New York City glittered beneath the balcony.
Neon lights, endless traffic, and towering buildings stretched as far as the eye could see—alive, loud, and indifferent. Isabelle Foyer stood alone against the railing of a five-star hotel, a crystal glass of red wine resting lightly between her fingers.
Her hair was swept into a flawless bun. Her silk robe hugged her figure elegantly. Not a single trace of age marred her beauty.
Time had been kind to her.
The sharp ring of her phone shattered the calm.
Isabelle glanced at the screen—and frowned.
She answered immediately, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"Are you stupid?" she hissed. "Calling my personal number at this hour? Do you want to get caught? I'm with my husband."
A man's voice responded from the other end—low, tense.
"We have an emergency. The plan failed. I'm sorry, Madam."
Isabelle's fingers tightened around the glass.
"Failed?" she repeated softly.
Her red nails dug into her palm as the wine trembled.
"What do you mean… failed?"
There was a brief pause before the man spoke again, clearly bracing himself.
"The engagement went smoothly. The old master is pleased. And… she didn't drink the tea."
The glass nearly shattered.
"NO!"
The scream tore from Isabelle's throat, sharp and feral.
"You useless piece of trash," she snarled. "I ordered you to make sure she drank it. I told you to drug her so she would lose control—so she would embarrass herself in front of everyone."
Silence.
Then, carefully, "The young miss has been… different since the hospital. Calm. Collected. Even when I tried to provoke her, she ignored it."
Isabelle's eyes narrowed.
She moved closer to the railing, staring down at the city like it was something she could crush beneath her heel.
"So tell me," she said coldly, "is she pretending? Or is she already suspecting you?"
"No, Madam," Alfred replied. "It looked… genuine."
Isabelle laughed.
A low, mocking sound.
"Genuine?" she scoffed. "That spoiled brat doesn't know the meaning of the word. She's acting. She always is."
Her lips curved into a cruel smile.
"She wants the old man's favor back. But before that engagement becomes official, we move faster."
Her voice dropped further.
"Continue giving her the drugs. Increase the dosage if you have to. I don't care if she loses her mind."
She chuckled softly.
"If she goes insane, we'll just put her in an institution. Much cleaner than ruining her reputation publicly."
Alfred hesitated. "Madam… there's another issue. Her maid—Anne. She's watching me."
Isabelle's smile vanished.
"Then remove her."
There was no hesitation in her tone.
"Kill her, and the problem disappears."
A pause.
"Oh nevermind, I'll handle her myself," Isabelle added coolly. "I want to see the look on that girl's face when she loses the only person who stands by her."
She exhaled slowly.
"We'll be back in two days—with my daughter. Make sure everything is perfect. Keep feeding her the drugs."
"Yes, Madam."
The call ended.
Isabelle stared out at the city once more—
—and stiffened as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
She turned sharply.
Themoteo La Roche stood there, wearing a matching robe, his expression warm and affectionate.
"How long have you been here?" she asked quickly.
He smiled. "Just now. You'd already hung up. Who were you talking to?"
Relief washed over her features instantly.
"Butler Alfred," she said smoothly. "I was checking on the preparations at home. I don't want any mistakes when we return… especially after missing Thea's engagement."
She lowered her gaze, eyes glistening just enough.
"Do you think she's angry with us?"
Themoteo sighed, guilt flashing across his face.
"This is my fault. I shouldn't have taken you abroad with me," he said gently. "My eldest daughter must hate me for it."
Isabelle shook her head quickly, pressing closer.
"No, darling. Don't blame her. I know she dislikes me… but I only want peace in this family."
He lifted her chin, his eyes soft.
"I'm lucky to have you, Isabelle. You endure so much from her, yet you always respond with kindness."
She smiled sweetly.
If only he knew.
Isabelle Foyer—the nation's beloved diamond actress, Asia's gentle goddess—was flawless in public. In private, she was something else entirely.
After Thea's birthday, Isabelle had begged Themoteo to travel abroad to check on their youngest daughter, Elizabeth. She claimed the girl hadn't answered her phone in days.
It was a lie.
The real purpose was simple:Remove Themoteo from Thea's engagement.Aggravate the fracture between father and daughter.
And for years, it had worked perfectly.
But now…
Something had changed.
She leaned into her husband's arms, sighing softly.
"Our Elizabeth…" she murmured. "She's jealous, you know. Your father dotes on Thea so much. Sometimes I worry he's forgotten he has another granddaughter."
Themoteo frowned.
"That old man…" he muttered. "He spoiled Thea too much. Don't worry—I'll speak to him."
Isabelle's smile widened—hidden against his chest.
"Oh, that would make Elizabeth so happy," she said tenderly.
Themoteo hugged her tighter. "You're too kind."
Behind his back, Isabelle's eyes turned cold.
When he finally turned away, heading back inside, her gentle expression vanished.
She watched him go.
And whispered softly to herself—
"Teo… you're still an idiot. Just like the first day I met you."