Julian Voss and Helena Voss arrived downstairs just in time to witness Selene's palm land sharply across Vivian Voss's face.
The sound echoed.
Vivian froze, stunned into silence. She had never been struck before—not once in her life. She had only wanted to provoke Selene, to needle her into losing control. She hadn't expected her to actually retaliate.
The sting burned across her cheek, and hatred surged in her eyes—so intense it almost felt tangible. But Vivian forced it down instantly.
This slap would not go unanswered.
Beside her, Marcus Voss was equally caught off guard. He had anticipated tension, maybe a verbal clash—but not this. The situation had escalated far faster than he'd expected.
The maids scattered around the living room stood frozen, breath held, eyes lowered. No one dared make a sound. This newly returned "eldest daughter" was far more ruthless than any of them had imagined. Vivian's cheek was already swelling, a vivid red imprint standing out against her pale skin.
From the corner of her eye, Vivian spotted Julian striding toward them, his face thunderous with rage.
A flicker of satisfaction surfaced beneath the pain.
"Sister…" Vivian said softly, her voice trembling just enough to sound wounded. "Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you? Why would you hit me?
Her words were gentle. Perfect. Faultless.
Marcus heard the tone clearly—and grimaced inwardly. He knew Vivian too well. The sweetness was an act. She hadn't wasted a second—Selene had only just returned, and Vivian was already trying to establish dominance.
His sister was dangerous.
Julian, however, saw none of it.
All he saw was Selene raising her hand against Vivian—his precious daughter—without restraint.
His fury exploded.
"You ungrateful girl!" he roared. "How dare you!"
Ungrateful?
Selene's lips curved faintly.
She had no interest in being his obedient daughter. She didn't want his approval, his affection, or his forgiveness. If anything, she only intended to be better than he ever was.
Helena nearly lost her composure when she saw Vivian's swollen cheek. She knew full well Vivian had provoked this—perhaps rushed things—but so what? Her daughter had been hit.
Selene would pay.
No one understood Vivian better than Helena.
Mother and daughter moved in perfect sync
.
Julian immediately pulled Vivian into his arms.
Helena and Marcus closed in as well, forming a protective circle around her.
Selene stood alone across from them.
Two sides. One line drawn.
"Dad…" Vivian whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. "Please don't blame her. Maybe I said something wrong. Maybe we came back too late, and she thought we didn't care about her anymore. If hitting me makes her feel better, I don't mind."
She turned her face slightly—just enough for Julian to see the swelling clearly.
The perfect victim.
Julian's expression darkened.
Helena dabbed at her eyes, playing her part flawlessly.
"Selene," Helena said softly, "couldn't you have talked it out? Why resort to violence? Vivian has Master Arden's ceremony next month. An injury like this could ruin everything."
That was the final spark.
Julian strode toward Selene, arm raised.
The room sucked in a collective breath.
Before his hand could fall, Selene lifted her arm lazily—and caught his wrist midair.
Effortless.
From the beginning, Selene hadn't raised her voice or defended herself. Her expression remained detached, almost bored, as if she were watching someone else's farce unfold.
"You want to hit me?" she asked coolly. "Do you even qualify?"
Julian froze.
Her words struck deeper than any slap could have.
He couldn't bring himself to strike her—but standing there with his hand restrained was even more humiliating. Pride warred with hesitation. Retreat would make him look weak. Pressing forward felt… impossible.
Strangely enough, it was as if his strength had vanished.
Onlookers began to notice.
Selene didn't appear to be exerting force, yet Julian's arm trembled, veins standing out as his face twisted with strain.
The stalemate stretched until Helena intervened, her instincts sharp.
There was no saving Julian's dignity now.
"Enough," she said gently. "Selene acted out of anger. Sisters fight—it's normal. Let's not escalate this."
Julian seized the excuse instantly, lowering his arm stiffly.
"I'm letting this go for your Aunt Helena's sake," he said coldly. "But don't let it happen again.
Apologize to Vivian. Now."
Apologize?
That was it?
Vivian lowered her lashes, hiding the gleam in her eyes.
So this was it. Her father's so-called punishment.
Her mother had been right—Julian's leniency toward Selene wasn't random. It meant something.
Selene would be a problem.
Marcus noticed it too. His father's tolerance toward Selene was excessive—unnatural, even.
His earlier cheerful façade vanished, eyes darkening with calculation.
No one noticed.
Except Selene.
She saw straight through him.
A pleasant smile masking something rotten beneath. A man like him required careful dissection to understand—if one word fit, it wa a hypocrite.
Selene finally spoke.
"You seriously expect me to apologize to her?"
Vivian swallowed.
What she truly wanted was for Selene to kneel—to beg.
But she could never say that aloud.
So she smiled faintly, the picture of grace.
"Sister, what are you saying? You did hit me. Even if I don't mind… if word gets out, people might think Dad didn't raise you properly."
A pause.
"So if you apologize," she added softly, "I'll accept it."
Her smile widened.
And Selene smiled back.
But there was nothing warm in it.