For over half a month, Isla Prescott didn’t see Silas Lockwood again. Their chat history was frozen on the ssage he had sent after landing on his birthday, just to let her know he was safe.
The relationship had begun in silence, and its end was just as unceremonious.
Isla Prescott thought ti could heal her heartache, but more than half a month had passed, and she still found herself in a daze. Whenever a plane flew across the sky, the face that automatically appeared in her mind was still Silas Lockwood’s.
「At the end of the month, Isla Prescott went back to North Lane to visit her mother.」
Her mother, Susan Dudley, had been renting a place in North Lane for the past ten years, ever since she escaped from the mountains with Isla Prescott and her younger sister. She made a living selling wolf tooth potatoes.
When Isla Prescott walked in, her mother was in the landlord’s courtyard, drawing water from a well to wash potatoes.
"Mom."
Susan Dudley heard her voice and looked up. "Isla, what are you doing here?"
"I ca back to see you."
"Have you eaten? If not, I’ll go make you sothing."
"I already ate at the school cafeteria."
Isla Prescott said, pulling up a small stool to sit across from her mother. She then bent over, intending to help her wash the potatoes.
Susan Dudley quickly stopped her.
"Don’t you wash them. They’re filthy. I can do it myself. There’s only one basket left; I’ll be done in a mont."
With that, Susan Dudley plunged her hands back into the muddy water. Her fingers were red from the cold, cracked and scabbed over in so places, while new splits had opened in others.
"Mom, why aren’t you wearing the plastic gloves I bought you?"
"They’re too clumsy to work in. I have to peel the potatoes next, anyway."
Isla Prescott’s eyes reddened as she stared at her mother’s hands.
’Her mother was still struggling so hard just to make a living. What right did she have to wallow in the lancholy of a fleeting romance?’
Isla Prescott stood up, drew two buckets of clean water for her mother, and poured the potatoes in to rinse them again.
"Oh, dear, I told you I could do it myself," Susan Dudley said, trying to stop her again.
"It’s fine."
Susan Dudley watched Isla, a gratified smile on her face, and then began asking about her daily life.
"You’ve been practicing your dancing, right?"
"Yes."
"You’re graduating soon. What are your plans?"
"I want to join the ritopia Song and Dance Troupe."
"Getting into the ritopia Song and Dance Troupe can’t be easy, can it?"
"Don’t worry, I’ve been preparing for a long ti."
Susan Dudley nodded. Isla had always been a child with her own mind and a good sense of judgnt; she trusted her daughter to plan her future well.
"So, have you been back to the Lockwood ho?"
"I have."
"That’s good. You need to visit Mrs. Lockwood more often, to keep up the relationship. You understand? Mrs. Lockwood is your benefactor. You wouldn’t be where you are today without her."
Every ti Isla ca ho, her mother would say the sa things. She never asked Isla to visit her, but she always insisted that she visit Mrs. Lockwood more often.
"I know, Mom."
Since her mother was in a hurry to set up her stall, Isla didn’t stay for long before heading back to school. She had just arrived when she received a call from Mrs. Lockwood, Yvette Shaw.
Yvette Shaw said Silas Lockwood and Lydia Sinclair’s engagent party was next month, and she wanted Isla to go pick out a formal dress for it today.
For the past ten years, as the Lockwood Family’s adopted daughter in na, Isla had been required to be lavishly dressed for every one of the family’s important functions and banquets.
"Do not disgrace the Lockwood Family." This was the rule Mrs. Lockwood had set for her when she first joined the household.
"The driver is already waiting for you at the south gate of the school."
"Okay, Auntie."
Isla Prescott went downstairs, crossed the athletic field to the south gate, and saw a black rcedes parked under a tree.
When the Lockwood family’s driver saw her, he quickly got out to open the car door for her.
"Miss Isla, please get in."
"Thank you, Uncle Coleman."
The driver took her to a luxury boutique specializing in custom formalwear. As soon as Isla entered, she saw Lydia Sinclair twirling like a pixie in front of Silas Lockwood, her gown glittering with crystals.
"Silas, is it pretty? Is it?"
"It is."
"Lydia is already so elegant, but in that gown, she looks like a goddess."
After Silas Lockwood’s comnt, Mrs. Lockwood, Yvette Shaw, also began to praise her. Lydia Sinclair’s mother, Yvonne Gardner, stood nearby, her eyes full of amusent.
Showered with praise by her fiancé and future mother-in-law, Lydia Sinclair was beaming. "Alright, I’ll pick this one for the main gown... Oh? Isla, you’re here!"
At her words, everyone turned to look at Isla Prescott.
"Auntie, Mrs. Sinclair, Brother, Sister-in-law," Isla Prescott greeted them in turn.
"Yvette, this must be the little girl you adopted back then, isn’t she? She’s all grown up now." Mrs. Sinclair sized up Isla Prescott with a aningful look. "And with such looks... she must be quite the head-turner."
