Outside, in the Bennett Mansion's sprawling lawn, Rosiline sat with a porcelain teacup in hand, her gaze drifting lazily over the well-trimmed hedges swaying in the breeze. The morning air was crisp, serene—until her eyes caught the sight of Anna approaching.
Her brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her features. She set the cup down gently and kept her gaze fixed on her daughter until Anna finally stopped in front of her.
"I thought you rejected my invitation to join us for breakfast earlier," Rosiline said, her tone deceptively mild. "But now you're here. Is everything alright?"
Anna met her eyes for a long moment before exhaling softly. "I thought this house was still mine," she murmured, "irrespective of the circumstances under which you married me off."
Rosiline's lips pressed together, the faintest tremor passing through her expression. Then she forced a smile, careful and composed. "This house is still yours, Anna. You are my daughter. You can come here whenever you want."
"Yeah." Anna gave a humorless chuckle, her voice laced with quiet bitterness. "Funny, isn't it? How easily you say that now."
Rosiline stilled, her eyes narrowing slightly, watching her daughter take the seat across from her. The breeze rustled the leaves above them, but between mother and daughter, the air grew taut.
Hugo had reassured her last night—Anna hadn't dared bring up divorce to Daniel again. That knowledge had allowed Rosiline to breathe easier. Yet, seeing Anna return so suddenly, a chill of unease pricked at her chest.
There was something different about her. Something in her eyes—calm, sharp, steady—that Rosiline hadn't noticed before.
"So," Rosiline said carefully, folding her hands in her lap, "what brings you here today?"
Anna hesitated for a beat, her fingers brushing idly against the edge of the chair. Her mind reeled with the puzzle of Kathrine's disappearance, the unanswered questions gnawing at her.
But no. Not yet. She couldn't reveal it. Not until she was certain where her mother's loyalty lay.
Her gaze softened, but her silence stretched long enough for Rosiline to notice.
"Where is Kathrine, Mom?"
The question slipped out sharper than Anna intended, but she didn't retract it.
Rosiline's shoulders stiffened. Her teacup clinked faintly against the saucer. "H-How would I know?" she stammered, eyes darting away.
Anna didn't let her look escape. Her gaze was steady, unwavering, carrying a firmness Rosiline wasn't used to from her daughter.
"I just thought…" Anna's voice was deceptively calm. "Dad must have called for a search. After all, we can't just let her vanish like that."
That composure, that quiet conviction—it unsettled Rosiline. For a fleeting moment, panic flickered across her face. But she quickly schooled her features, forcing a scowl to mask the tremor in her chest.
"Why would your father waste his time searching for her?" Rosiline snapped. "She abandoned us. She left us humiliated. That was her choice."
Anna froze.
The words felt like a slap. All her life, Kathrine had been the golden child, the daughter Rosiline doted on, praised, and adored. To hear her speak with such bitterness now… it rattled Anna to her core.
'Was I wrong?'
Had she misjudged everything?
Anna's lips parted, then pressed into a thin line as she tried to cover her reaction. "I only thought Father would want to… confront her," she offered, feigning casualness.
But her heart churned. Something wasn't right.
Rosiline's expression hardened further. "We don't want anything to do with her anymore. Wherever she is, she should stay there. If she dares come back…" Her voice dropped, low and cold. "I don't know what your father might do."
Silence thickened between them, the weight of her words settling like lead.
Anna's hands tightened against her lap. She bit down on her tongue to stop herself from blurting out her disbelief.
This wasn't the Rosiline she remembered—the mother whose entire world revolved around Kathrine.
Yet her mother's harsh dismissal left Anna chilled, and though she forced herself to nod, inside, her suspicion only deepened.
Anna didn't bother to press her mother further. After spending some time in uneasy conversation, she finally returned to the Clafford estate.
Her body was tired, her mind drained, and all she wanted was to crawl into bed and shut everything out. But the moment she stepped into the hallway, a low, commanding voice sliced through the silence.
