When Jenna entered the dining hall, Eric was already there. He sat at the head of the table built for at least thirty persons, a glass of dark red wine sitting loosely in his hand.
He simply watched her, his gaze traveling from her defiant eyes to the rock on her left hand.
Jenna ignored him and pulled out the chair at the opposite end of the table, the screech of wood against the marble cut through the silence.
"You're too far away," Eric stated, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight.
Jenna gripped the edge of the table. "There's no one here but the staff."
"The staff have eyes and ears, Jenna," Eric replied, finally meeting her gaze. His blue eyes were piercing in the dim light. "They talk, and those whispers eventually reach my father. Come here."
Jenna reluctantly stood up. She picked up her glass and marched down. Pulling out the chair immediately to his right, shesat down, her shoulders barely inches away from his. The scent of his cologne hit her nostrils, sandalwood and something colder.
"Happy?" She snapped.
"Ecstatic," he murmured, though his face remained in its cold mask.
As the first course was served, Eric leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low silkiness, meant for only her. "We have a story to build. They need to believe that I, the illegitimate black sheep have been tamed by a woman of substance."
He leaned back as soon as the staff left. "To them, we met at a Tech Summit in Bellview City. You were a participant in her final college year and I was an investor."
Jenna's fingers stilled. 'Bellview? She had actually been at that.'
"It was a coincidence," Eric explained, noticing her change. "I attended anonymously. Saw you once. Didn't think it would matter."He took a sip from his wineglass.
"Turns out it does."
She turned towards him.
"I was looking at you. It was fast, it was messy, and it was undeniable. Can you play that part?"
"The 'undeniable' part? Or the 'messy' part?" Jenna challenged, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Both," Eric whispered.
He reached out, his cool fingers lifting her chin, forcing her to look at him. "This weekend, the performance becomes public. We'll be meeting my family for dinner. Scott will be there."
Jenna's hand faltered. The thought of seeing Scott made her blood run cold.
"I know the history," Eric continued, sensing her shift. "He thinks he broke you. He thinks you're still that girl in her tiny apartment mourning a dead empire. Let him see how wrong he was."
"Is that what this is to you?" Jenna whispered, looking at him. "A power move against your brother?"
"It's a silent war, Jenna. In this family, you're either the one wielding the knife or the one at the end of the blade. And I prefer the former." He paused scanning her face.
"Get your emotions in check. I hope it won't be a problem, Ms. Smith?"
"No," her voice dropped into an icy tone.
"Good." He stood. "I look forward to it. Eat more, you need your strength. Tomorrow morning, the stylists will be coming."
He paused, looking down at her.
"If we're going to meet my family, you'll need to look the part." He strode out of the dining room, leaving Jenna to her thoughts.
The next morning, Jenna woke up with dark circles around her eyes. She had tossed and turned all night, and only managed to catch some sleep during the early hours of the morning.
She freshened up and headed downstairs. Upon seeing her, Carla halted in her footsteps.
"Good morning, Miss," she bowed softly. "Breakfast is ready."
Jenna nodded and walked along to the dining hall. The hall felt different in the daylight, quieter and less tense. She took the same seat she had used the previous night and waited, scrolling casually through her phone.
As they served her meal, Jenna's eyes darted around.
"Master already left for work Miss," Carla said, gently catching her gaze.
"Mmm," Jenna finally relaxed, and enjoyed her meal.
"The stylists will arrive shortly, Miss." Carla reminded her. "Master asked that I assist you with whatever you need in choosing a suitable style." She added.
Jenna fingers paused, the scraping of her fork against the porcelain plate halting. 'Assist her? More like dictate her every move.'
"Okay," she said calmly, continuing her meal.
When the stylists arrived, Jenna sat quietly and let Carla speak for her.
She watched them discuss without really listening. This wasn't her world anymore, she wouldn't fight for control today as there were many battles ahead.
"Do you think this is suitable Miss?" The hair stylist showed Jenna a picture from his catalog, his posture straight and expectant.
Jenna recognized him as a top stylist. People said one had to book appointments months in advance.
"Mmm," she replied without glancing at the screen.
The stylist's smile curdled. His hand faltered, the silence turning awkward as his ego took the hit. He withdrew the tablet with a stiff motion. His lips curled slightly as he scrunched his nose, his movements sharp and slightly impatient.
Jenna could feel his condescending gaze on her, heavy with the assumption that she was just another lucky girl who had caught a billionaire's eye. She didn't flinch. She simply met his eyes in the mirror with a cold, hollow stare that made his smug smile falter.
By the time the stylist was done with her hair, Jenna couldn't hide the slight amazement in her eyes. She was right to put her faith in Carla anyway.
Even Carla was surprised at her transformation. Her dull loose waves had been styled into glossy, refined curls that radiated a soft expensive glow. The layers were cut to frame her face perfectly, highlighting the soft curve of her jaw and the brightness of her eyes. It was a look that didn't just scream luxury, it restored her youthful glow, making her look more vibrant.
Jenna stared at her reflection more closely and felt a strange tug in her chest. For the first time in three years, she didn't see a grieving daughter but a girl who had the world at her feet again.