"Oh, I see." Isabella looked disappointed, then turned to me. "Well, Noelle, you rest up. We'll do the next event together."
I forced a smile. "Sure."
Dinner continued.
Isabella and Kholod chatted from charity auctions to Philadelphia social circle gossip. Their conversation buzzed around me, but I couldn't absorb a single word.
After dinner, I stood to return to my room.
"Noelle, wait," Anya called out.
I turned around.
She approached and lowered her voice. "Whatever's happening between you and Kholod, don't let Isabella come to this house anymore."
I froze, hurt welling up.
"But... I didn't invite her this time."
"What?" Anya frowned.
"Kholod invited her to stay," my voice carried bitterness. "Said she could stay as long as she wanted."
Anya's face changed.
Just then, Anastasia walked over.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Mother," Anya turned to her, "did you know Kholod invited Isabella to stay?"
Anastasia looked stunned, her expression complex.
"I didn't know." She looked at me. "Noelle, what happened?"
"That's what Isabella told me."
She fell silent for a moment.
"It seems," her voice was quiet, "Kholod is more confused than I thought."
She turned to me, her gaze serious. "Noelle, listen. Even though I'm not satisfied with you—your background, your family... none of it appeals to me. But compared to Isabella Vance, I'd rather accept you."
Her words shocked me.
"But Kholod..." my voice caught.
"Kholod is my son," Anastasia said, "but this is between you two. I won't interfere. Just remember your position—you're the lady of this house. That position is yours. Whatever happens, don't forget that."
I stayed silent. She sighed. "Go on, get some rest."
I nodded and headed upstairs.
Back in the master bedroom, I closed the door and leaned against it.
Kholod was gentle with Isabella, patient, even smiled.
With me...
