CHAPTER 81: FINE DINING WITH A SIDE OF MAGIC

"Mrs. Montrose, you have an amazing daughter." The Baroness smiles, poised, polished, weaponized.

"Thea is very smart, accurate, and brave. I applaud you for your success as a mother. You must be proud, as you should."

She gives Leila a slight bow, all elegance and fake grace.

Then she turns to Theo, lets out a gentle, sympathetic sigh.

"It is very unfortunate, what happened to you, my dear Young Thea."

Her head tilts, voice soft with a sharpened edge.

"Would you enlighten us, these old-fashioned women, on how your generation thinks?"

A pause.

"Please... tell us why you ran away, child?"

Leila pales.

The only question she’s terrified to ask, yet has been dying to ask, is suddenly spoken aloud by a stranger.

In public.

Directed at her daughter.

Her daughter who has never, not once, spoken her mind like this at home, let alone in a battlefield of vipers like this.

Theo’s performance at the press conference doesn’t count in Leila’s mind. Arthur was there.

To her, that entire scene was orchestrated by Arthur and her daughter was simply following her older brother’s lead.

Never once did she consider it was Theo.

And now, here, surrounded by vultures dressed in silk, without Arthur’s presence, Leila is terrified Theo will crumble.

She’s terrified that what happened before was just a fluke, a lucky break, not strength.

Leila’s heart is pounding so hard her ears are ringing.

She can feel a panic attack creeping up on her, in public, of all places, while her daughter is being cornered and humiliated.

And she can’t do anything.

She can’t protect her.

This is Leila’s worst nightmare.

Suddenly, a hand reaches over and covers her own — hands that were clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

The hand resting on hers is smooth like jade, warm, steady.

That warmth snaps Leila back from the edge of panic, grounding her.

She looks at the owner of the hand.

Theo.

He’s looking at her with a gentle smile — reassuring her, steadying her.

The daughter, the one currently being socially ambushed, is the one supporting the mother.

So who exactly is the fragile one here?

Theo squeezes her hands lightly, then turns his gaze to the Baroness.

"I apologize, Your Ladyship," he says softly. "I can’t fully answer your question. Not because I’m afraid or ashamed... but because even my mother doesn’t know. I want her to be the first to hear it."

He pauses, then adds calmly,

"But I can say this: I ran because of my own stupidity. I’ve realized that now. And I won’t make the same mistake again."

He finishes with a sad, sincere smile, strong but vulnerable, and the shift in the room is immediate.

Sympathy replaces judgment.

The ladies don’t feel contempt anymore.

They feel protective.

However, one woman at the table sees none of the sympathy the others now feel.

Margareth.

She scoffs, loudly, the kind of ugly, bitter sound that cuts straight through the table’s regained calm.

Every head snaps toward her.

She’s lost her self-control completely.

"It’s easy for you to say that," she spits. "Pretending to be innocent! The truth is, you ran away with a man and lived with him for five days. You’re a—"

Her voice rises, shrill and venomous.

"—you’re a slut!"

Gasps explode around the table. Even the Baroness stiffens, her face twisting in genuine offense.

Not because she cares about Theo.

But because Margareth’s outburst is crude, low-class, and public. It is a cardinal sin in the Baroness’ book.

Leila shoots to life like she’s been slapped.

"Margareth," she says, voice cold and trembling with fury, "if you have a problem with me, then tell me directly. Do not insult my daughter. You know nothing about her."

Margareth laughs, a jagged, ugly sound.

"Problem with you? I have a problem with your family! I have a problem with all Montroses! You’re nothing but ungrateful parasites! You don’t deserve to be here. You’re not worthy!"

"Margareth Blackwood!"

Veronica Shutter’s voice cracks like a whip.

"That is not how we speak to our guests. Mrs. Montrose and Ms. Montrose were invited here today. Please control yourself!"

Veronica has no choice, Margareth’s behavior is stepping far beyond rudeness.

It’s humiliating for all of them.

But Margareth refuses to back down. Her hatred for the Montroses blinds her completely.

"I am saying nothing but the truth! Where do you think they get their money?"

She shoots to her feet and jabs a shaking finger toward Leila and Theo.

"They stole our technology and claimed it as their own! And that’s not all! My grandmother was killed by her grandfather-in-law, Henri Montrose!"

Her face twists until she looks almost unrecognizable. Murder is written all over her expression.

The air suddenly shifts.

Margareth blinks.

