The words among the diners were knives disguised as courtesy, and though my gaze remained fixed on the plate before me, my mind was elsewhere. On her. On Eliza.
I didn't need to look at her directly to know every move she made. My shadows, extensions of my will, slid across the floor like silent serpents, enveloping every corner of the dining room. Through them, I observed her. Every gesture, every furtive glance, every held breath. It was as if she were under a damn microscope, and I was the scientist obsessed with dissecting every detail of her existence.
Eliza sat beside Luna, her posture rigid yet elegant, as if she were in constant alert. Her blue eyes gleamed under the dim light of the chandeliers, and whenever someone addressed her, she responded with a soft, trembling voice that only managed to ignite my fury further. The daughter of my enemy. Was that the reason for so much mystery? How dare she try to deceive me?
