Penelope’s eyes gleamed with a knowing flicker, a spark of mischief lighting her expression. Unlike her innocent younger sister, she was far from oblivious to the enigmatic Mr. Lancaster. She had made it her mission to uncover everything she could about Aaron, and now, a mere glance at Anastasia's borrowed robe coupled with the tense faces of the household staff spoke volumes. She feigned innocence, a practiced facade. “Anastasia, whose attire might you be donning?” Anastasia hesitated. The atmosphere shifted palpably, and in that moment, the pieces fell into place. In her former life, Harrison had indulged her every whim, every curiosity. Rosewood Manor had felt like her personal playground, and his bedroom had been no exception. The housekeeper leading her there earlier hadn’t raised any alarm bells in her mind—until now. But the reality was stark. This was not her previous existence; she stood on unfamiliar ground, a stranger in the world Harrison occupied. And he, a man like no other, guarded his territory fiercely. The sanctity of his room was a privilege bestowed only upon Mary, and Mary alone. Recognition of this truth sent a ripple of discomfort coursing through her, but she masked it well, tethering her composure as she descended the stairs, feigning calm until she stood before him. “Sweetheart, I forgot to grab my clothes when I went to shower, so I borrowed yours. Is that alright?” Logan’s face froze, disbelief etching itself onto his features. Had she genuinely just called Mr. Lancaster ‘sweetheart’? Was there something wrong with his hearing? An oppressive silence enveloped the room. Anastasia’s voice, light as a feather and laced with teasing affection, danced through the air and settled unceremoniously on Harrison’s heart. His long fingers, drumming an absentminded rhythm on the armrest, stilled abruptly. His gaze, deep and inscrutable, bore into her, the air crackling with unspoken words. Inwardly, Penelope scoffed. How naive! As if Mr. Lancaster had never encountered anything even remotely like this before. There was no way he would succumb to— “Yes. That’s fine.” His voice was a rich timbre that rippled through the silence, reverberating like a melody. Every head in the room swung toward him, eyes wide with disbelief. Relief washed over Anastasia, and a radiant smile curved her lips. “Thank you, sweetheart!” For a fleeting moment, a surge of guilt overshadowed her gratitude. This was merely her first day in this new life, and here he was, extending such generosity. Did this mean he truly held some affection for her? The past rang like an unwelcome bell in her mind; he had been nothing but kind, yet she had allowed malicious whispers to sway her, retreating from him like he were some beast, inadvertently inflicting the deepest wounds on them both. In that instant, Penelope's jealous stare pierced her like a dagger. Cold and steely, Anastasia turned to face her. “What are you doing here, Penelope?” Swiftly, Penelope masked her tumultuous emotions behind a practiced smile. “I was merely worried about you... so I came to check on things,” she said, but her eyes betrayed her. “Really?” Anastasia arched an eyebrow. “Funny, I could have sworn I just heard you say you’d stand in for me?” Penelope's expression tightened, panic flickering in her eyes as she shot a wary glance at the imposing figure of Mr. Lancaster in his wheelchair. She seized Anastasia’s arm and pulled her aside, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “Anastasia, what’s gotten into you? Didn’t I tell you I’d handle everything? Why did you come back? Mr. Aaron Lancaster is still waiting for you. Are you really going to let him down? Look, once this is over, we can just ask Mr. Lancaster to let you go. I’m willing to take your place. We’re sisters, after all—how could I just watch you walk into the fire?” Listening to her sister's overblown performance almost made Anastasia laugh aloud. There had been a time when she had fallen for such theatrics—trusting, even moved by Penelope’s hollow reassurances. Yet history had been harsh; she barely survived a day after fleeing, only to be dragged back and presented to Harrison once more. And Penelope? She had rushed to position herself at Harrison’s feet, instead, winning Elder Mrs. Lancaster’s approval—and all the benefits that came with it. “Anastasia, why aren’t you saying anything?” Penelope pressed, frustration threading through her words. With a veneer of calm and a hidden sting of bitterness, Anastasia replied lightly, “No need. You should go.” “What?” Penelope blinked, her tone rising in surprise. “You’re really going to let Mr. Lancaster down? You—” “How would I be letting him down?” Anastasia interrupted, her voice firm. “We’re not even together. Besides, Mr. Harrison Lancaster and I have been engaged since we were children. Isn’t it only natural for me to marry him?” Looking back, she realized how sheltered her stepmother had kept her, how naïve she had once been. Aaron had approached her had not with genuine intentions, but rather with an agenda, and she had been far too blind to see the truth laid before her. In this tangled web of emotions and ambitions, the stakes were rising. The air was thick with tension, and the enigmatic threads of their fates were weaving together in ways neither sister could yet foresee.