CHAPTER 84 — COLLIDING WORLDS The morning light streamed cold and harsh across the Westwood estate, illuminating every corner of the grand dining hall. The long table was set for breakfast, but the tension was thick enough to suffocate. Sienna walked in with measured steps, heels clicking softly, eyes scanning the room. She saw it all—the subtle shifts of posture, the narrowed eyes, the invisible weapons of judgment aimed at her. Eleanor’s lips were pressed thin. Isabelle’s gaze was sharp, calculating, almost predatory. Charles and S. Westwood exchanged quiet whispers across the table, casting glances that screamed disapproval. Even Damien, sitting beside her, was tense, jaw tight, eyes flicking from her to the others. “Sit,” he murmured quietly, nodding toward the chair opposite him. She obeyed, settling into the seat with deliberate poise. The room felt like a battlefield, the silence punctuated by the clink of cutlery and the low hum of the staff. Vanessa, as always, seized t
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