37

Seven

The mansion was lit with warm golden lights, and the gentle hum of slow music filled the air, blending with the rich aroma of the exquisite dishes being prepared. Talia and Marco entered the grand Donovan residence together, though Marco’s brisk pace left her trailing behind. The moment they crossed the threshold, Mrs. Lyra, Marco’s mother, hurried toward them, her face twisted with disdain.

"Talia!" she hissed, rolling her eyes in disgust. Without warning, she tossed a pair of house slippers at Talia. The harshness of her gesture made Talia flinch, though she quickly lowered her head in respect. "Put those on," Mrs. Lyra snapped. "I don’t want your cheap shoes ruining the polished floor."

Talia bit the inside of her cheek, her body stiff as she bent to retrieve the slippers. She barely had a moment to steady herself before Mrs. Lyra’s voice cut through the air again.

"Still so shabby, even after marrying into our family. What a disgrace," she sneered, glaring at Talia’s worn sh