The morning light filtered into the Foster mansion, but the atmosphere inside was anything but peaceful. Voices echoed through the halls as a heated argument erupted between Mia, Matthew, and the stranger from the previous night.

“Don’t speak to me!” Mia snapped, glaring at the man standing in front of her, her voice sharp with anger.

Matthew, her father, stood beside her, his expression just as stern. He stared at the man, his fury barely contained.

Camilla entered the room, curious about the commotion, but froze in shock the moment she saw the man. Her heart skipped a beat. What is he doing here? she thought nervously, panic flickering in her chest.

The stranger, however, was the first to speak, his voice low but laced with anger. “I should be the one who’s angry,” he said, glaring at the family. “What happened to make my precious sister, Eva, get married against her will?”

Mia shifted uncomfortably, her anger softening into guilt. “Please, don’t get angry. It’s complicated,” she said, her voice quiet as she tried to explain the events that had led to Eva’s sudden marriage.

The man’s eyes darkened as he processed Mia’s explanation. Then, his gaze shifted sharply to Camilla. “Where is your daughter, Jessica?” he asked coldly, his tone filled with venom.

Camilla stiffened under the weight of his glare, fear blooming in her chest. “I-I don’t know,” she stammered nervously. “I have no idea where she is.”

The man’s expression remained hard, unconvinced. But before he could press further, Matthew stepped forward, placing a protective hand on his wife’s shoulder. “No one knows where Jessica is,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The man’s jaw tightened, but he relented for the moment. “And who did Eva marry?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of anger and curiosity.

Mia hesitated for a moment before answering. “Andrew King,” she whispered.

The man’s eyes widened in disbelief. “The King family?” He couldn’t hide the shock on his face, but before he could react further, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the staircase.

“I have something to tell you, Uncle!” Irene called, running into the room. She stopped short, her eyes landing on the man. Her expression shifted from excitement to recognition, and she pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You!”

The man smirked, clearly amused by her reaction. “Me?” he said, placing a hand on his chest in mock innocence. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Irene King, daughter of Leonard King,” Irene said proudly, lifting her chin in defiance.

The man’s smirk deepened. “Ah, Andrew’s little sister. How delightful.”

Irene narrowed her eyes. “And just who are you?”

The man straightened, exuding a quiet confidence. “Tristan Foster,” he said simply.

Irene’s jaw dropped. “Tristan… Eva’s brother?”

Mia nodded, stepping forward. “Yes, Tristan is my brother too. You should speak nicely to him. And he’s your sister-in-law’s brother, after all.”

Irene stood frozen, her mind racing as her fingers absently brushed against her lips—the memory of the kiss from the previous night suddenly flooding back. Tristan noticed her subtle gesture and gave her a knowing smirk, clearly aware of what was on her mind.

Meanwhile, at the King mansion, Eva lay curled up on her bed, tears soaking into her pillow. The events of the previous day weighed heavily on her heart. The more she tried to make things work with Andrew, the more distant he seemed. She felt hopeless and exhausted, her heart heavy with sorrow.

Andrew, however, had gone to the dining room for lunch, expecting Eva to join him. When he noticed her absence, he asked the maid where she was.

“Mrs. King won’t be joining you for lunch, sir,” the maid said hesitantly.

Andrew’s jaw tightened. He hated disruptions to his routine. No more tantrums, he thought as he made his way to Eva’s room. He knocked firmly on the door.

“Eva,” he called, his voice sharp. He could hear her quiet sobbing from the other side.

“I don’t want to eat. Please leave me alone,” Eva’s voice cracked through the door.

Andrew’s jaw clenched. “Open the door, Eva,” he said firmly. When there was no response, he added coldly, “If you don’t open it, I’ll break it down.”

There was a long silence, but finally, Eva’s soft footsteps approached the door. She opened it slowly, revealing her tear-streaked face. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she quickly looked down, not wanting Andrew to see her like this.

Andrew stepped inside without a word and sat on the couch. “Sit,” he ordered.

Eva hesitated for a moment but knew better than to defy him when he used that tone. She quietly sat beside him, her hands folded in her lap.

Andrew called for the maid and instructed her to bring their lunch to the room. “Go wash your face,” he told Eva sternly.

Eva stood and made her way to the bathroom. When she returned, the food had already been arranged on the table. They ate in silence, the tension between them palpable.

When the meal was finished, Eva looked at Andrew, tears welling up again. “Andrew, I give up,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Andrew glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Why?” he asked calmly. “We still have three months left. Are you giving up already?”

Eva wiped at her eyes. “I just… I can’t do this anymore. It’s never going to work between us.”

Andrew leaned back slightly, watching her with an expression that was both distant and curious. “I don’t know if it will or won’t,” he said nonchalantly. “Just give it a try.”

Eva blinked, stunned by his words. “You mean… you’ll accept me?”

Andrew’s gaze softened slightly, his usual coldness momentarily absent. “Maybe,” he murmured.

For the first time, a small spark of hope bloomed in Eva’s chest. It was faint, but it was there. Andrew stood and gave her a small nod. “Sleep. You’ll feel better.”

Without another word, he left the room, leaving Eva sitting on the edge of the bed, still stunned by their conversation.

“Did I really just speak to Andrew?” she whispered to herself, disbelief tinged with a glimmer of hope.

Back at the Foster mansion, Irene lay awake in Mia’s room, replaying the events of the day over and over in her mind. Her encounter with Tristan lingered at the forefront of her thoughts. What just happened? she wondered, her fingers once again brushing against her lips.

The kiss—the unexpected, fleeting kiss—had left her rattled in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She told herself it was just a mistake, but deep down, she knew it was more than that. And somehow, she had a feeling that Tristan knew it too.

This tangled web of relationships was only getting more complicated—and Irene, along with Eva, knew this was only the beginning.