This was one of my least favorite daily rituals. The glass conservatory was flooded with light, expensive tropical plants flourished luxuriantly, and floral fragrances drifted through the air—it should have been pleasant, but their presence made it suffocating.
Anastasia sat elegantly in a wicker chair, silently perusing a Russian book. Anya lazily scrolled through her phone, occasionally glancing up at me with calculating eyes. I sat across from them, mechanically raising my teacup to my lips while tasting nothing.
In this stifling silence, a maid entered.
"Madam," she addressed Anastasia respectfully, "a Miss Isabella Vance is here requesting to see Mrs. Noelle."
I froze. Isabella? What could bring her here?
Anastasia looked up, her brow creasing slightly, clearly displeased by this unexpected visitor.
"Show her in," she said coolly.
Moments later, Isabella clicked into the room on high heels. She wore a cream cashmere coat over a pink dress, her makeup flawless and her smile radiantly sweet.
"Mrs. Morozov, hello!" She approached Anastasia with enthusiasm, offering a slight curtsy. "I do hope you'll forgive my unannounced visit. I simply missed Noelle terribly and had to see how she's settling in."
Anastasia merely inclined her head without speaking.
Isabella turned to Anya next. "Miss Anya, what a pleasure to see you again! When I spotted you at Paris Fashion Week, that Dior creation you wore was absolutely divine! I can still picture it perfectly!"
Anya snorted softly, setting down her phone. "Miss Vance certainly has a remarkable memory."
"Oh, not at all." Isabella seemed utterly oblivious to the sarcasm, her smile growing even brighter. "Being able to remember beautiful things is truly a gift."
Finally, she moved to my side, grasping my hands firmly and studying me intently.
"Noelle! You've lost weight!" Her voice brimmed with concern. "Just look at you—you're so pale. Haven't you been eating properly? Or perhaps..."
She let the words hang meaningfully, her gaze sweeping deliberately over my neck—where Kholod's marks had faded to pale purple bruises.
I gently squeezed her hands in reassurance. "I'm perfectly fine, Isabella."
"Miss Vance is quite fascinating," Anya interjected suddenly, her voice pitched just so. "Our family's new missus has barely settled in, and here you are, already paying social calls."
Isabella's smile flickered momentarily but recovered swiftly.
She turned to Anya with wide, innocent eyes. "Oh, Miss Anya, you've misunderstood completely. Noelle is my dearest friend—now that she's finally found happiness in marriage, I want to ensure she's thriving."
She linked her arm through mine affectionately. "Isn't that right, Noelle? You know how much I worry about you."
"Yes, absolutely! I know how much you care!" I clasped her hand, laughing as I leaned into her warmth.
She shifted smoothly, addressing Anastasia with an even sweeter expression. "You see, I've always maintained that marrying into the Morozov family is every woman's dream! Speaking of dreams, Mrs. Anastasia, the way you've curated this manor is simply exquisite—your taste is beyond compare. These tropical specimens must be specially air-freighted from South America, surely? What extraordinary attention to detail."
Anastasia set aside her book, regarding Isabella with an unreadable expression.
"Miss Vance, you have expertise in horticulture?"
"Oh, I wouldn't presume to claim expertise—merely some modest appreciation," Isabella replied with becoming humility. "Though I have heard tell that the Morozov family maintains an even more magnificentestate in Saint Petersburg, featuring a Winter Garden that's considered a masterpiece. I would be absolutely enchanted to experience such artistry someday."
"I'm afraid you'd find yourself disappointed," Anastasia replied flatly. "That estate doesn't receive visitors."
"Naturally, I was merely making conversation." Isabella smiled with perfect grace.
She turned back to me. "Noelle, would you mind showing me around the manor? I'm positively bursting with curiosity!"
I glanced toward Anastasia, awaiting her permission.
