In the grand dining room of the Foster mansion, the atmosphere that evening was unusually alive. Crystal chandeliers cast warm golden light over the long mahogany table that could seat twelve people, silverware clinking softly against porcelain as servants moved quietly in the background. The change in mood came from one person alone—Katherine.
She sat gracefully in the chair that had always belonged to Kristine.
The moment Morgan entered and saw her there, his expression darkened.
A crease formed between his brows as his cold gaze settled on Katherine.
"That’s Kristine’s seat," he said flatly, his voice carrying enough weight to silence the room.
Katherine paused mid-motion, though the small smile on her lips remained.
"Well, my sister isn’t here," she replied lightly, smoothing a hand over her dress. "Besides... it’s only a seat."
Morgan’s jaw tightened.
"Katie," he warned, his tone low and dangerous, "don’t overstep your line."
At once, Katherine’s expression shifted. Her green eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked up at him with practiced hurt.
"I’m sorry, Morgan," she said softly. "I only thought I could help lighten the mood while I’m here."
For several long seconds, Morgan held her gaze. Those eyes looked very similar to his wife’s when she felt aggrieved.
The tension between them thickened so heavily that even the servants lowered their heads.
Then he exhaled sharply and leaned back into his chair.
"Forget it," he muttered. "You’re right. It’s just a seat."
From across the table, Isobel quietly observed the exchange.
She had been invited to dine with them tonight, but now she wished she could disappear into the wallpaper instead. The air around Morgan and Katherine felt strained, layered with emotions she couldn’t understand.
Why did Morgan seem so irritated with Katherine?
Wasn’t she his wife’s twin sister?
"Isobel."
The gentleness in Morgan’s voice startled her. The spoon halfway to her mouth froze in midair.
"Sir?" she answered hesitantly.
Morgan glanced at her briefly before reaching for his wine glass.
"You can start reporting to the office on Monday," he said calmly. "The twins are almost two months old now. I just hope they’ll adjust well to bottle-feeding."
Relief flickered across Isobel’s face.
"Don’t worry, Sir—"
"Morgan," the man beside her interrupted.
She blinked.
"Huh?"
"At home, just call me Morgan. No need for formalities."
Isobel stared at him, slightly stunned. A faint crease appeared between her brows before she slowly nodded.
"Ella and Anna started bottle-feeding them two days ago," she explained carefully. "They’re adjusting better than we expected."
Morgan gave a small nod.
"That’s good then."
Beside him, Katherine’s fingers curled tightly around her fork.
The casual exchange between Morgan and Isobel grated against her nerves. Morgan’s tone toward the young woman was patient—almost gentle—and Katherine hated it.
"Morgan," she suddenly interjected, her voice sharper than before, "why would Isobel be coming to your office?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly at Isobel.
"Shouldn’t she be taking care of the twins? Wasn’t that what she was hired for?"
Morgan slowly turned toward Katherine, annoyance flashing openly in his eyes now.
"Isobel graduated top of her class," he said coolly. "From one of the most prestigious state universities in the country. Wouldn’t sixteen years of education be wasted if she spent the rest of her life as nothing more than a nanny?"
The table fell silent.
Katherine’s lips parted, but no words came out immediately.
She hadn’t known that.
All this time, she had assumed Isobel was simply hired help.
"Well... I..."
Embarrassment burned beneath her skin.
Her gaze snapped toward Isobel, expecting smugness or triumph, but the other woman remained completely absorbed in her food, blissfully unaware of the hostility directed at her.
That only made Katherine angrier even more. A bitter thought clawed its way into her chest.
Why was Morgan treating Isobel differently?
Could he actually be attracted to her?
But that made no sense.
Morgan had loved Kristine obsessively. His wife had been the center of his world. How could a man like that suddenly pay attention to another woman?
Still, Katherine couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable feeling growing inside her.
Her narrowed eyes lingered on Isobel.
She couldn’t allow her to get any closer to Morgan.
"How come you let her work in your company," Katherine pressed, her voice trembling with grievance, "but you always rejected me?"
Morgan let out a humorless chuckle.
"What more do you want, Katie?" he asked lazily. "I’ve already helped you secure countless endorsements."
The dismissive tone in his voice made it clear the discussion was over.
Katherine bit the inside of her cheek, swallowing the frustration threatening to spill out.
Meanwhile, Morgan’s gaze unconsciously drifted back toward Isobel.
She had already lost most of the weight she gained during pregnancy. The dullness that once shadowed her complexion had faded, revealing clearer skin and delicate features that were becoming more striking each day. Her nose was elegant and refined, with a high bridge and naturally projected tip, and a proportional nostril width that harmonizes seamlessly with her distinct features. It gave her face a quiet sophistication.
Morgan frowned slightly.
There was something strangely familiar about her appearance.
Something he couldn’t quite place.
It felt as though he had seen her somewhere before... long before she ever entered the Foster mansion.
But how could that be?
Morgan had personally looked into Isobel’s background before allowing her into the Foster mansion. There had been nothing unusual about her past—nothing that should have connected her to him in any way.
She had spent her entire childhood in an orphanage, growing up without family or influence. Even during college, she had lived quietly in the school dormitory, surviving on scholarships and exhausting part-time jobs. She worked night shifts in the university library and cafeteria just to earn enough money for her daily expenses.
Her life had been painfully ordinary.
And yet...
Why did her face stir something buried deep inside his memory?
Morgan’s eyes narrowed slightly as Isobel tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Then suddenly—
A fragmented image flashed through his mind.
Fire.
A gentle and loving pair of black eyes.
And then everything went black.