The very next morning Isadora took her time to pick out the dress she would wear. Tying her short hair in a tight bun in a way to elevate the features of her face.

She was done dressing up but for a long time she continued to stare at her face in the mirror almost like she was trying to take in every detail of her body before she finally looked away and headed out.

No maid came to wake her—something she had told Guila to ensure—relieved to have a quiet morning considering the night she had.

Her heart trembled in her chest as she moved past the corridor and straight towards the dining room with a soft smile on her face that didn’t reach her heart.

"You’ll apologize and do better," she told herself over and over again even as she moved closer to the door and pushed it open to enter.

Dante was already seated, and one glance at him made it clear that he had arrived much earlier and was already eating, almost done.

"At least he’s not going out of his way to completely avoid me," she thought to herself even as she moved closer to the chair right beside him and sat down with a light greeting.

Dante responded with a simple nod, continuing to eat his food with the same quiet precision, his focus unbroken, as though her presence made no difference.

Isadora felt a heavy weight settle over her, one she struggled to keep from crushing her into dust. Still, she slowly served herself, speaking before she began to eat.

"I’m sorry," her voice was soft like petals, so quiet that it barely reached the air—just enough that Dante would have no problem hearing her. She waited, expecting a word, even a small one, but all she got was another small nod before he returned to his food.

He didn’t even glance her way.

At that point Isadora quickly decided to lower her expectations to zero as she watched him continue to eat with barely any food left on his plate. It was clear that she only had seconds before he got up and left.

"What if he doesn’t return at night? I’m sure he has other estates," she thought, panic curling in her stomach. "There’s no reason for him to remain in this one."

Her heart beat fast as she opened her mouth again, daring to be audacious since there were clearly no options left.

"I was wrong. I know my role. I’ll take utmost care of my body," she said, her tone trembling even though she tried to sound calm. Again, she was ignored, like her words had vanished into the air.

Gritting her teeth tightly together, Isadora refused to stop. Her gaze stayed fixed on his cold, neutral expression as she continued, desperate to make him listen.

"I think having sex would be the best option," she said, doing her best to sound methodical, detached, as if she were discussing something purely practical.

"I did some research last night, and the procedures are far too cumbersome compared to the latter option. Also, I think it would be the best for the baby."

She held her gaze steady, but her heart nearly stopped when Dante finally turned to look directly at her.

Her hands froze on her lap, her chest tightening as his dark eyes locked onto hers—sharp, unreadable, weighing her in silence. Her pulse roared in her ears as she waited for him to speak.

When he finally did, she was relieved to hear his voice but not by what he said.

"I considered it," he said evenly, "and I don’t see a reason why I should go through the trouble of having sex with you if the chances of your survival are slim."

Confusion flashed across her face as she tried to make sense of his words.

"I fully intend to live... what the hell is he—" she thought, but before she could speak, Dante continued.

"We’ll discuss this again after a week, after you’ve met my family and on the wedding day," he told her, his tone colder than before, his eyes seeming to look right through her instead of at her.

He stood, his movements quiet but firm, making it clear that he was finished—both with his food and with the conversation.

Isadora heard the door close behind him, the sound echoing in the vast silence of the room. She sat there for several seconds before exhaling a long breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Slowly, she began to eat, her movements mechanical, the taste of food dull and meaningless.

Her thoughts drifted to Namira, the woman she had met who had offered her fifty million simply to get some information out of her.

"I’m sure the rest of his extended family are just as fun," she muttered bitterly, breathing out in frustration as she realized she would have to be on guard around them too. A frown slowly formed on her face as the weight of everything pressed in.

"Now I have to beg him to sleep with me and also guard against being killed by his family," she thought grimly, fully convinced that people like them—people that rich—were not against getting rid of anyone who got in their way.

She finished eating, still lost in thought, and got up the moment she was done. It didn’t surprise her to find Guila already waiting by the door, a clipboard in her hand as always.

"Your acting teacher takes precedence today," Guila said, her tone businesslike. "In two days, you’ll be taken to the set to join a historical drama that’s going to be released."

The words made Isadora’s heart skip.

"Your role isn’t important, but it’s memorable," Guila continued, flipping through her notes. "It’s a historical drama. You’re the sister of the female lead who is raped in her place and dies with grievance, protecting her sister by taking a poison pill."

The longer Guila spoke, the deeper Isadora’s brows furrowed, each word tightening the unease twisting in her chest.

"It’s a period drama," Guila added simply. "You’re in the first episode."

Isadora stood there quietly, trying to keep her composure, but the faint shiver that ran through her fingers betrayed her calm façade. Her new life in this house was only just beginning, but every step forward already felt like walking through fire.