Layla slammed her fork down against her plate with a sharp clang that cut through the dining room like a warning shot.
Her eyes snapped to Father, burning with disbelief.
"What is this nonsense you're talking about, Father?" she demanded. "What girlfriend?"
Father didn't even blink.
"Not girlfriend," he corrected coldly. "Fiancée."
The word landed heavily in the air, deliberate and final.
Across from him, Seraphina only smiled.
She didn't explain herself. She didn't defend herself. She simply sat there with an unnerving calmness, as if the chaos unfolding around her had nothing to do with her at all.
As if she was merely observing a play she already knew the ending to.
I kept my gaze lowered, I knew the only reason I was sitted on this table was because of his fiancée, for appearances of course.
I knew he wasn't done with me.
I didn't dare speak.
Instead, I quietly continued eating, forcing each bite down while my mind stayed alert, tracking every shift in tone, every change in expression. I wasn't part of this conversation.
I was simply surviving it.
Marcus pushed his chair back slightly, as though preparing to leave, but Father's voice snapped across the table instantly.
"Sit."
It wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Marcus froze mid-motion, then reluctantly lowered himself back into the chair. The scrape of wood against marble echoed faintly in the silence that followed.
Layla leaned forward, her hands tightening around the edge of the table.
Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with fury.
"After our mother died in that accident, you promised you would stay with us forever," she said sharply. "You swore you wouldn't marry again. You said we were enough."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Seraphina, disgust sharpening her expression.
"And then after just one year… you brought home that woman," she said, her voice breaking slightly under anger. "And now this? Another one? When does it end?"
Her hand struck the table again.
"I am not interested in getting another sibling. Ivy is already a pain in the ass."
The moment the words left her mouth, the atmosphere shifted violently.
Father's hand slammed down against the table with a force that made the dishes tremble.
"Enough!"
The room went completely silent.
Even breathing felt dangerous.
Father stood, towering over the table, his presence filling every corner of the room like a suffocating weight.
His voice dropped into something colder, more controlled, but far more dangerous.
"Brace yourselves," he said. "Mrs. Seraphina here will be your stepmother. And I expect her to be treated with the same respect you give me. Understood?"
Silence stretched.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Unforgiving.
His eyes moved slowly from Layla to Marcus… then finally to me.
"I said, do you understand?"
"…Yes, Father," I whispered.
Seraphina tilted her head slightly at that moment, her smile softening just enough to appear almost kind.
"It's fine, darling," she said gently, turning her gaze to Father. "You know it won't be easy with the children."
The word children detonated something in Layla.
She shot up from her seat so fast her chair nearly fell backward.
"Children?!" she snapped. "I might be older than you, lady, so watch your mouth!"
Seraphina's expression didn't change.
No anger.
No surprise.
No offense.
Only that same calm smile,quiet, measured, unreadable.
And somehow, that was worse than any reaction she could have given.
Layla scoffed sharply, grabbing her things.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered, storming away from the table. Her footsteps echoed down the hall as she left the dining room.
Father immediately followed her, his voice rising as he called her name, threatening punishment, demanding obedience.
Marcus exhaled quietly, already distancing himself from the situation.
"I'll leave too," he said flatly, pushing his chair back and walking out without waiting for permission.
And just like that the room emptied.
Leaving only me.
And her.
The silence between us felt unnatural now, heavier than before. I stayed seated for a moment longer, staring at her across the table.
She was still eating.
Slowly.
Elegantly.
Like nothing in the world had the power to disturb her appetite.
And I tried.
I truly tried.
To understand her.
To place her.
To find something—anything—that felt human or familiar.
But there was nothing.
She didn't fit into anything I knew.
It was as if she existed slightly outside the world I lived in.
A few minutes later, Father returned.
His expression had shifted back into control, as though the outburst never happened.
"Don't mind the kids," he said lightly, his voice softer now as he turned to Seraphina. "They'll adjust."
He leaned down and kissed her cheek.
Seraphina accepted it without hesitation.
"It's fine, darling," she replied calmly, dabbing her lips with a napkin as though she had just finished a routine conversation.
Then Father's attention snapped to me.
"Ivy!"
I flinched slightly.
"Don't just stand there like a fool. Show her around."
Before I could respond, Seraphina tilted her head, her voice light but precise.
"Oh darling, that was harsh," she said, looking at him. "Isn't she your daughter?"
A pause.
Just a fraction of a second.
Then Father replied, almost dismissively.
"Well… you could call her that."
The words hit like something colder than insult.
Indifference!
I lowered my gaze immediately, my fingers tightening slightly at my sides.
Father exhaled, already moving past it.
"I need to set things in motion," he muttered. "Ivy has some explaining to do this week. I'll arrange everything for the clan so they're comfortable enough not to ask unnecessary questions."
And just like that, he left.
His footsteps faded down the corridor, taking the authority of the room with him.
The silence that remained felt sharper now.
Seraphina stood slowly.
Her movements were graceful like she had all the time in the world.
"Show me around, Ivy," she said softly.
I swallowed and nodded, standing up.
My legs felt slightly unsteady as I almost moved behind her.
But before I could fully move ahead, she stopped me again.
"You should walk in front," she said gently. "You're the one showing me around, aren't you?"
I hesitated just for a second.
Then nervously nodded as I stepped forward.
With her following behind me quietly.
Like she already owned the house I was still trying to survive in.
*****
I led her through the mansion.
"This is the east wing," I said softly, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Guest rooms are down that hall… and the study is just past the second turn. Father rarely allows anyone inside unless it's important."
Seraphina moved beside me with slow, deliberate grace, her eyes drifting over everything like she wasn't just seeing the mansion, but studying it.
She paused briefly near a tall arched window where moonlight spilled in, her expression shifting for a fraction of a second, almost thoughtful, almost… pleased.
That was when I noticed movement.
Across the corridor, partially hidden behind heavy curtains, Layla stood at an upstairs window.
She was watching us.
Even from below, I could see the tension in her posture, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched, her hands pressed against the glass like she wanted to break through it.
Her face was twisted with anger, eyes fixed on Seraphina like she was barely holding herself back from exploding. Fuming didn't even feel like a strong enough word for it.
I quickly looked away.
We kept walking.
The silence between Seraphina and me stretched again, but it wasn't uncomfortable for her. For me, it felt like walking on a wire I couldn't see.
We turned to another corner, passing another row of locked doors, when she finally spoke.
"So…" her voice was calm, almost curious, "what popular video has your father been talking about?"