Kamilah maintained her composure with a level of discipline that felt like a physical weight.
Every instinct told her to scream, to tear down the facade of this woman who had let Livia weave a web around them. But Kamilah simply widened her smile, her eyes are shimmering with a polite, hollow light.
Maeve, however, was not reacting the way Kamilah expected. The woman’s gaze was sharp, flickering with a confusion that bordered on suspicion. She didn’t just look at Kamilah; she searched her, her brow was furrowing as she processed the voice she thought she had heard.
There had been no one else speaking, yet the words "my scumbag of a wife" had echoed in her mind with a clarity that was impossible to ignore.
Maeve shifted her weight, her intimidating presence filled the space between them. She stared at Kamilah’s smiling face, trying to reconcile the elegant, welcoming woman with the vitriol she had just perceived.
For a moment, the usual distant expression on Maeve’s face cracked, replaced by a look of genuine bewilderment. This was not the girl she had been told about. This was not the quiet, mousy heiress who was supposed to be grateful for the opportunity to marry into the Belvedere family. This was someone else entirely.
"Nice to meet you, Kamilah," Maeve replied, her voice was deep and cautious. She didn’t smile back. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her eyes are locking onto Kamilah’s as if trying to peel back the layers of the mask.
"You seem... different from what I was told." Kamilah tilted her head, her expression was curious but unbothered. "Really? I did not know someone was interested enough to share their experience about me to you, Ms. Maeve. May I ask what they said? If you don’t mind me asking?"
The question caught everyone off guard. Her parents exchanged glances, their confusion was evident. This was not how Kamilah was supposed to act. She was supposed to be quiet, obedient, and grateful for whatever crumbs of attention were thrown her way.
She was not supposed to be confident, not supposed to ask questions, and not supposed to command the attention of the room with such effortless grace.
Maeve was about to respond, but before she could, Kamilah remembered something. "Maria?" She called to a housemaid, her voice wascarrying across the room with quiet authority.
The maid immediately approached and her steps were quick and deferential. "Yes, young miss?"
"I forgot to serve tea to our guests. Can you bring the tea set, perhaps?" Kamilah said, her tone was polite but firm. Then she turned back to Emelda, her expression contrite but not groveling. "Forgive me, madam. It was a mistake of me to almost forget that you are guests. Please forgive me."
Her voice was not shaking or losing its confidence. She was just apologizing for a small inconvenience and nothing too dramatic. It was a masterful display of social grace, a reminder that she was the heiress of this house, that she had the authority to manage the household staff, and that she was not a guest in her own home.
The air in the room shifted. Kamilah’s parents looked as if they had seen a ghost. They were accustomed to a daughter who apologized for breathing the same air as them, not one who managed the household staff with effortless authority.
By taking charge of the tea service, Kamilah wasn’t just being a good hostess—she was asserting her ownership of the space. She was no longer a guest in her own home. She was the lady of the house, and everyone in the room knew it.
Emelda’s expression grew more appreciative by the second. She had expected a fragile doll that she could mold or discard. Instead, she found a woman of poise and social intelligence.
The way Kamilah apologized was masterful. It wasn’t a plea for forgiveness, but a polished social grace that elevated her status in the eyes of the guests. It was the kind of behavior that Emelda herself had perfected over decades of navigating high society, and she recognized it in Kamilah with a mixture of surprise and respect.
Maeve, however, remained unsettled. She didn’t look at the maid or her parents. Her eyes were remained fixed on Kamilah. The confidence was intoxicating, but it was the gap between the polite words and that strange, internal voice she had sensed earlier that intrigued her.
Maeve had always prided herself on her ability to read people, to understand their motivations and predict their actions. But Kamilah had suddenly become a locked door with a key that had been thrown away. She was an enigma, and Maeve found herself wanting to solve the puzzle.
"There is no need for apologies," Maeve said, her voice was low and resonant, cutting through the tension. She didn’t break eye contact, her gaze was intense. "I find that mistakes are often the most interesting part of a conversation. As for what I was told... They said you were quiet. Very quiet." A ghost of a smirk touched Maeve’s lips because it was a challenge in her eyes. "It seems they were wrong."
The tea set arrived, carried by a maid who placed it carefully on the table between the families. Kamilah elegantly folded her skirt on her knees and knelt on the floor just to serve the tea.
It was a gesture of humility that somehow managed to convey power, a reminder that she was willing to serve but only on her own terms. This image deeply made the matriarch love her, which made Livia roll her eyes away from irritation.
