Chapter 7 Ashthorne Hall #2
I drift through the space slowly, touching everything just to make sure it’s real. The rows of books. The windowsill cushion, still warm from the sun. The silver-rimmed lamp beside the bed.
I sit on the bed and it’s like I’m sinking into a cloud.
The tears come out of nowhere. Not loud, not ugly—just quiet streaks down my cheeks as I bury my face in a pillow that smells like lavender and clean cotton.
This room is mine. No yelling outside the door. No footsteps I have to hold my breath through. No fear. No Daniel.
The air is warm and faintly perfumed, carrying the distant scent of rosemary and garlic, sharp and inviting, threading through the corridors.
It lures me forward, toward the dining room, where I’m supposed to sit as if I belong here.
My stomach twists, part nerves, part hunger, and I keep my gaze straight ahead, shoulders squared, pretending I don’t feel the weight of every step or the grandeur pressing in from all sides.
I feel like I’m being watched, even though I haven’t seen anyone. The sconces flicker with soft golden light.
The double doors at the end of the hall are already open.
Lucian stands as I enter. He’s at the head of a long, elegant table, the kind you only ever see in movies. A chandelier spills soft light across a white linen runner, flanked by silver and crystal. Everything gleams.
And at the far end of the table, a girl sits.
She straightens immediately when she sees me. Blonde hair pulled into a neat low ponytail, sharp cheekbones, pink lipstick. Her dress matches her nails, and the moment I meet her eyes, she lights up with a smile that’s so bright it throws me off balance.
“You’re here,” she says, standing up. “Hi! I’m Dakota.”
She crosses the room with the eager steps of someone who’s been waiting for this moment.
Lucian’s voice cuts through the hum in my ears. “Isobel, come in. This is my wife, Adrienne. And this—”
“I’m her stepsister,” Dakota finishes, beaming. “Technically. But who cares about technicalities?”
Adrienne rises too, elegant in that unbothered way only rich women seem to master. She offers me a small, cool smile. “Welcome, Isobel. I hope your room is comfortable.”
“It is,” I say, still trying to find my footing. “Thank you.”
Dakota gestures to the seat beside her. “Come sit. I saved you a spot. I mean, technically the housekeeper did, but I told her to.”
Lucian gives a quiet chuckle and pulls out my chair as I cross the room. I sit down, feeling like every movement is being documented, but Dakota’s warm gaze never wavers.
“I can’t believe you’re real,” she says as the first course is placed in front of us. “I’ve known about you for a while now, well, I knew there was someone. I just didn’t think I’d actually get to meet you.”
“Yeah. Me neither.” I manage a small smile, still unsure what to do with this version of events.
“Lucian told me everything,” Dakota says, reaching for her glass of water. “I mean, not everything-everything. But enough. And I just want you to know. I’m really glad you’re here. Seriously.”
Her voice is open, a little nervous even.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice quiet.
For a beat, the room settles. Cutlery clinks against porcelain. Adrienne sips her wine. Lucian watches me with something close to relief.
Dakota twists her fork between her fingers, then leans in just slightly.
“Do you… like it here so far? I know it’s a lot all at once, but I really hope it doesn’t feel awful.”
That catches me off guard. I blink. “It’s… not awful.”
Dakota lets out a soft laugh. “Okay, that’s fair. We’ll work our way up to kind of okay next.”
Lucian chuckles under his breath. Adrienne even smiles behind her glass.
I reach for my water glass and take a slow sip, glancing sideways at the girl who — hours ago — I had prepared myself to hate. She’s nothing like I expected. And even though I don’t fully trust it yet… I want to.
Dakota picks up a slice of bread from the basket and offers it to me first.
“Trust me,” she says. “The chef’s sourdough is basically a religious experience.”
I take the bread. It’s warm and fluffy. A perfect crunch on the outside with a light inside.
“That’s amazing.” I take a bite of duck. It's sweet, rich, and probably the most expensive thing I’ve ever eaten.
Dakota glances down at her plate. “I know this is weird. I’ve never had a sister before.”
“Me neither,” I admit. Maeve has always been like a sister to me, but this was official.
Her smile softens. “Well… then maybe we can figure it out together?”
I meet her eyes. There’s nothing fake there. Just honest, maybe slightly awkward, hope.
I nod slowly. “Yeah. Maybe we do.”
Lucian exhales, his shoulders dropping, and for the first time all night, I realize my shoulders aren’t as tense. Adrienne even has a faint smile as she reaches for a second pour of wine.
The conversation shifts after that, less stiff, less formal. Dakota asks what I think of the house so far, and I tell her about the painting in the hallway that I swear moved the first time I walked by. She laughs, snorting a little before she covers her mouth with a hand.
“Oh my god,” she says. “That one creeped me out as a kid, too. I used to run past it every time I had to go to piano lessons.”
“I knew it. It’s haunted.”
Lucian chuckles under his breath. “It’s eighteenth-century. Not haunted, just expensive.”
“I don’t think those are mutually exclusive.” Dakota nudges me and winks.
Adrienne stays mostly quiet, but there's no more frost in her gaze, just quiet observation. Occasionally, she makes a small comment—about the menu, about Dakota’s weekend schedule—but she’s not hostile. Just distant. Reserved. And right now, I can live with that.
“Do you like school? Are you good at it?” Dakota asks.
“I mean, it was hard with my situation.” I take a much-needed drink of water.
