Chapter 2

Three days later, the air in Vane Manor's sprawling dining room was thick enough to choke on.

Elara sat at the far end of the long, opulent table – the place for the unwanted.

Her face was still paper-white, the tell-tale sign of anemia from all that blood loss, her lips drained of color.

She and Serena were discharged from the hospital just this morning.

The rest of the family piled into the waiting car and sped off, leaving Elara with nothing but a shared bike.

If Dante hadn't sensed something was off and doubled back for her, she might not even be here for dinner.

Yet, when they got home, her mother scolded her for not bringing Serena a recovery gift from the hospital.

Never mind that she was the one who'd had her blood drained for three days.

Elara’s heart finally turned to ash.

She wanted to explain, but the family just carried on, seating themselves and starting the meal, completely ignoring her.

Her father, at the head of the table, sliced into his medium-rare steak with silver cutlery.

He barked, his voice cold, "Why the long face? We're headed to the Hamptons for a month, a spot packed with A-listers. Don't bring down the Vane name with your sour act."

"She's just jealous Serena's bouncing back so well and gets to go to the yacht party," her brother Leo said, gently pouring Serena a glass of fresh juice.

"Serena's an angel sent by God. Some people are just meant to be leftovers. Haven't you found your place yet?"

Serena, in a white lace dress, looked fragile and pathetic.

She leaned weakly against Dante's shoulder, her voice a mere whisper, "Brother Leo, don't talk about her like that... It's my fault for being so sick all the time, for holding everyone back. It’s normal for Elara to be resentful."

Dante turned, trying to smooth things over for Elara.

"Alright, your sister's just tired." He then looked at Elara, his brow furrowed slightly. "How are you doing? Still dizzy?"

In her last life, a gesture like that would have meant the world to her.

But now, she just calmly pressed her lips together, saying nothing.

At that moment, Dante snapped his fingers.

"To celebrate Serena's recovery, I've prepared a surprise. Hope you like it!"

The next second, servants filed in, bringing out trays of exquisite, expensive dishes.

Suddenly, the dining room filled with the strong scent of seafood.

Lobster, king crab, oysters, sea urchin.

All top-tier deep-sea delicacies.

Elara stared at the mountain of plates before her. Her stomach churned violently, her throat tightening.

She was severely allergic to seafood – the kind that could trigger throat swelling, suffocation, and shock.

This wasn't a secret in this family. She'd nearly died once from accidentally eating some, and the housekeeper had to rush her to the hospital.

But all her family members acted as if they didn't notice, fussing over Serena.

Her father and mother kept piling seafood onto Serena's plate, the kind he liked. Her brother meticulously peeled lobster for Serena.

Then, a piece of peeled shrimp suddenly appeared on Elara's plate.

Elara glanced at Dante beside her. He smiled, nodding for her to eat.

She remained silent.

In her past life, it was this fake warmth that had kept her from letting go.

But if Dante truly loved her, how could he not know about her seafood allergy?

"What is it?" her mother asked impatiently, swirling the red wine in her glass.

"This is top-tier seafood Dante had flown in from Boston to celebrate Serena's recovery. Do you know what this meal costs? Don't be ungrateful."

Elara looked up, meeting Dante’s eyes, searching for a flicker of guilt.

"I'm allergic," she said calmly.

Dante nonchalantly peeled a shrimp, dipped it in sauce, and fed it to Serena, not looking back.

"Just pick around it. There's asparagus on the plate too. Don't be so picky, Elara. Serena just came back from the brink; her body needs protein. Everyone's making allowances for her, so you should be more considerate. Don't just think about yourself."

Pick around it?

Even vegetables brushed with seafood juice could be fatal. Did he truly not know, or did he just not care if she lived or died?

"Back then, I would have thought you were trying to kill me."

Elara put down her knife and fork, the metal clinking against the porcelain.

Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "But now I know you just don't care. In your eyes, I'm probably not even worth a single strand of Serena's hair."

The atmosphere at the table froze instantly.

Serena's eyes welled up, tears falling like broken strings of pearls.

She pushed Dante's hand away, crying dramatically, "It's all my fault… Dante, if Elara's this unhappy, if she hates us this much because of this meal, then I won't go to your wedding. I don't want Elara to hate you forever because of me."

This tactic – advancing by retreating – she'd used it countless times, and it always worked.

Dante's expression darkened instantly. He slammed the table hard, glaring fiercely at Elara.

"Elara! Look at what you've done to your sister! Apologize to Serena right now! You're not leaving this table!"

In her past life, Elara would have panicked, tried to explain, begged for forgiveness, maybe even choked down the poisoned asparagus just to appease him.

But now?

She calmly picked up her napkin, wiped her mouth, and stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor.

"No need."

Everyone watched her, seemingly waiting for her apology.

Elara looked directly into Dante's eyes, enunciating each word clearly as she declared, "You can cancel the wedding too. I don't care."

Dante froze. The anger in his eyes hadn't faded, but a never-before-seen bewilderment crept in.

It was as if, for the first time, he realized the fiancée who had always been meek and submissive was a stranger.

Serena clearly hadn't expected Elara to say that either. She bit her lip and asked weakly, "Sister… you don't mean that, right? This is the Rossi family engagement. Didn't you always dream of marrying Dante?"

Elara looked down at them, like watching a troupe of clumsy clowns performing a crude play.

"Yes, I was blind before. But now, I'm not interested."