Corbin Ashworth's gaze felt like ice as he stared down. The warmth of our dinner evaporated instantly.
"Uncle Corbin," Isabelle said, her voice steady despite the sudden tension. "This is Liam Knight."
I stood and extended my hand. "It's a pleasure to et you, sir."
Corbin ignored my outstretched hand, turning instead to Michael. "I wasn't aware we were entertaining guests tonight, especially ones with such... questionable backgrounds."
The insult hung in the air. I lowered my hand slowly, keeping my face neutral despite the burn of humiliation. This wasn't my first encounter with the arrogance of Havenwood's elite.
Michael cleared his throat. "Liam is here at my invitation, Corbin."
"Is that so?" Corbin's lips curled into a thin smile. "And does this have anything to do with your granddaughter's recent escapades?"
Before Michael could respond, two more n entered the dining room. From their similar features and commanding presence, I recognized them imdiately as more Ashworth family mbers.
"Marcus, Clayton," Michael acknowledged with a nod. "I wasn't expecting either of you this evening."
Marcus, a lean man with sharp features and calculating eyes, took a seat without waiting for an invitation. "When we heard about Isabelle's new... friend, we thought a family dinner was in order."
Clayton, slightly younger with a perpetual frown etched on his face, circled the table like a predator. "So this is the alchemist who's been keeping our niece occupied."
I felt Isabelle tense beside . Her hand found mine under the table, squeezing it in silent support.
"Uncle Marcus, Uncle Clayton," she said coolly. "Yes, this is Liam Knight. One of the Celestial Apothecary Guild's most promising talents."
Clayton snorted. "Guild talent or not, he's still nobody in Havenwood. Or have you forgotten your position, Isabelle?"
I swallowed the retort that sprang to my lips. This was Isabelle's family, and creating a scene would only make things harder for her.
"I'm well aware of my position," Isabelle replied, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "And of Liam's accomplishnts, which speak for themselves."
Corbin took a seat opposite , his eyes never leaving my face. "Accomplishnts? Like what? Brewing a few potions? Mixing so herbs? Let's not pretend that puts him anywhere near our circle."
The servants brought additional place settings and food, their movents tense and hurried as they sensed the hostile atmosphere.
"Actually," I said calmly, eting Corbin's gaze, "I recently completed the formulation of an Advanced Spirit Recovery Elixir. Pavilion Master Valerius was kind enough to express her approval."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Mariana Valerius? That old witch still runs the Guild?"
I felt a flash of anger at his disrespect toward my ntor. "Pavilion Master Valerius is one of the most respected alchemists in the country, sir."
"Respected by whom?" Clayton laughed coldly. "Street vendors and hedge doctors?"
Michael tapped his fingers on the table. "That's enough. Mariana Valerius is an old friend and deserves your respect, regardless of your personal feelings."
Corbin picked up his wine glass, swirling the dark liquid. "I hear you're quite close with the Blackthorne family now, Corbin," he said, shifting topics. "Gideon speaks highly of your partnership."
The ntion of Dashiell Blackthorne's father made my blood run cold. So the rumors were true—Corbin Ashworth had aligned himself with my enemies.
Corbin smiled thinly. "The Blackthornes understand the importance of proper alliances. Sothing our family seems to have forgotten."
"And what exactly does that an?" Isabelle challenged.
"It ans," Clayton interjected, "that you've been seen around town with this nobody while Dashiell Blackthorne waits for your answer to his proposal."
I nearly choked on my water. "Proposal?"
Isabelle's face flushed with anger. "There is no proposal to answer. I made that clear weeks ago."
Marcus leaned forward. "Be reasonable, Isabelle. The Blackthorne connection would strengthen our position in both Havenwood and Veridia City."
"I'm not a chess piece to be moved for strategic advantage," she snapped.
"No," Clayton said coldly. "You're an Ashworth. And that cos with responsibilities beyond your personal... distractions."
His eyes flicked dismissively toward on the last word.
