Chapter 258: War of the Sisters 2
The party Mira had spoken of took place just two months before Lara’s abduction—a memory now dulled by time but etched with emotional scars. It was a banquet at Marlon Norse’s manor, thrown in honor of Mira’s elder sister’s debut into society.
Mira, only sixteen then and flushed with infatuation, had her heart set on one person: the son of the Duke of Silverstone—a striking young man with cold eyes and careless charm. Determined to catch his attention, she had dragged along her quiet, younger cousin, Lara, whose presence was more prop than companion.
When they entered the hall, Mira spotted him at the wine table, casually requesting a goblet from the attending waiter. Her pulse quickened. Eager to approach, she brushed too close to the table, her hand snagging the edge of the crisp white tablecloth. In an instant, bottles toppled, crystal shattered, and dark red wine bled across the floor like spilled secrets.
Panic seized Mira. Without thinking, she shoved Lara forward. "It was her!" she cried. "She knocked it over!"
Lara, just turned into a teenager, stood firm despite the sudden attention and humiliation. Her voice was steady, her eyes unwavering. "Cousin, I didn’t even touch the hem of the tablecloth." There was a quiet dignity in her words, the kind that silenced whispers.
Mira, exposed and trembling, was harshly scolded by the elders. She turned to look at Sigfred Silverstone, who looked at her mockingly. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fled the hall, the echo of judgment trailing behind her.
Amelia’s voice pulled Mira back to the present.
Amelia stood beside Mira. Lara stood nearby, aloof and distant, as if the intimacy of their shared past had been buried somewhere she could no longer reach.
"Lara, you’ve changed so much," Amelia said, her voice catching as unshed tears shimmered in her deep brown eyes. "I don’t recognize you anymore. It’s as if the girl I once knew has simply faded away."