Wouldn’t she simply become another version of the very people who had once cast her aside? The thought settled heavily in her chest, grounding her more than anything else.

Whatever she felt, however complicated it was, she refused to let it turn her into someone she despised.

Besides, Ashley wasn’t blind to it; she could sense that Ophelia saw her as a threat, perhaps even a rival to be challenged, someone she needed to measure herself against to secure her place in this family.

But as long as it didn’t cross a line... perhaps there was room for both of them to exist here. Not everything had to end in conflict. Not everything had to turn into a battle where one had to be cast out for the other to remain.

Still, that fragile possibility came with a condition, one Ashley held onto firmly. As long as Ophelia didn’t go too far. As long as she didn’t cross into her bottom line and do something dark and cruel... something like what Maddison had done.

When the silence stretched a little too long, Ashley took it upon herself to break it. She set her glass aside and looked at them, her tone light, almost casual.

"Since you’ve already planned to go shopping, why don’t we all go together?" she suggested. "That way, you can still spend time with Ophelia like you promised... and we won’t have to split up." She paused briefly, a faint smile touching her lips. "Besides, I came here with nothing. I might as well take the chance to pick up a few clothes."

There was an ease to her now that hadn’t been there earlier; her mood noticeably lifted after the meal. Apollo caught it immediately, the tension in his shoulders loosening as he let out a quiet breath of relief.

It seemed Aunt Lavinia had been right after all; no matter how complicated things were, a proper meal could soften even the sharpest edges.

"No! Brother promised to go out with me... alone."

Ophelia’s response came too quickly, too sharp, her composure cracking just enough to reveal the insistence beneath. The thought of including Ashley clearly unsettled her.

She didn’t want to share that time, not when, in her mind, it had always belonged to her. Because once they all went together, she was certain of what would happen.

Ashley would become the center of attention, just as she already had at the table, and Ophelia would be left at the edges, overlooked and forgotten.

And it wasn’t an unfounded fear.

She had already begun to feel the subtle shift, the way their focus had drifted without her noticing, the way she had been quietly pushed aside despite trying to hold on.

It stirred her possessiveness and the desperation within her. She didn’t want to lose what she had, didn’t want to watch it slip through her fingers.

More than anything, she wanted things to return to how they were before, when their attention had been hers alone, when she didn’t have to compete, when she could hold her brothers close without anyone threatening to take that place away.

Although Ophelia’s outburst sounded undeniably childish and harsh to her, Ashley felt no anger toward her. If anything, she understood.

The change had come too suddenly, too completely, and Ophelia had no time to adjust. Seeing how openly their brothers gravitated toward Ashley, how their attention shifted so easily, must have stirred the same fear Ashley herself was quietly grappling with: the fear of losing something she had come to rely on.

And because of that, Ashley found herself softening instead of resisting.

So she stepped back.

"Alright," she said calmly, her tone light but steady. "Brother Apollo can go with you, since it was a promise. A gentleman shouldn’t break his word."

Her gaze shifted to Apollo then, and in that instant, the decision was no longer hers to carry.

Apollo stiffened slightly, a bead of sweat forming at his temple as the weight of the situation settled squarely onto him. The problem was, he didn’t even remember making such a promise.

But with Ashley having already spoken, already set the direction so naturally... could he really deny it now?

Seeing Apollo hesitate, Daemon, Gage, Archivalt, and Ace exchanged brief glances, their lips pressing together as they fought the urge to react. It took effort not to laugh, not out of mockery, but because the situation had turned so neatly against their eldest brother.

The tension that had weighed on the room earlier had begun to ease, and they could all feel the shift. Ashley’s earlier displeasure, subtle but unmistakable, had softened. It seemed she had already sorted through her thoughts, chosen her stance, and, in doing so, left the consequences squarely in Apollo’s hands.

And, admittedly, they found a bit of satisfaction in that.

After all, it had been Apollo who brought Ophelia into the family. Watching him struggle now, caught between the two, felt almost deserved. Still, none of them dared show it.

If Apollo noticed, he would surely drag them into the mess with him, and more importantly, none of them wanted to risk earning Ashley’s disfavor now that she had begun to open herself to them, even slightly.

Aunt Lavinia, however, saw something deeper.

From where she stood, she could recognize the instinct behind Ashley’s earlier withdrawal, the quiet, reflexive urge to distance herself when faced with the possibility of being replaced.

It was the kind of response born from experience, from wounds that had not yet fully healed. Ashley had likely believed, if only for a moment, that whatever place she might have had here had already been given to someone else.

And yet, despite that, she had chosen not to act on it.

Instead of pushing them away entirely, she had stepped back with restraint, with understanding. That alone spoke volumes. It revealed not only the shadows she carried, but also the strength of her character, the ability to feel deeply without letting it twist into something cruel.

Watching her now, Aunt Lavinia felt a quiet warmth settle in her chest.

This was a young lady worth welcoming home.

Sensing the direction things were taking, Aunt Lavinia stepped in with effortless grace, lending her support to Ashley without making it seem forced.

"That’s quite true," she said lightly, a hint of amusement in her tone. "If the young masters find themselves occupied, I would be more than happy to accompany the young lady instead."

She tilted her head slightly, a knowing smile touching her lips. "After all, women do tend to understand these matters better. We might even choose finer pieces on our own, straight men, as capable as they are, rarely have the best eye for what truly suits."

The brothers bristled almost immediately at Aunt Lavinia’s remark, their pride pricked in unison. "That’s not true," Ace protested, a little too quickly. "I have quite a good eye when it comes to choosing clothes..."

But even as the words left his mouth, his gaze drifted, unfortunately, toward Ophelia. More specifically, toward the pink dress she was wearing. It was soft, frilly, almost princess-like... and unmistakably youthful in a way that didn’t quite suit someone her age.

A realization hit him with perfect, and inconvenient clarity.