Kelsey walked down the grand staircase not like a long-lost orphan, but like a queen reclaiming her throne. The modified red dress was a statement-a bold, fiery rejection of their stuffy traditions.
Reginald Montgomery frowned slightly at the sight of it. "That's... unconventional."
"She's beautiful," Eleonora countered, shooting her husband a warning look.
Clare, in a conservative, pale blue gown, looked like a washed-out watercolor painting next to Kelsey's vibrant flame. She quickly recovered her composure and guided them to the dining room, making sure to sit right next to Kelsey.
When the first course arrived, Clare picked up her silverware with practiced, delicate grace. Kelsey ignored hers and tore off a piece of bread with her fingers.
Clare let out a soft, tinkling laugh. "Oh, Kelsey. In this house, we use a fork."
"In the last house, I wasn't always allowed to eat," Kelsey retorted, her voice flat. "I find food is for eating, not for performing."
The table fell silent. Reginald cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation to safer waters.
Clare saw her opening. "Speaking of the future," she said, her voice filled with false concern, "what are your plans for school, Kelsey? We can't have a Montgomery heiress with only a community college transcript."
Kelsey shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'll get a job. Work at a diner."
Clare's eyes lit up with malicious glee. "Father, we can't allow that! The family's reputation..." She turned to Kelsey, her expression a perfect mask of sisterly care. "I have the perfect solution. There's a wonderful finishing school in Switzerland. They teach etiquette, history, the arts... It would be perfect for you to catch up."
Reginald considered it. "An excellent idea, Clare. It would help her integrate."
"But she just got here," Eleonora protested, looking distressed at the thought of another separation.
"It's for the best," Clare pressed on, sensing victory. "It's a very immersive program. They only allow family visits once a year."
She was trying to exile her.
Kelsey put down her bread and looked at Clare, a slow, amused smile spreading across her face.
"I'll go," she said suddenly.
Everyone stared at her, stunned. Clare's jaw dropped.
Kelsey picked up her wine glass and raised it in a mock toast to Clare. "Honestly, if it means getting away from certain hypocrites, I'd go to Antarctica."
Clare's face turned a blotchy red. She had been so perfectly insulted, she couldn't even protest.
Kelsey then turned her sharp gaze on Eleonora. "Mother," she began, her tone softening slightly, "I noticed during dinner you keep pressing on your stomach. And you've only been drinking warm water. Are you feeling unwell?"
Eleonora's hand flew to her abdomen. "How... how did you know?"
"You've been doing it all night," Kelsey continued, her voice now calm and steady. "It seems to hurt more after you eat. It's probably nothing, but I spent a lot of time reading medical journals at the Hills'. It's always best to get things checked out. You should see a good gastroenterologist."
Reginald looked shocked. "Eleonora, you never told me you were in pain."
"You're cursing her!" Clare shrieked, finding her voice. "You're making it up! You're a monster!"
Kelsey ignored her. She looked directly at Eleonora, her eyes conveying a sincerity that cut through Clare's hysteria. "Please, just make an appointment. For my peace of mind."
The genuine concern in Kelsey's voice was something Eleonora hadn't heard in years. It was more valuable than any diagnosis. She nodded slowly. "Alright, dear. I will."
