My father, jolted by Elise’s tone, finally managed a strangled sound, a sort of strangled gasp that he quickly tried to disguise as a cough. He blinked, a slow, deliberate movent, as if trying to clear the impossible image from his eyes. He then looked at , his expression a painful mix of bewildernt and a desperate plea for understanding. His hand, still hovering in mid-air, finally found my arm, his grip surprisingly tight, almost bruising.
Leo, bless his dramatic heart, finally found his voice, but it was a shaky whisper. "So... so you’re telling ... this is why you’ve been so secretive, Izzy? Why you and Aria are like, ’Oh, it’s just a complicated situation’? Complicated like owning half the world, complicated?" He gestured wildly with his fork, nearly spearing a passing waiter. "I thought you ant, like, a complicated dating history! Or maybe you owed soone money! Not... this!"
Sensing the rapidly deteriorating situation, I had to let him calm. "Leo, please. It’s... it’s a lot to take in, I know. But we wanted to tell you both in person. Properly."
Leo, anwhile, was still processing. He looked from Adrien to , then back to Adrien. "So, like... no one can ever ss with you again, right? Like, if soone tries to cut in line at the grocery store, you just have your... your people... handle it?"
I couldn’t help but let out a small, shaky laugh. "Leo, no. It doesn’t quite work like that."
Elise smiled again, a knowing, reassuring smile. "It works like this," she said, her voice cutting through the lingering confusion. "Isabelle is marrying the man she loves. My son loves her very much. And that is what matters to us. The rest," she gestured vaguely with her hand, "is just details. Now, let us eat. We have so much to celebrate."
Slowly, tentatively, my father released my arm. He still looked like he’d seen a ghost, or perhaps several hundred ghosts of Wall Street tycoons, but he managed a weak nod towards Adrien. Leo, caught between his outrageous imagination and the undeniable reality of the situation, just stared, his mouth slightly ajar.
The clink of silverware and the soft rustle of fabric were the only sounds as we took our seats. Adrien pulled out my chair like a gentleman from a forgotten era, and I sat, spine straight, heart thudding. Leo slid in beside at my left, still wide-eyed, while my father lowered himself into his seat like the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders.
Across the table, Elise remained the picture of grace, her smile unwavering. She spoke to the staff in low tones, ensuring wine was poured and the courses began. Her presence was a balm, but the tension still simred beneath the surface.
Then ca the others.
Yvonne, Adrien’s stepmother, took her seat with a practiced elegance that felt more rehearsed than real. Her eyes scanned like I was a résumé she wasn’t impressed by. And Adrien’s father who has been quiet all through as he showed no emotion.
Adrien’s hand found mine beneath the table, his thumb brushing my knuckles. A silent comfort.
Dinner began. The food was exquisite, but I barely tasted it. Conversation flowed—mostly from Elise, who masterfully steered the evening with anecdotes and gentle questions. She asked Leo about his studies, my father about his clinic, and even complinted the suit he wore, which made him blink like he’d forgotten he was wearing one.
Just as the first course was being served, a quiet stir drew my attention. Caron reappeared, but this ti, his usual charm was dimd by sothing heavier.
Caron hesitated, then leaned toward Adrien, whispering sothing low into his ear. Adrien’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened. He murmured sothing back—too quiet for to catch—but whatever it was, it made Caron nod grimly.
He straightened, turned to Elise, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "I’m sorry, aunt Elise, I won’t be able to stay for dinner."
Elise blinked, surprised. "Why, darling? Everything alright?"
Caron’s eyes flicked briefly to Adrien, then back to her. "Sothing ca up. I need to handle it personally."
Then he inclined his head toward Adrien’s father, who barely acknowledged him, and offered a polite nod to my family. "Mr. Miller, Leo... Isabella. I apologize for the abrupt exit. I was looking forward to this."
His gaze lingered on Adrien for a beat longer than necessary. No words passed between them, but sothing did. Sothing heavy.
