Clara's POV
Dinner had always been her stage.
The Ashford dining room glowed under the amber chandelier — silverware gleaming, wine poured, laughter rehearsed. Clara sat at the head of the table beside Richard, her posture flawless, her smile the kind that could make you forget she'd ever lied.
Across from her sat Elijah — quiet, unreadable — the only one who hadn't fallen into her rhythm. Beside him, Liam and Ray whispered between bites, too young to sense the current beneath the calm. And then Matthew, freshly home after months abroad, smiling like he wasn't sure what he'd stepped into.
Everything was perfect — or so it appeared.
"Matthew," she said sweetly, slicing into her steak, "you've lost weight. Are they not feeding you well over there?"
Matthew chuckled. "Work's been crazy. New projects, late nights."
Clara sighed theatrically. "You Ashford men always so busy saving the world you forget to eat. Isn't that right, darling?"
She glanced at Richard. He smiled faintly, humoring her.
Elijah didn't.
He was just watching. Listening.
---
Elijah's POV
The sound of knives and forks clinking filled the space, steady and controlled — like everything in this family.
He'd grown up under this ceiling. He knew the rules — smile when spoken to, keep your opinions tidy, don't bleed at the table.
But tonight, something about Clara's tone made his skin itch. Too smooth. Too… rehearsed.
He caught her eyes once — and there it was: the glint. The same one she'd worn earlier that morning when she came back from her mysterious "trip."
She was working on something. He just didn't know what yet.
"So, Elijah," she said suddenly, voice like honey on glass, "I heard you've been spending a lot of time at the studio lately."
Matthew raised a brow. "Studio?"
Elijah set down his fork. "Yeah. I'm working with Ivy. She's assisting me with the project."
Clara smiled, but her tone carried teeth. "Ivy… yes. That's the name I keep hearing. Such a lovely girl. Ambitious too."
"Quite the presence, really. Makes me wonder what happened to that other artist — what was her name?"
She tilted her head innocently. "Starling, wasn't it?"
The table went still for a heartbeat.
Elijah's chest tightened. "Let's not—"
"Oh, I was only asking," Clara cut in quickly, all politeness. "It's been ages since we've seen her. Such a talented young woman… shame things didn't work out."
---
Clara's POV
The tension that followed was delicious.
She hid her smile behind her wineglass, eyes glinting over the rim. Elijah's silence was better than an answer — it told her exactly where his heart still wandered.
Richard cleared his throat. "Let's change the topic. Matthew, how's the business expansion going?"
Matthew began talking — but Clara wasn't listening. Her focus stayed on Elijah, who sat stiff, jaw set, pretending calm.
She wanted to see how far she could push him before the cracks showed.
---
Elijah's POV
He couldn't focus on anyone's voice anymore. Not Richard's, not Matthew's — just Clara's, replaying her every word like a warning.
He knew what she was doing. She wanted a reaction. She wanted to see him break character.
"Clara," he said suddenly, his tone low, measured. "If you're trying to make a point, just say it."
The table froze again. Even Liam and Ray looked up.
Clara blinked, feigning surprise. "A point? Oh Elijah, don't be silly. We're just having dinner."
"Sure." He leaned back, eyes steady. "That's what it always is, isn't it? Just dinner."
Richard frowned. "Enough, both of you."
But it was too late. The quiet had turned sharp.
---
Clara's POV
Perfect.
Exactly where she wanted him — raw, defensive, off-balance.
"Elijah," she said softly, "I'm only concerned. You've been distant. Secretive. You used to bring your work home… now it's all whispers and closed doors."
Her tone turned motherly — practiced concern with an undertone of warning.
"Or is it that you're afraid someone might not approve of the company you keep?"
---
Elijah's POV
That did it.
He pushed his chair back slightly, anger flashing through the calm. "You don't know anything about the company I keep."
"Oh?" Clara tilted her head, voice barely a whisper. "I know enough to see patterns repeat themselves."
"Clara," Richard warned, voice low.
She ignored him. "First Starling. Now Ivy. Always the same kind of girl, Elijah. Passionate. Beautiful. Dangerous."
The air snapped.
"Elijah!" Richard's voice cut through. "Sit down."
But Elijah was already standing. His voice was quiet — colder than the crystal plates.
"You talk like you care about this family," he said. "But all you do is poison it."
Clara's smile didn't falter — it simply froze in place.
"I'm trying to protect this family," she replied, her tone sharp now, stripped of sweetness. "Someone has to."
Elijah stared at her. "No. You're trying to control it."
The words hit harder than either expected.
For a long, choking moment, no one spoke.
Then Clara rose from her seat, smoothing her napkin, her eyes locked on his.
"Dinner's over," she said softly, and walked away — heels clicking, perfume fading into silence.
Elijah stood there, breathing hard, the chandelier's glow turning colder by the second.
He didn't look at anyone — not even his father.
Because deep down, he knew Clara hadn't come back to rebuild the family.
She'd come back to tear it apart.
Clara's POV (continued)
The moment she stepped out of the dining room, the air shifted — freer, colder, honest.
Behind her, the weight of silence settled like dust.
She walked down the hallway, posture straight, expression calm. But inside, her thoughts were already racing — calculating, tightening.
Her heels clicked softly on the marble as she opened her clutch, pulling out her phone.
Still no message. Typical.
She paused by the large hallway mirror, studying the flawless woman looking back.
Then, with a faint smirk, she dialed.
The line rang once before a voice answered.
"Did he take the bait?"
Clara's tone turned silk-smooth. "Of course. Elijah's temper always dances right where I want it."
"And his father?"
"Still blind," she said softly. "He'll defend the boy until it costs him everything."
The voice hummed. "What about Ivy?"
"She's restless. Ambitious. The perfect tool," Clara said. "And if she starts thinking for herself…"
Her smile sharpened. "…well, that's easy enough to fix."
"And Starling?"
That name made her still for half a second.
She looked toward the window — the night pressing against the glass, cold and familiar.
"Starling will come back," she murmured. "She always does. But this time, I'll make sure she doesn't leave with anything left to fight for."
The voice on the line chuckled quietly. "Make sure no one connects you to the first incident."
Clara's expression hardened. "They won't. By the time they suspect, it'll be too late."
She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her clutch.
Her reflection in the glass smiled back — polished, perfect, poisonous.
"Let the game begin," she whispered.
---
Liam and Ray's POV
Two shadows lingered just beyond the hallway.
Liam held Ray's arm still, eyes wide, breath barely leaving his lips. They'd come to check on their mother — to make sure she wasn't upset after Elijah's outburst.
But what they heard froze them in place.
Every word. Every plan.
"Bro…" Ray whispered, barely audible. "Mom's… she's…"
Liam shook his head quickly. "Don't say it."
They stood there, hidden behind the half-open door, watching Clara tuck her phone away and fix her hair — her face softening instantly, like nothing had happened.
The same woman who'd just spoken about tearing their brother apart smiled faintly, humming under her breath as she turned back toward the dining room lights.
Liam swallowed hard.
Ray's hand trembled in his.
Neither said a word.
Neither moved.
Because deep down, they both knew — in this family, silence was safer than truth.
And so, they stepped away quietly… pretending they hadn't heard a thing.