"Where have you been, Anna Clafford?"
Anna froze.
Her eyes widened before she slowly—carefully—turned her head.
Daniel sat sprawled across the long couch, one leg casually crossed over the other, his posture relaxed yet radiating authority. He looked like a king on his throne, waiting for her explanation.
Her breath hitched. He was supposed to be at work. Why was he here? Why now?
Before she could recover, Daniel rose to his feet. His strides were slow but deliberate, each step echoing against the polished floor until he stood directly in front of her.
His hands slid easily into his pockets, but his eyes—dark, penetrating—locked onto hers.
"Am I not clear enough?" His voice was calm, but the weight of it pressed down on her chest. "I asked you a question, Anna. Where have you been?"
Her pulse thudded painfully in her ears. The closer he stood, the harder it was to think. Her eyes—traitorous as always—lingered on the sharp lines of his face, the curve of his lips, the intensity in his gaze.
Anna, don't get swayed by this devil in disguise, she scolded herself, forcing her head high.
"What does it have to do with you?" she shot back, her tone sharp. "You leave for work without telling me. Have I ever asked where you go?"
Her words struck him harder than she realized.
For a split second, Daniel's composure faltered. Is she upset because I don't tell her where I go?
No. Impossible. Why would she care?
His features hardened again, concealing the flicker of doubt. He had wanted to confront her—to demand why she had been gone so long after his informant told him she left early from her meeting with Betty. But standing here, facing her defiance, he realized it was useless.
Her stubborn eyes told him she wouldn't yield.
With a sharp sigh, Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm the irritation clawing at him.
Anna watched warily, unsure whether his silence meant surrender or another storm brewing. She almost opened her mouth to provoke him further when Mariam's gentle voice cut through the tension.
"Master, lunch is ready."
Anna's ears perked up at the word lunch. Her eyes darted to Mariam, almost pleadingly, and for once she looked more innocent than rebellious.
"Okay. We'll come now," Daniel said smoothly, dismissing Mariam.
We?
Anna blinked. Where are we going? Who's this "we" he's talking about?
Before she could ask, his hand closed firmly around hers.
"Daniel—what are you doing? Let me go!" She struggled, but he ignored her protests, his grip steady, unyielding.
In silence, he led her through the west wing until they stepped out into the garden.
Anna stilled.
A table had been set under the shade of an oak, neatly laid with gleaming cutlery and dishes that filled the air with the rich aroma of freshly cooked food. Two chairs faced each other across the table.
Her lips parted in disbelief.
"Come. Let's eat," Daniel said, finally releasing her hand. His tone was casual, as though this were the most natural thing in the world.
But Anna remained rooted to the spot, her body refusing to move.
Because in that instant—looking at the carefully arranged table—a memory from her past life slammed into her.
The night she prepared a candlelight dinner for his birthday. She had spent hours perfecting every detail, cooking his favorite dishes, setting the table with hope in her trembling heart.
But Daniel never came home.
She had sat there alone, the candles burning down to nothing, the food growing cold, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
And now, staring at the table before her, Anna's chest constricted painfully.
Her lips trembled as the bitter memory pressed in—but just as quickly, Anna shoved it aside, forcing her composure back into place.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing on the man standing across from her.
"Are you… trying to impress me, Daniel?"
The words slipped out sharper than she intended, slicing through the quiet air between them.
For a fleeting second, Daniel's mask cracked. His brows lifted ever so slightly, his usually unreadable expression flickering in surprise.
But then, just as fast, he recovered.
His lips curved—not into a smile, but into something colder, something sharper. "And what if I am?"
The low timbre of his voice made Anna's heart skip before she scoffed, covering the hitch in her chest with defiance.
"You'd be wasting your time."
Her words fell like a stone between them, daring him to press further.
And yet Daniel only watched her, his dark eyes narrowing, as if trying to read the meaning buried in her stubborn tone.