“You already seem smart.” Her voice is sincere. “And I bet you’re crazy brave, too. Just walking in here tonight, knowing you’d be sitting across from strangers. I’d be freaking out.”
“I kind of am,” I admit.
After dessert—some fancy, sculpted thing with chocolate ganache and gold flakes that looked more like art than food—we linger around the table, sipping drinks and trading a few stories. Nothing too deep. But it’s something. It’s more than I expected.
Eventually, Lucian rises. “I have a call in five,” he says, looking to Adrienne with a nod.
She rises gracefully, her napkin folded with precision. She leans over to kiss Dakota’s cheek, then nods at me. “Good night, Isobel.”
“Good night.”
As she disappears through a side hallway, Lucian turns to me. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I nod.
He pauses. “I’m glad you came.”
Then he’s gone.
The room falls into a comfortable silence. Dakota stands, stretching slightly, and picks up her water glass.
“Do you work out? I’m going to need to work off that chocolate.”
“I don’t. I’ve never worked out before.”
“Well, do you want to come with me tomorrow? You don’t have to do anything, I’d enjoy your company and getting to know you. And if you want to, I can help you with anything.”
I hesitate, then think fuck it.
“Sure, tomorrow.” I nod.
She nods. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
Then, before I can leave, she adds quietly, “I meant it, you know. I’m really glad you’re here.”
The moment I shut the door behind me, I lock it. The click is quiet, but it fills the whole room like a shout. My chest rises and falls as I lean back against the door.
The quiet in the room is golden and still, lit by the warm glow of the chandelier above. Everything is untouched: the soft bedding, the neatly folded clothes, the elegant desk tucked beside the window. It all looks like a magazine spread, like it belongs to someone else.
Dinner went better than I expected. No jabs. No raised voices. Dakota smiled at me, even made space at the table when she didn’t have to. Still, something in me buzzes with tension. Like I’ve been braced for impact so long, I don’t know how to stop.
I pull the sweater over my head, toss it onto a chair, and grab my phone. My thumb moves on instinct, tapping Maeve’s name.
It rings once. Twice.
“Hey,” she says, warm and familiar.
My pounding heart seems to slow and I can take a deep breath.
“How’s castle life?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “You have no idea.”
“Ooh, that good already?”
“Dinner was… honestly not what I expected.”
There’s a beat of silence. “That sounds suspiciously not terrible.”
I smile. “I met Dakota. My… stepsister. She’s my age. Beautiful. Composed. She looks like a Barbie.”
Maeve hums. “Sounds like she’s one of those ‘perfect on paper but secretly a viper’ types.”
“Actually… no. She was nice.” That surprises even me as I say it.
“Wait. Nice, nice? Or, like, ‘smiling shark’ nice?”
“She made room for me. Gave me the good bread. Even asked if I was okay. She seemed like she genuinely wanted to get know me.”
Maeve lets out a soft breath. “Wow. Okay. That’s… weirdly wholesome. I was ready to sharpen my claws.”
“I was, too.” I pace a slow circle on the rug. “I think I went in expecting a fight. I was bracing for it. But it didn’t come. Now I don’t know what to do with the fact that she might actually want me here.”
“Maybe,” Maeve says gently, “that’s allowed to feel good.”
“I want it to. I really do.”
“Then start there.”
I sit down on the bed, folding my legs beneath me. “Adrienne was quiet, but… not mean. I don’t think she knows what to do with me either.”
“You’re a walking plot twist,” Maeve says. “They had to recalibrate their whole family dynamic. They had time to get used to the idea of you, but interacting when you’re actually there is a different scenario entirely.”
I laugh under my breath. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and none of this will be real.”
“Isobel, this is real. The bed you’re sitting on? Yours. The weirdly formal dining room? Also, yours. And if anyone makes you feel like you don’t belong, just remember, you do.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I’m trying.”
Maeve’s voice softens. “You don’t have to win them over in a day. You don’t have to prove you deserve to be there. Just exist. Be you. That’s more than enough.”
Tears burn and I try to blink them away. “You always say the right things.”
“I’m your best friend. It’s literally in the job description.”
I lay back on the bed, the duvet soft and heavy across my legs. “I wish you were here.”
“I do too. But I’m only a call away. You got this, Iz. You’ve survived worse. Now you get to figure out what it means to live.”
I close my eyes. “One marble hallway at a time?”
“One fancy light switch at a time,” she corrects. “And claim the good bathroom before Dakota gets any ideas.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I laugh. “But I actually have my own bathroom.”
“Lucky bitch.” Maeve’s smile fills her voice. “I only hate you a little for that.”
“Sorry.” I wince.
“No! Don’t you dare apologize, Isobel Ashthorne. You enjoy all the perks. I’ll enjoy them when I come and visit.”
We fall quiet, the line buzzing softly between us. My heart aches, missing my best friend.
Then Maeve says, “I hope you sleep okay tonight.”
I don’t answer right away. Just let her voice settle into the quiet of the room.
“Me too,” I whisper.
“If not, text me. I’ll send you memes. Or a playlist. Or possibly threatening audio messages you can play on a speaker near Adrienne.”
That makes me smile.
“Thanks, Maeve.”
“Always.”
I end the call, set the phone down, and crawl beneath the covers. The sheets are crisp and expensive. It’s a completely new world.
I still feel like I don’t quite fit. But… maybe I could.