Isabelle's heart was light as a feather, brimming with joy. Her hard work had finally borne fruit; her art had touched souls, and the admiration she received was a testament to her talent. She vowed to herself that she would continue this path, determined to build a brilliant future from her passion.
Upon returning home, she was met with an unexpected sight. The dining table was elegantly set, and a delicious feast had already been prepared. Madam Mary and Florence were seated, waiting for her.
"Isabelle, my dear," Madam Mary called out, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Come join us for dinner. We are waiting for you."
Isabelle stood frozen in shock. This was unheard of. In this house, she had always eaten alone, like a servant, hidden away from the family. Never once had they invited her to sit at their table.
Her eyes darted to the head of the table, and her heart leaped. Her father was home! A warm smile spread across her face. She walked over happily.
"Welcome back, Dad." She greeted him respectfully.
He patted her head gently, a rare look of affection in his eyes. "Isabelle, how was your work? How did the exhibition go?"
"Oh, it was amazing!" she beamed. "People loved my pieces. They said they would contact me later for more commissions. I think I'm going to be very busy from now on."
"That's my girl," her father said proudly. "I always knew you were born for this. You have a natural gift, and you can achieve anything you set your mind to."
"Thank you so much, Dad!" Isabelle's heart swelled with happiness, feeling a glimmer of the warmth she had always craved.
"Oh, my dear, come sit quickly!" Madam Mary urged with exaggerated concern. "You must be absolutely famished after such a long day."
Isabelle hesitated, her voice soft but firm. "I am not hungry."
"Oh, nonsense!" Madam Mary insisted, her smile tight and forced. "You have just returned home. How can you not be hungry? Or have you already eaten out?"
"No," Isabelle replied quietly.
"Then you will sit and eat," her father commanded gently. "I insist."
"Very well," Isabelle sighed, taking her seat. "I will eat since you ask me to."
As they began their meal, Madam Mary personally served a dish laden with rich seafood, placing a generous portion onto Isabelle's plate. "Here, my dear, try this. It is exquisite."
Isabelle looked at the food, her expression turning to one of pure revulsion. She pushed the plate slightly away.
"I cannot eat this," she stated clearly. "I am allergic to shrimp. I do not consume seafood at all."
Madam Mary froze, her eyes widening in feigned shock.
Immediately, her father's face darkened with anger. He slammed his hand lightly on the table, his voice rising.
"Mary! How can you not know what she is allergic to?" he demanded furiously. "She has never eaten seafood! It is strictly forbidden for her! Who gave you permission to prepare such a dish?"
"Oh, I am so sorry, my dear!" Madam Mary exclaimed, her voice dripping with feigned regret. "It must have simply slipped my mind entirely. Please forgive me. I assure you, such negligence shall never occur again."
She cast a fleeting glance at Isabella, her eyes flashing with undisguised disgust, but the moment her husband, Mr. Harrison, turned his gaze upon her, she quickly plastered a nervous smile onto her face, masking the venom in her tone.
Suddenly, Mr. Harrison turned his attention to his daughter. "Isabella… Isabella," he called gently. "You are now of age, my child. Tell me… do you have anyone special in your heart? Or would you object if I were to introduce you to someone suitable?"
The question caught Isabella completely off guard. She choked on her food, coughing violently in shock.
"Oh! That…" she gasped, waving her hands frantically. "Please, stop! I do not wish to hear about this!"
"Oh, my dear, I was merely joking!" her father laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension. "And you took it so seriously! Never mind, then. When the time is destined, you shall surely meet the one who is right for you."
"Thank you, Dad," Isabella replied softly.
Meanwhile, Florence sat seething in silence at the other end of the table. Her heart burned with jealousy, for her father did not even cast a single glance in her direction. Throughout the entire meal, not a word was spoken to her. It was as if she were invisible, a mere shadow in the room, while all the attention and affection were lavished solely upon Isabella.
She glared at her stepsister with eyes full of loathing and contempt. Just you wait, she thought bitterly to herself as she viciously stabbed the fish on her plate with her fork. If our plan succeeds, we'll see if you can still act so innocent. Everything that belongs to you will be mine. From then onward, I shall take them all.