The envelope arrived just after noon.
It was thick. Cream-colored. Sealed with dark wax pressed into the shape of the Gryphon crest — sharp wings, curved talons, proud and arrogant.
Dante examined it before entering the study.
Izana sat at his desk, white blindfold smooth against his skin, posture composed. Leah sat near the window, sunlight pooling around her as she sorted through a small stack of folded scarves she had recently purchased.
"Boss," Dante said calmly. "An invitation."
Izana did not need to ask from whom.
"Gryphon?" he asked.
"Yes."
A pause.
"Bring it."
Dante placed the envelope on the desk. The wax seal remained unbroken.
Leah's fingers stilled.
She recognized that crest immediately.
Her shoulders tensed before she could stop herself.
Izana noticed.
He always did.
"Leah," he said quietly.
Her voice was soft. "It's from them, isn't it?"
"Yes."
She swallowed.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The room felt heavier.
Izana reached for the envelope, fingers breaking the seal with deliberate calm. The paper unfolded with a soft, precise sound.
Dante remained still.
Leah watched.
Izana read silently.
Then:
"A formal dinner invitation," he said evenly. "This weekend."
Leah's stomach tightened.
"That was fast."
"Yes."
He folded the letter once, thoughtfully.
"They wish to 'celebrate the alliance between our respected families' and 'welcome me properly as their son-in-law.'"
Leah almost laughed — but it came out thin.
"They didn't care about welcoming you before."
"No."
Silence settled between them.
Leah looked down at her hands.
"They know," she murmured.
"Yes."
Her voice trembled faintly. "Mrs. Han told them."
"Yes."
He did not sugarcoat it.
He did not soften it.
He didn't need to.
She inhaled slowly.
"They want to see us."
"Yes."
"To see how close we are."
"Yes."
Izana's tone remained calm, analytical — but there was a sharpness beneath it.
Leah stood and walked toward him slowly.
"Are you going to accept?" she asked.
He turned his face slightly toward her.
"What do you want?"
She hesitated.
That question would have terrified her once.
Now it grounded her.
"I don't want to hide," she admitted.
"And?"
"I don't want them to think they still control anything."
Izana's lips curved faintly.
"They do not."
"I know," she said quietly. "But I want them to see it."
A long pause.
He considered her breathing. The steadiness in it. The lack of shrinking.
This was not the same girl who had left the Gryphon estate.
She stood differently now.
He stood.
Dante subtly stepped back.
Izana reached for her hand — not to steady her.
To anchor.
"If we attend," he said calmly, "it will not be on their terms."
She looked up at him.
"They sent you to me for convenience," he continued. "For alliance. For disposal."
Her fingers tightened slightly.
"They miscalculated."
She exhaled.
"Yes."
"If we go," he said, "they will understand that you are not returned property."
Her throat tightened.
"And if we don't go?" she asked.
"They will assume distance."
Leah thought carefully.
"No," she said at last. "We should go."
Izana tilted his head slightly.
"Explain."
"I don't want them guessing," she said quietly. "I don't want them thinking I'm still afraid. Or that I'm… temporary."
He listened.
"I want them to see me beside you."
There it was.
Not behind.
Beside.
Izana reached up and brushed his fingers lightly against her jaw — brief, steady.
"They will," he said.
Dante cleared his throat subtly.
"Shall I send the acceptance, Boss?"
Izana did not look away from Leah.
"Yes."
"Formal reply?"
"Yes."
"And security?"
A pause.
Izana's voice cooled slightly.
"Discreet. But thorough."
"Yes, Boss."
Dante left the room silently.
The door closed.
Leah exhaled slowly.
Her pulse was faster now.
"It's going to be tense," she admitted.
"Yes."
"They'll try to test you."
"Yes."
She hesitated.
"They might try to test me too."
Izana's posture sharpened slightly.
"They won't succeed."
She smiled faintly.
"I know."
A quiet moment passed.
Then she asked softly,
"Do you regret going?"
"No."
"Even though they—."
"I do not avoid discomfort," he interrupted gently. "And I do not avoid people who underestimated you."
Her breath caught slightly.
He stepped closer.
"Let them see what they tried to discard."
Her eyes shimmered — not with fear.
With something steadier.
Pride.
—
Across the city, at the Gryphon estate, Mr. Gryphon folded his hands behind his back as a servant approached.
"The reply has arrived, sir."
Mrs. Gryphon stiffened.
"So quickly?"
The envelope was handed over.
Mr. Gryphon broke the seal.
His eyes scanned the letter.
"Well?" his wife demanded.
"He accepts."
Silence.
Mrs. Gryphon's lips thinned.
"And?"
"He thanks us for the invitation," Mr. Gryphon read evenly. "And states that he and his wife look forward to attending."
Wife.
The word still grated.
Mrs. Gryphon rose slowly.
"Then it's settled."
"Yes."
Mr. Gryphon's gaze darkened slightly.
"He responded immediately."
Mrs. Gryphon frowned.
"That suggests confidence."
"Yes."
Not hesitation.
Not reluctance.
Confidence.
"He wants to come," she realized.
"Yes."
Not because he needed to.
Because he chose to.
Mrs. Gryphon's fingers tightened against her dress.
"Then we prepare carefully."
"Yes."
"No missteps."
"No provocations."
"No remarks about her birth," she added firmly.
Mr. Gryphon's eyes flickered.
"Agreed."
"Not unless you wish to test his restraint."
A quiet silence followed.
Neither of them did.
Mrs. Gryphon turned toward the window.
"She was supposed to remain quiet."
Mr. Gryphon's voice was low.
"She still might."
But he did not sound convinced.
Mrs. Gryphon exhaled slowly.
"Prepare the formal dining room," she ordered a servant. "Full arrangement. No expense spared."
"Yes, madam."
As the staff dispersed, she turned back to her husband.
"We need to observe everything."
"We will."
"How she walks."
"Yes."
"How he looks at her."
"Yes."
"And whether she still lowers her eyes."
Mr. Gryphon's expression grew colder.
"If she does not," he said quietly, "then we have truly lost our leverage."
Mrs. Gryphon did not respond.
Because she already suspected the answer.
—
Back at Izana's mansion, evening settled quietly.
Leah stood once more before her wardrobe.
The pale blue dress hung in the center.
She touched it lightly.
"You're choosing," Izana observed from across the room.
"Yes."
"For the dinner?"
"Yes."
He walked toward her.
"Why that one?"
She smiled faintly.
"It was the first thing I bought that felt like me."
He considered that.
"Then wear it."
She looked up at him.
"You're not worried it's too soft?"
"No."
"Too gentle?"
"No."
His voice lowered slightly.
"Strength does not require harshness."
Her breath stilled.
"You don't want me to intimidate them?"
"I don't need you to."
There was something chillingly calm in the way he said it.
She laughed softly.
"You're going to intimidate them enough for both of us."
"Probably."
She turned back to the dress.
Her fingers no longer trembled when she touched it.
This wasn't the same house she had left.
This wasn't the same girl.
And this wouldn't be the same dinner.
Behind her, Izana stood silent and composed.
But his mind was already ten steps ahead.
Security routes.
Seating positions.
Exit timings.
Psychological responses.
He would let them host.
He would let them observe.
He would let them measure.
And then—
He would remind them exactly who their daughter stood beside.
Not as a discarded piece.
Not as a pawn.
But as his wife.
And this time—
The Gryphon family would see the miscalculation in person.