And then, he left.
As the main course was served, the doors opened again. Another man walked in, Caden, Adrien’s half-brother. He sauntered in with a confident swagger, a smirk playing on his lips that seed to suggest he was perpetually amused by the world, particularly by Adrien.
He gave his father a perfunctory nod, a slightly warr, albeit still guarded, acknowledgent of Yvonne, his mother, before his eyes landed on . A slow, appreciative smile spread across his face. "Well, well," he drawled, his voice a low rumble that cut through the polite chatter. "And who is this exquisite creature?"
"Isabella," he said, his voice smooth as silk and twice as slippery. "You look... ravishing tonight."
"Thank you," I said, keeping my voice even. I didn’t know much about Caden—just a handful of vague articles and a photo that looked more like a modeling shoot than a biography when AAria and I had looked him up. He was a mystery wrapped in charm.
"Call brother-in-law. Or just, Caden," he said, cutting in smoothly, like he’d rehearsed the line in front of a mirror lined with secrets. "Since we’re all going to be family."
"Brother-in-law," I repeated, the word tasting foreign on my tongue. The smirk on Caden’s face widened, as if he’d just won a private ga.
Adrien’s grip on my hand tightened under the table, a silent warning, perhaps directed at Caden, perhaps at . I pressed my lips together, resisting the urge to squirm. I could feel the scrutiny from everyone at the table – Yvonne’s barely veiled disdain, Elise’s watchful concern, my father’s bewildered apprehension, and Leo’s almost comical fascination.
"Caden," Elise said, her voice a touch sharper than before. "We weren’t expecting you. I thought you were in hilan?"
Caden shrugged, a gesture that managed to convey both nonchalance and a hint of rebellion. "Changed my plans. Couldn’t miss the opportunity to et the lucky lady who’s managed to ta the beast." He winked at , then turned his attention to Adrien. "You know she is so charming, brother. You hoard all the good things for yourself, don’t you?"
Adrien’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice even. "Isabella is not an object, Caden."
"Of course not," Caden replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "She’s family. Which ans I can borrow her for a dance at the wedding, right?"
Before Adrien could respond, Yvonne interjected, her voice laced with ice. "Caden, behave yourself. This is neither the ti nor the place."
Caden raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just trying to break the ice. This whole affair has a certain... stiffness to it, wouldn’t you agree?" He glanced around the table, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Maybe so entertainnt is in order."
"Enough," Adrien said, his voice dangerously low. "Dinner is being served."
Caden waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, I can wait. I’ve been waiting my whole life for a family reunion like this. And look what we have!" His eyes swept across the table, a glint of sothing unreadable in their depths. He paused on my father. "And who might you be? Don’t recognize you from the usual faces. Are you... new managent?"
My father, who had been slowly, painstakingly regaining his composure, visibly flinched. Leo, however, seed to find a renewed sense of purpose in this unexpected chaos. He leaned forward, his eyes wide with a mixture of alarm and morbid fascination. "He’s my dad," Leo announced, puffing out his chest slightly. "And Isabelle’s dad."
Caden raised an eyebrow, a theatrical gesture. "Ah, the mortal side of the family. Fascinating." He then turned his full attention back to . "So, Isabella, my dear soon-to-be sister-in-law," he drawled, circling my chair as if admiring a prize. "Tell , what do you think of the family you’re marrying into? We’re a... colorful bunch."
Before I could formulate a response – and frankly, I wasn’t sure what kind of response would be appropriate for a question like that – Adrien’s father finally spoke. His voice was a dry rasp, like pebbles being dragged across concrete. "Caden. Take your seat." I hadn’t heard him speak before. It felt like a verdict.
Caden stopped, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before returning with renewed vigor. "Of course, Father." He bowed mockingly and slid into the empty seat beside Yvonne, his gaze never leaving .
The main course arrived then, a welco distraction.
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