discussed why you’re making me do this,” he interrupted, spinning on his heel. His voice rose as he gestured wildly at Celeste. “You already have a daughter! Why not just let her do it?”

Celeste’s lips twitched upward, but she didn’t say anything. Vivienne, however, merely exhaled, as if she had been waiting for him to ask that very question.

“Kieran,” she said evenly, “Celeste has no knowledge of the business.”

“She doesn’t have to have knowledge!” He threw his arms up. “She just has to sit in a chair, look pretty, and nod in meetings while you and the executives do the actual work—I can coach her, if that’s what you’re worried about!”

Vivienne shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because Celeste has no experience,” Vivienne said, her voice taking on that sharp, clipped edge that signaled she was done entertaining nonsense. “She doesn’t understand the internal structure, the product pipeline, the supply chain, the partnerships. You do.”

Kieran’s jaw clenched.

“You spent years shadowing your father, secretly attending board meetings, reviewing expansion proposals, sitting in on R&D briefings,” Vivienne continued. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you are already well-versed in what it takes to lead Euphorica.”

He shook his head, refusing to accept it. “I wasn’t preparing to run the company, I was just—”

“Learning.” Vivienne cut him off. “Watching. Absorbing. Preparing, whether you realized it or not.” She folded her hands together and tilted her head. “If I put Celeste in that seat, it will be a disaster. The board won’t wait for her to get up to speed, and they certainly won’t wait for her to learn how to navigate corporate warfare. They will take everything from us before she even has a chance to blink.”

Celeste, to her credit, remained silent. If she was insulted, she didn’t show it. If anything, she seemed completely unsurprised.

Kieran scowled, turning to her. “And you’re okay with that?”

Celeste shrugged. “She’s right. I’d be a terrible CEO.”

“You wouldn’t even try?”

Celeste met his gaze, eyes unreadable. “No.”

Kieran’s hands clenched into fists. His last **** lifeline had been severed.

“I cannot believe this,” he muttered, pacing again. His head was spinning, his breath quickening. “You want me to— I mean, I can’t—” He turned back to his mother, voice trembling with fury. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you realize what you’re asking me to do?”

Vivienne sighed. “Kieran—”

“No, fuck you, Mom!” His voice cracked as he slammed his hand against the back of the couch. “Fuck you for putting me in this position, fuck you for coming up with this psychotic plan, and fuck you for acting like this is normal! This isn’t normal! You’re asking me to throw away my entire identity, to lie to the entire fucking world, and for what? Some company? Some brand?”

Vivienne’s eyes darkened.

And then, for the first time in years, she raised her voice.

“You watch your mouth when you speak to me, Kieran. And never disrespect your father's hard work like that ever again.”

The authority in her tone slammed into him like a freight train. Kieran actually flinched, thrown off balance. Vivienne never yelled. She never had to. Her words were usually sharp enough to cut without volume.

But now?

Now, she was staring him down with the full weight of her presence, her perfectly composed mask finally slipping.

Kieran was still catching his breath when she exhaled and softened her voice.

“This is not just about some company,” she said, slow and deliberate. “This is about our company. Your father’s company. Everything he built, everything he sacrificed—everything we have—will be gone if we don’t do this.”

Kieran swallowed hard.

She took a step closer. “Jean worked his entire life to make Euphorica what it is today. And yes, I was the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, but do you think it was easy for him to maintain that empire? Do you think it was easy for him to keep it at the top of the industry for decades? This isn’t just about money, Kieran.” She pressed a hand against her chest. “This is our legacy. Our family’s legacy. And if we lose it now, we will _never _get it back.”

His throat was dry.

He turned to Celeste, looking for some kind of reaction, some kind of anything, but for once, she wasn’t smirking. She wasn’t rolling her eyes. She was just watching their mother with a quiet sadness.

That was when it hit him.

This wasn’t just about him.

If he refused, his family would be left with nothing.

Celeste couldn't do it—she had no interest in the company, no desire to fight for its survival. But Vivienne? His mother had spent her entire life building this empire from the shadows, making sure it thrived.

And his father—

Jean Laurent had worked himself into the grave for Euphorica.

Kieran felt something heavy settle in his chest.

Vivienne stepped forward again, her gaze piercing. “This is bigger than you. This is bigger than all of us. It is about keeping what is ours.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

Then, finally, he exhaled, long and slow.

Vivienne reached out, smoothing a stray strand of hair from his face. Her touch was gentle, but her grip was firm as she cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“We will make this work,” she murmured. “We have to.”

Kieran didn’t respond.

He didn’t need to.

Because in that moment, as his mother wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a rare, warm embrace, he knew—

His fate had been sealed.

Kieran Laurent was dead.

Kiara Laurent was about to be born.