C12 Remember the Identity
Old Madame Munro spoke with conviction, seemingly oblivious to any inappropriateness in her words, and she certainly didn't consider the predicament Ondine might face.
Besides, that wasn't her concern!
At this moment, Old Madame Munro had no intention of letting such nuisances affect her mood.
Her attention was solely on Ilyana, not even bothering to lift an eyelid. The oppressive atmosphere was overwhelming, like an invisible boulder crushing the breath from her.
Had Ilyana not been present, Daxton would never have dared to speak so boldly to her; otherwise, he would have been promptly shown the door.
Challenging the head of the Munro family was a clear sign he no longer wished to remain in good standing with them.
Daxton cast a glance at the woman beside him, her pallor reflecting his inner turmoil. "But..."
"I've already shown you considerable leniency; don't overstep," Old Madame Munro interjected with a dismissive wave of her hand, her eyes fierce with anger. Accustomed to the battlefield, her wrath could send shivers through the entire Munro family.
"There are things I'd rather not spell out. Just remember your place!"
Her commanding tone left Daxton speechless.
He had not given Ondine the recognition she deserved, an undeniable truth.
Guilty, he averted his gaze from Ondine's bewildered and pitiful expression.
It wasn't that he didn't want to support her, but his position within the Munro family was precarious. Clinging to this issue could only jeopardize his future standing even more.
All he could hope for now was that Ondine would grasp the gravity of the situation and keep her feelings to herself.
The entire hall was gripped by a stifling atmosphere, the matriarch's inscrutable gaze casting an expansive, invisible net around the room.
Each person wore a distinct expression, yet no one dared to utter another word at such a critical juncture.
And through it all, Old Madame Munro remained stoic, not once batting an eyelid.
"Ilyana, if anyone in the family dares to bully you again, come straight to me. Your grandmother will take care of it!"
As Old Madame Munro spoke, she tenderly stroked Ilyana's hair, offering comfort with an unstoppable smile on her face.
"And Ilyana, whatever you like or desire in the future, whatever style of clothes you prefer, just tell Grandma. I'll buy them all for you! Munro family children shouldn't have to wear hand-me-downs."
Her words were unmistakably intended for the Slater mother and daughter to overhear.
Old Madame Munro's message was crystal clear: Ilyana would be her sole focus from now on. Anyone foolish enough to cross Ilyana would be picking a fight with her, and she would not be lenient.
...
The man in the corner observed the unfolding scene, his gaze intently fixed on Ilyana, who sat quietly next to Old Madame Munro. His deep, cold eyes watched her closely.
Accustomed to the allure of beauty, he found himself drawn to Ilyana's presence, taking a second glance. She was undeniably beautiful, yet her coldness was so intense it made her seem unapproachable, her eyes filled with an enigmatic loathing.
The man's icy brows lifted slightly, and his tightly drawn lips slowly curved into a smirk that was more enigmatic than amused.
Her fragile, delicate form, her stunningly beautiful face, and those seemingly pure and clear eyes held no trace of the naivety expected of a young woman. Instead, her gaze harbored an abyss of darkness, a consuming void that threatened to swallow everything in its path.
