The Lancaster dining room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Claudia had always been like a hedgehog—every quill out, every word sharp enough to draw blood. Every fight with her ended in an explosion, never peace. Tonight was one of the rare times she'd actually sat down at the same table with them… and not one person thought to apologize. But she was right. They'd judged too fast, too blindly. She had every reason to be angry. And really, what was an apology? It would cost them nothing—just a few words to give her some dignity, to patch over the cracks in their perfect family picture. "I'm sorry," Lydia said suddenly, cutting off everyone else. "Claudia, I'll apologize on behalf of the family. It all happened because I was hurt and they panicked. If you have to hate someone, hate me." "What does this have to do with you? Julie's the one behind the car crash, the one who acted out of line," Lottie said quickly. And just like that, the chorus began again—everyone comforting Lydia, forgetting Claudia like always. Claudia didn't flinch. She only fixed her gaze on Wilson. Wilson cleared his throat, his voice a little stiff. "I misjudged you this time. Tell me what you want. I'll make it right." "Shares…" she said slowly, letting the word hang there. Their faces froze. Then Claudia smiled faintly. "Forget it. Even if I asked, you wouldn't give them." Every Lancaster child received five percent of the family company when they came of age. Claudia's shares had long ago been reassigned to Lydia—because they all decided she owed her.What was five percent compared to Lydia's mother's life? Wilson's chest tightened at her tone, though he couldn't explain why. "If you really want to ease your guilt," Claudia said coolly, "then transfer Grandma's house to me." The house wasn't worth much—not in money. Its value was in memory. It wasn't an outrageous request. Yet Wilson and Lottie exchanged uneasy glances. Wilson avoided her eyes. "We'll talk about it after your engagement." "I told you—there won't be an engagement. Jasper and I are done." Her eyes were like ice. "You said I could ask for anything, but you won't give me a single thing. This is your idea of sincerity?" Challenged so directly, Wilson's temper snapped. His palm slammed the table. "You treat marriage like a child's game. I don't agree to breaking it off. No wedding, no house." "That house was Grandma's gift to me," Claudia shot back. "What right do you have to use it against me?" "By right of being your father! By right of the deed being in your mother's name!" His voice rose. "Do you have any idea how many business ties the Fentons have with the Lancasters? Do you know what happens if this marriage collapses?" Claudia let out a short, cold laugh. "And what does Lancaster business have to do with me?" She'd never received a single cent in dividends anyway. Wilson, cornered, struck again. "If you won't marry, then Lydia will. And the house will go to her instead. She's your grandmother's granddaughter too! Who said it had to be you?" Something in those words shattered her last restraint.Claudia shot to her feet—and with one violent motion, flipped the entire dining table. Bowls crashed, broth and wine splashed across the room, soaking everyone in reach. Chaos erupted. Her eyes burned red as she glared at them all—predator sharp, unblinking. "Give it to her? Does she deserve it?" When the table went over, Lottie had thrown herself over Lydia to protect her. But Claudia's strength had been brutal—hot broth still splattered down Lydia's head. Lydia's lips trembled. "Claudia, even if you hate me, Grandma was my grandma too. Why would you say that?" Zane spat out his food. "Don't waste your breath on her. She's crazy." "Unfilial wretch!" Wilson roared. "Flipping the table in front of your parents—what won't you dare do next?" Lottie's face twisted between rage and panic. Clarence rushed to help Lydia and their mother, checking if they were burned. The maid stood frozen at the doorway, trembling, unsure if she should step in to clean up the wreckage. Wilson wiped broth from his face, voice dark as thunder. "Listen to me, Claudia. You want that house? Then you'll go through with the engagement. That's the deal. Play your part this month—or forget it." He thought he had her figured out. The Fenton boy loved her—twenty years of childhood friendship didn't dissolve overnight. He believed she'd give in, eventually. But the look in her eyes wasn't anger—it was something colder. She stared at him across the ruined table and felt nothing. No warmth, no familiarity. Only distance.He might've forgotten, but she remembered. When she was little, he used to lift her onto his shoulders, laughing, promising that only the best man in the world would ever marry his little princess. That if anyone made her cry, he'd break that man's legs himself. Now, her voice was ice. "Ignoring Grandma's last wish—aren't you afraid her ghost will come for you in the night? Wilson. Lottie. Do you really sleep soundly?" Her disheveled hair, her bloodshot eyes, that pale, hollow face—she looked like something risen straight out of the grave. For a second, they all went still. Even the air seemed to freeze. But Wilson was stubborn. Claudia knew nothing would change tonight. So she turned to leave. On her way out, she grabbed a chair—then smashed it against a display cabinet. Glass exploded. Three antique vases, a painting, five ornaments—all gone in seconds. The Lancasters' fortune had never been hers anyway. Why should she feel guilty breaking it? They just sat there, stunned—silent and cowed by her fury. Not one of them dared move. As she reached the door, Wilson shouted after her, "Your grandmother's house—" "I don't want it anymore." Her voice was flat, final. Jasper was tainted by Lydia—filth she'd never touch again. And if Grandma's gift had become a knife turned against her, then surely the woman in heaven wouldn't rest easy. That house had already betrayed Grandma's will. So Claudia wouldn't be chained to it anymore, no matter how much it tore at her heart. She walked out, spine straight, steps steady—like nothing in the world could break her. Only the shimmer in her eyes, and the slight tremor in her hands, gave her away. She told herself silently, Claudia, don't look back. Just keep walking.