The evening air carried a soft chill as Isabella's family prepared for dinner. The mansion's grand hall was even more magnificent under the warm glow of the chandeliers, each crystal reflecting light across the polished floors. Servants moved quietly, ensuring every place setting was perfect, the cutlery aligned with meticulous precision.
Christian glanced at Isabella, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Remember, Isabella, tonight is important," he said softly. "It's more than a dinner. Watch and listen."
She nodded, her stomach fluttering nervously. Important… yes, but why does it feel like more than just a family dinner?
Lucien Ashwell stood at the head of the table, exuding the calm authority that had unsettled her father earlier. The other guests arrived, filling the hall with polite greetings and soft laughter. The seating arrangements were precise, and Isabella's pulse quickened when she saw her assigned seat — directly beside Elijah.
That can't be a coincidence, she thought, adjusting her posture and forcing a polite smile.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and followed her family to their places. The weight of expectation in the room pressed down, the grandeur of the mansion making her feel both small and strangely exposed. Every subtle glance, every movement, seemed amplified under the chandeliers' glow.
As she sat down, Isabella reminded herself to focus on the conversation — to appear calm, polite, and composed. Yet, from the very first moment, her attention kept drifting to Elijah, who sat beside her with that same unreadable expression, calm yet commanding.
The conversation began lightly, but Isabella already felt the subtle undercurrent of tension — an invisible thread connecting them, drawing her into something she didn't yet understand.
And she had a feeling… tonight, nothing would be simple.