Dinner in the main dining room that night proceeded in an unusual atmosphere. On the long mahogany table, an array of delicious dishes, still steaming with savory aromas, filled the space. Honey-roasted chicken, warm mushroom soup, and sweet desserts were neatly arranged with barely any room left on the table. Isolde sat at the end of the table, poking a small piece of meat on her plate with her fork without any intention of putting it into her mouth. Her stomach was indeed hungry, but her annoyance over the ridiculous rules the three men had just established had instantly killed her appetite. To her left, Evander kept staring at her intently, while Azriel, sitting across the table, occasionally placed the best pieces of meat onto Isolde's plate without being asked. Lucien, seated at the head of the table, watched the girl's every movement with a possessive gaze. "Eat, Isolde," Lucien ordered flatly but firmly, seeing that the
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