Yvette Shaw glanced at Isla. "Our Isla is pretty, yes, but she can’t hold a candle to Lydia."
Mrs. Sinclair smiled faintly but didn’t speak. She could tell the difference between sincerity and re flattery.
Yvette Shaw quickly pulled Isla to her side. "The boutique just received a new couture collection. Go pick out sothing you like to wear for your brother and sister-in-law’s engagent party."
"Okay, Auntie."
Isla went to the side to look at the dresses. When a sales associate ca over to refill the tea, Yvette Shaw pointed at Isla and said to her, "Bring another cup and pour her so tea."
"She doesn’t drink tea. Get her lemonade," Silas Lockwood blurted out.
The room fell silent. Isla’s fingers froze on the rack of dresses, and her breathing grew shallow.
Mrs. Sinclair’s gaze flickered. "Oh? Why doesn’t she drink tea?"
"Isla is allergic to tea."
"Silas, you’re such a good brother. To know sothing so clearly when even your own mother doesn’t."
The atmosphere instantly beca delicate.
Yvette Shaw laughed and cut in. "Oh, Yvonne, you don’t know. Our Silas is just that warm and considerate. He rembers everyone in the family’s likes and dislikes perfectly. Even his father and I often say that our son is as thoughtful as any daughter."
"Well, that’s wonderful. Having such a considerate husband to go through life with will make things so much easier for ," Lydia Sinclair said, looking at Silas and winking playfully. "Isn’t that right, Silas?"
Before Silas could answer, Mrs. Lockwood eagerly interjected, "Yes, yes, of course! Lydia, you’re guaranteed to be happy with our Silas."
"I think so too. I’m the one who’s hit the jackpot."
Seeing her daughter defending Silas so readily, Mrs. Sinclair (Yvonne Gardner) took a quiet breath and dropped the subject.
"Isla, have you chosen one?" Yvette Shaw asked, turning to Isla Prescott. "If you have, go try it on."
"Alright."
Isla knew she wasn’t the main character at this engagent party, so her dress needed to be as low-key as possible. She selected the simplest, least eye-catching white gown from the rack and went into the fitting room to change.
But despite her deliberate attempt to be discreet, Mrs. Sinclair was still not pleased.
"Isla, Lydia’s main gown for the party is white. It wouldn’t be appropriate for you to wear the sa color as the bride-to-be, would it?"
Yvette Shaw chid in, "I agree, that’s not a good look. Isla, please change into a different color."
Isla changed into a cherry-pink one.
Mrs. Sinclair said, "That pink is the sa as Lydia’s other gown."
Yvette Shaw: "Keep looking."
Isla proceeded to try on several more outfits, but Mrs. Sinclair always found sothing wrong with them.
"Black is too somber for an engagent party."
"This one is too revealing."
"I don’t feel this dress highlights Isla’s best features."
"This dress has no sense of design. It’s ugly."
"..."
Trying on couture gowns was no easy task. First, the dresses themselves had to be handled with the utmost care, as every single stitch was precious. Second, even in an air-conditioned room, constantly changing in and out of clothes in this weather was a chilling experience.
At this point, even the sales associates standing by could see that Mrs. Sinclair was intentionally tornting Isla Prescott.
One of the associates snapped a photo and complained in a group chat that Mrs. Sinclair was going on a power trip, torturing not only Isla Prescott but them as well.
Mrs. Sinclair said, "Isla, why don’t you try on the rest of the dresses on the rack? As a mber of the Lockwood Family, your appearance at Silas and Lydia’s engagent party is very important, too."
Yvette Shaw: "Yes, yes, that’s right. Try on a few more."
Isla picked up another gown and headed back to the fitting room, like a robot following a command, repeating the sa task over and over.
Lydia Sinclair, a shawl draped over her shoulders, nibbled on fruit and watched Isla as if taking in a show.
Fury simred within Silas Lockwood. He was about to stand up, but a single glare from Mrs. Lockwood pinned him back in his seat.
Yvette Shaw put a hand on Silas’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper in a voice only he could hear, "If you help her now, you’ll only be hurting her."
Silas Lockwood sank back into the sofa, his heart walking a tightrope, leaving him feeling lost and utterly helpless.
’Why was it that even after they had broken up, he was still unable to protect her?’
Isla changed into the nth gown and, unsurprisingly, was rejected again by Mrs. Sinclair. She was cold and exhausted, but Yvette Shaw had no intention of supporting her, and Isla couldn’t risk offending Mrs. Sinclair at the expense of the Lockwood Family’s standing. All she could do was endure it in silence.
"Isla, this one looks promising. Go try it on..."
Suddenly, a commotion arose from the main floor downstairs. A sales associate hurried up to the group on the sofa and said, "Mrs. Sinclair, Mrs. Lockwood, Young Mr. Shaw is here. He’s..."
Before the associate could finish her sentence, Shane Sterling had already ascended the stairs.
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