We continued chatting about inconsequential matters—new handbag collections, shoes, upcoming social events...
Before departing, Isabella embraced me warmly.
Just as she began to pull away, she whispered almost inaudibly in my ear. "Darling, stay obedient and compliant—that's how you survive and thrive."
Then she released me, turning with practiced elegance to glide away.
I remained standing there, watching her silhouette vanish down the corridor.
At dinner, Kholod failed to appear. Only Anastasia, Anya, and I sat at the long table. The atmosphere remained as oppressive as ever. I mechanically cut the food on my plate while Isabella's words echoed relentlessly in my mind.
Suddenly, Anya set down her cutlery with a sharp clink and fixed me with a piercing stare.
"Keep your distance from that woman." Her voice was ice-cold, her gaze razor-sharp.
I startled, looking up at her in bewilderment.
"Excuse me?"
"Isabella Vance." Anya articulated each syllable with cutting precision. "Stay away from her. Right now, you're her most promising ladder for social advancement."
This unexpected warning left me completely off-balance. I glanced toward Anastasia, but she appeared entirely unsurprised and gave a slight, knowing nod.
My heart plummeted. They were warning me. But about what exactly? Were they alerting me to Isabella's hidden agenda? Or were they mocking me—suggesting that as the daughter of a fallen family, I was cut from the same cloth as social climbers like Isabella?
I kept my expression carefully neutral, simply lowering my gaze and murmuring quietly, "Okay, I understand. Thank you for the warning."
Anya's frown deepened, clearly taken aback by my subdued response.
"Do you truly get what I'm telling you?" she pressed.
"I do." I met her gaze with a polite smile. "I'll be appropriately cautious."
"You—" Anya started to continue, but Anastasia's voice cut through sharply.
"That's enough, Anya." She set down her wine glass with finality. "Maintain your composure."
Anya shot me one last resentful glare but fell silent.
Dinner concluded in heavy silence. I rose to excuse myself.
"Noelle." Anastasia's voice stopped me in my tracks.
I paused and turned back to face her.
She sipped her after-dinner wine with deliberate leisure, her voice calm yet carrying unmistakable authority. "Anya's words may be harsh, but you would be wise to heed them carefully."
She raised her eyes—those penetrating amber orbs so remarkably similar to Kholod's—meeting mine with newfound seriousness. "In this household, learning to distinguish genuine sentiment from calculated manipulation is your most essential survival skill."
"Yes, I understand completely."
Returning to my bedroom, I slumped against the closed door and released a long, shuddering breath. What an absolutely wretched day.
I drifted to the window, gazing out at the impenetrable darkness of the forest beyond. Snow continued its relentless descent, flake by flake, silently shrouding the world in white. Much like my existence—buried beneath accumulating layers of constraint and expectation.
I recalled Isabella's parting whisper, "Stay obedient and compliant."
Submission.