"They’re not wrong, Ms. Maeve," Kamilah answered, her voice was calm and measured as she carefully poured tea into each cup. She made sure the aroma and taste were perfect for the temperature and her movements were precise and practiced.
"It is true that I am quiet and meek most of the time. But when needed, I can be someone else too. It’s just that you must learn how to accept parts of yourself without calling them broken. Because if you think you’re broken, people will also think that way. And that drama is too exhausting."
The room fell into a heavy silence as Kamilah served the tea, her movements were fluid and precise. To her parents, this was an anomaly. They had never encouraged her to seek such knowledge, and they certainly hadn’t noticed her spending time in etiquette or cultural classes.
To them, she was a failure of a daughter. But to the Belvedere patriarch and matriarch, she was suddenly a treasure—a polished gem hidden in a pile of rubble.
The patriarch of the Belvedere family, Patrick Belvedere, was impressed by Kamilah’s tea-serving skills. "Ms. Kamilah, if you don’t mind me asking, where have you learned such skills?" He kept his voice professional yet intrigued, his eyes were studying her with new interest.
"I learned it from a few friends of mine, sir," Kamilah answered, her voice was steady and respectful. "When I was in high school, I used to attend an extra etiquette class and Chinese culture classes as an added subject. Nothing special." She served them the tea carefully with the saucers, her movements were graceful and unhurried.
Livia’s irritation was palpable. She shifted in her seat, her perfect smile was now looking strained. For years, Livia had been the only "perfect" one in the room, the one who knew exactly how to charm and manipulate.
She had been the center of attention, the golden child, the one everyone admired and adored. Now, she was being overshadowed by the very person she considered a stepping stone.
The subtle shift in the room’s power dynamic was intoxicating to Kamilah, who could feel the Belvedere’s admiration acting as a shield against her own family’s disdain.
Maeve, however, didn’t look at the tea. She watched the way Kamilah spoke, the philosophy behind her words about being broken. It was a level of psychological insight that didn’t belong to a sheltered socialite.
It sounded like the wisdom of someone who had already seen the end of their life and had come back with the blueprints of human suffering.
"An extra subject, is it?" Maeve murmured, her voicewas barely audible to the others, though she leaned closer to Kamilah as she accepted the cup. Her fingers brushed against Kamilah’s for a fleeting second, and Maeve’s eyes darkened with a sharp, analytical intensity.
"You speak as if you’ve spent a lifetime studying the art of pretending, Kamilah. I wonder... What else are you hiding behind that perfect pour?"
Kamilah met her gaze without flinching, her smile never wavering. "Everyone has their secrets, Ms. Maeve. Even you." She paused, letting the words hang in the air between them. "The question is whether we’re brave enough to share them with the right person."
Maeve’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passed through them. She opened her mouth to respond, but Emelda’s voice cut through the moment, calling for everyone’s attention.
"I believe we have much to discuss," the matriarch announced, her voice was carrying the weight of authority. "Shall we move to the dining room? I believe refreshments have been prepared."
The families rose from their seats, the tension in the room shifted as they began to move toward the dining area. Kamilah remained on her knees for a moment longer, watching as the others filed out.
She caught Livia’s eye as the girl passed, and for a brief second, the mask slipped. Livia’s expression was cold, calculating, filled with a hatred that she usually hid behind her innocent smile.
Kamilah smiled back, a warm, genuine smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She had seen the future that Livia would create, the suffering and death and destruction that would follow in her wake. And she was not going to let it happen again.
She rose gracefully to her feet, smoothing down her dress and composing herself. The game had only just begun, but she was already winning.
She had planted the seeds of doubt in Maeve’s mind, had impressed the Belvedere matriarch, and had irritated Livia enough to make her slip. And she had done it all while maintaining the perfect image of a poised, elegant heiress.
As she followed the others into the dining room, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. She knew what she had to do now. She had to secure this arrangement, not because she wanted to marry Maeve, but because it was the first step in her plan.
It would give her access to the Belvedere family, to their resources and their connections. It would take her out of the Worthington house and away from Livia’s influence.
And it would give her time to figure out exactly how to destroy the woman who had ruined everything.
She would play the role of the perfect wife, the devoted daughter-in-law, and the graceful heiress. She would smile and charm and pretend, just as she had done in her previous life. But this time, she would be the one in control. This time, she would be the one pulling the strings.
And this time, she would make sure that Livia Worthington will never saw the light of that day again.