"Serena, come have breakfast," Old Mr. Lancaster said, putting down his newspaper and waving her over.

He smiled, his voice carrying a pointed warning meant for someone else. "Don't you worry, Serena. In this house, no one will ever be more important than you."

Serena walked toward the dining table.

As she passed the sofa, she paused for a moment.

With a raised eyebrow, she looked down at Isabella with a cool, condescending indifference.

Her lips curled into a smirk that deepened with derision. "A fever of 102.5, slight crackling in the lungs... Tsk. Nice try with the damsel in distress act. But all it did was hurt you. Stupid."

Isabella shrank back, feeling as if she had nowhere to hide under that piercing gaze.

Her face was pale as she avoided Serena's eyes, her voice low and hoarse. "I-I didn't..."

"If you want to stay, then stay," Serena said flatly. "But while you're 'recovering,' you'd better behave."

She leaned in slightly, her regal and imposing aura pressing down on Isabella like a physical weight.

Serena's smile only grew wider. "Of course, if you want to pull any more stunts, I have a hundred ways to make your illness much more believable... and much longer-lasting."

Every word stabbed into Isabella's heart.

Her face went deathly pale, her body stiffening in fear as she stared at Serena. She bit her lip, not daring to make a sound.

"Well, well, if it isn't our most delicate little flower?" Black Jack cooed, sauntering down from the second floor with a lollipop in her mouth and a mane of fiery red waves bouncing around her.

She circled the sofa, looking Isabella up and down.

The scrutiny made Isabella feel like a monkey in a zoo, on display for all to see.

She shrank into herself, her eyes growing redder.

Black Jack moved to Serena's side, draping an arm over her shoulder and grinning. "Serena, baby, I say we skip the whole 'recovering at home thing and just send her straight to a mental hospital. With self-hypnosis and play-acting skills like these, a regular hospital won't cubit."

Then, she turned to Isabella, whose face was now alternating between pale and fivid. Black Jack flashed a devastatingly beautiful smile. "Little drama queen, next time you want to fake an illness, you should call me. I've got some connections in Elyndor I know a few people in the funeral business. I can get you a* discount, even book the full package in advance. I guarantee your

performance will be even more

convincing than this one. Get it all

done in one go, so much more

efficient, don't you think?"

Black Jack's words were a blatant, public mockery, laying bare the fact that Isabella had intentionally made herself sick.

Yet, even though her words were dripping with sarcasm, her tone and expression

were so sincere that no one could accuse her of being malicious.

It was as if she was genuinely offering Isabella heartfelt advice.

Isabella's face flushed a deep red with shame and humiliation. She mumbled in a wounded tone, "I-I didn't..."

Black Jack made a face at her, then hooked an arm through Serena's, leading her toward the dining table.

Isabella's face grew even redder. She tried to explain in a raspy voice, “I really didn't, I don't know how..."

But the two women ahead, arms linked, didn't even bother to glance back, completely uninterested in her excuses.

Furious tears welled up in Isabella's eyes. She looked at Catherine, her voice choked with hurt. "Mother..."

Catherine glanced at the pitiably

crying girl and sighed. "Isabella, go back to your room and get some rest. Since I promised your grandparents would let you stay, I on't send you away. Just focus on getting better."