Then she starts to wheeze, as if the air thickens around her throat.

Theo’s eyes snap to the Baroness. He feels it instantly.

Magic! She is using magic!

The Baroness is casting a spell the proper way, with a whisper.

A mage must voice the spell, even if it is only under their breath, and the Baroness is murmuring the chant with practiced ease.

It’s a basic wind spell, but it’s still proper magic! Theo’s pulse spikes. Not because he is scared, but because this is the first real spell he has sensed in this world.

And the Baroness is aiming it at Margareth.

Seeing Margareth struggle for breath sends Veronica into a panic. She gets up at once and rushes to Margareth’s side. She pats her back, trying to steady her.

"Easy, Margareth. Easy. Don’t panic. Calm down. Breathe."

It takes a few seconds, but Margareth finally starts pulling in air again. Relief washes over her face. Veronica keeps tapping her back, slow and steady, guiding her breaths.

When she can breathe properly, Veronica hands her a glass of water.

"Here. Just a sip. Slowly."

Margareth obeys. Her chest rises and falls too fast. Her palms are cold. Sweat beads along her hairline. She looks shaken to the bone. She knows something hit her. Something invisible. Something that grabbed her throat.

The other ladies are relieved too. This luncheon was supposed to be a delicate social dance, but it has devolved into pure spectacle.

Then the Baroness speaks.

"Margareth."

Her voice is cold, controlled, and sharp enough to cut.

"That is not how a lady of the Arvion High Societe behaves. This is neither the time nor the place to enact your family’s private vendettas. We are here to get to know Mrs. Montrose and Ms. Montrose, not to ambush them."

Margareth goes pale.

Only now does it hit her: she didn’t just insult Leila and Theo, she insulted the Baroness’ table.

She doesn’t care about what the other ladies think. Her family is wealthy enough to shrug off their opinions. But the Baroness?

No.

She cannot afford to anger the Baroness.

Blackwood Enterprises survives half its business hurdles because of the doors the Baroness can open.

And because of the doors she can shut.

"I..." Margareth tries to speak.

The Baroness cuts her off with a calm finality.

"I believe you need to step outside and breathe, Margareth. Go home. Rest. And do not leave your house if you are unwell."

It isn’t a suggestion.

It is a sentence.

Margareth freezes. Everyone at the table knows exactly what that means.

The Baroness has passed judgment.

Margareth Blackwood is to leave the luncheon immediately, return home, and stay there until the Baroness decides she may appear in public again. A quiet, elegant house arrest disguised as concern.

Her fate is sealed.

"Yes, Your Ladyship." She whispers it, small and defeated.

But even in disgrace, Margareth feels a flicker of relief.

The Baroness did not order her to apologize to the Montroses.

And nothing in her tone hinted at retaliation toward Blackwood Enterprises.

Margareth knows when to retreat.

She gathers her things with stiff, shaky hands, gives the Baroness a proper curtsy, forces a polite smile at the other ladies, and walks toward the exit.

Not once does she look at Leila or Theo.

First, because she refuses to let her hatred flare up again. She can’t risk another slip.

Second... she cannot bear the thought of seeing triumph in their eyes.

She would break.

Suddenly, Theo’s phone vibrates.

He checks the screen: ARTHUR MONTROSE

He gives the table a small polite smile. "Excuse me for a moment."

He steps far enough not to be overheard, but stays where he can still keep Leila in sight. He’s not about to leave her unguarded.

He answers softly, "Hello, Arthur?"

"Thea? Are you okay?" Arthur’s voice is tense.

"Yes. I’m fine. Everything is under control."

"Julian’s alarm went off. It sent me a notification, said there was a spike of energy near you. Just a few minutes ago. Only lasted a moment. I wanted to check on you and Mom."

Theo raises a brow. "Julian’s machine sure is sensitive. But yes, we’re both okay."

"Yeah, he’s been tweaking it ever since the 100% incident. Anyway, good. How’s the luncheon going?"

"We’ll explain when we get home." Theo pauses. "Arthur, that spike Julian’s machine picked up... did it give you the purity reading?"

"It should. But I don’t have the detailed report. The Arcatherm’s in Julian’s lab. I only got the alert. Why?"

"Nothing. Just curious. We’ll see you later."

"Alright. Bye, Thea."

Theo hangs up, slips the phone back into his handbag, and walks toward the table.

As he approaches, he catches the tail end of a question from one of the ladies:

"...you and your husband meet?"