I set down my fork carefully. "I understand family loyalty, but surely Isabelle's happiness matters as well?"
The table fell silent. Then Corbin laughed—a sound entirely devoid of humor.
"Listen to him, speaking as if he understands anything about our world." Corbin's voice dripped with contempt. "Boy, you have no idea the forces you're playing with. The Ashworth na carries weight you cannot comprehend."
"I comprehend more than you think," I replied evenly.
Corbin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you? Then perhaps you comprehend that associating with Isabelle puts a target on your back—one you're woefully unprepared to handle."
"That sounds remarkably like a threat," I observed.
"Uncle Corbin!" Isabelle's voice was sharp with warning.
Michael raised a hand, silencing the table. "Enough. This is still my house, and Liam is my guest. He will be treated with respect."
The uncles exchanged glances but fell silent. Corbin, however, maintained his predatory stare.
"Of course, Father," he said smoothly. "No disrespect intended. I'm rely concerned for Isabelle's future."
The rest of the al passed in tense conversation. Marcus and Clayton peppered with questions about my background, each answer t with thinly veiled disdain. Corbin said little but watched every move I made, assessing and calculating.
Isabelle remained by my side, her defense unwavering. Each ti her uncles attempted to belittle , she countered with sharp reminders of my achievents. Her loyalty ward even as the hostility from her family chilled the room.
When dessert arrived, Corbin abruptly stood. "I'm afraid I have other engagents this evening. It was... enlightening to et you, Liam Knight."
Marcus and Clayton followed suit. "We should be going as well," Marcus announced.
"So soon?" Michael asked, though he didn't sound disappointed.
"Business calls," Clayton replied curtly. He turned to with a cold smile. "It was interesting to et the man who's caught our Isabelle's attention, however temporarily."
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After they departed, the dining room fell into blessed silence.
"I'm so sorry, Liam," Isabelle whispered, her eyes bright with unshed tears of frustration. "They had no right to treat you that way."
I took her hand. "It's not your fault. I expected resistance from your family."
Michael sighed heavily. "Corbin has always been... protective of our family's interests. But his alliance with the Blackthornes concerns ." He looked at aningfully. "Be careful, young man. Corbin doesn't make idle threats."
"I understand, sir."
After dinner, Michael invited to finish our interrupted chess ga. As we played, I could sense he was testing again—not my cultivation skills this ti, but my resilience after the confrontation with his sons.
"Check," he announced after a particularly clever move.
I studied the board and found my counter. "Not quite yet," I replied, moving my knight to block his attack.
Michael smiled approvingly. "You adapt quickly. A valuable trait."
When the ga ended—with my inevitable defeat, though not as quickly as before—it was ti for to leave. Isabelle walked to the front of the estate.
"Don't let them discourage you," she said, reaching up to touch my face. "They don't know you like I do."
"And what do you know about ?" I asked softly.
Her eyes held mine, unwavering. "I know that you're stronger than they think. That you're more than your past or your current status. And I know that I'm not walking away from you, no matter what they say."
I pulled her close, breathing in her scent. "They'll make things difficult."
"They already are," she admitted. "But I've never wanted easy. I want you."
Her words filled with determination. Whatever ca next, whatever obstacles her family placed in our path, I would find a way through them. For her.
We said our goodbyes, and I started down the long driveway toward the gates. The night air was cool against my skin, a welco relief after the heated tension of dinner.
I'd nearly reached the gates when I noticed a dark Land Rover parked on the street outside. Sothing about it raised my instincts—the tinted windows, the engine idling quietly, the way it was positioned directly in my path.
As I approached, the front doors opened, and two n stepped out. Both wore plain dark clothes, their builds suggesting the compact strength of trained fighters. They moved with purpose, positioning themselves to block my exit from the Ashworth estate.
"Liam Knight?" one of them called, his voice hard and professional.
I stopped, my senses heightening as I assessed the threat. "Who's asking?"
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