The long dining table gleamed under the golden chandelier, filled with delicacies prepared by the best chefs in the city. Silver cutlery clinked softly, servants moved discreetly in the background, and the Iyke family sat in their usual places, as though nothing in the world could disturb this perfect scene.
But Isabella knew better.
Every detail felt surreal—the sound of her mother's gentle laugh, the warmth of the food, the quiet bickering between her brothers. She had lost all of this once before, and the memory of that loss made her grip her fork tighter.
"Isabella," her father's deep voice cut through her thoughts. Lord Adrian Iyke was a man of power, his sharp eyes always assessing, his presence commanding respect. "Why are you so quiet tonight?"
In her past life, she would have flinched under that gaze, nervous and unsure. But now… now she lifted her chin and met his eyes steadily.
"I was just… grateful," she said softly. "To be here. With all of you."
Her mother blinked in surprise. "Grateful?" Evelyn smiled warmly, though she studied her daughter with curiosity. "My dear, you've never been this sentimental before."
Marcus chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "What's this? Did our pampered princess finally realize how good she has it?"
Damian gave him a sharp look, always the more serious of the two brothers. "Don't tease her. Isabella's allowed to feel however she wants." His gaze lingered on her longer than usual, as though sensing something was different.
Isabella's heart tightened. In her past life, Damian had been the one who saw through lies, the one who had tried—too late—to warn her of betrayal. And Marcus… Marcus had paid dearly for standing by her side when everything fell apart.
Not this time.
This time, she would shield them all.
"I just realized," Isabella said calmly, smiling at both of her brothers, "that I don't say it enough. I appreciate you."
Marcus nearly choked on his drink. "What did you just say? Is this really my sister?"
Her mother laughed lightly, while Damian's eyes narrowed with quiet suspicion.
Lord Adrian cleared his throat, setting down his glass. "It's good to hear such words, Isabella. You're growing up."
If only you knew, Father, she thought. This time, I will not be your foolish daughter. I will be your sharpest weapon.
As the family continued their meal, Isabella sat silently, her expression serene. But in her heart, she had already begun to plan.
The warm laughter at the table was a fragile treasure—one she would protect at all costs.
And for those who had once torn it away from her… their reckoning would come.