Elizabeth’s smile was like the first rays of spring sunlight, melting away the frost and revealing a hidden warmth and grace that left Elijah momentarily speechless.
He had always been wary of women who caused disruption, particularly within the delicate dynamics of his own family.
In the past, Freya had often thrown passive-aggressive remarks toward Elizabeth. Whenever Elijah noticed, he would offer words of advice. Elizabeth would always respond with a soft smile, brushing off the tension as insignificant.
But he was a lion—how could his partner be a timid rabbit?
The Elizabeth before him now stirred something inexplicable deep within his chest.
“Freya,” Elizabeth spoke, her voice a refined instrument of precision. “You’ve been persistently pressing me about this gift. Those who understand you might interpret your actions as thoughtful. But to the uninitiated, it might seem as though you simply cannot bear to see me succeed.”
Her tone danced between playful teasing and sharp insight, effortlessly unveiling Freya’s true intentions.
Freya’s expression soured, her frustration apparent. “Since you’ve prepared a gift, why not reveal it? Why keep us waiting?”
Elizabeth turned to Wren with genuine affection. “The gift I’ve prepared is a performance. I’ll share it with you after dinner.”
Elijah adjusted his cuff, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
He hadn’t expected Elizabeth to prepare such a gift, and curiosity bubbled within him.
Though she remained the same, something about her had fundamentally shifted—she continuously defied his expectations.
Freya’s sarcastic laugh sliced through the tension. “A performance? Surely you’re not planning some melodramatic spectacle for everyone’s entertainment?”
Where Elizabeth embodied calm grace, Freya’s exaggerated reactions seemed almost crude in comparison.
