When Isla Prescott went downstairs, Silas Lockwood and the others had already left. Only the Lockwood Family's driver was waiting for her.
She got in the car, steadied her ragged breathing, and glanced back at the main hall. Shane Sterling had come downstairs. He was sitting on a high stool, casually flipping through a magazine from the shop. The woman who had arrived with him was trying on a strapless, daffodil-yellow gown. The woman's skin was fair, her neck was long and slender, and her radiant beauty was like that of a yellow rose.
Isla Prescott looked away.
Her phone buzzed in her bag. She took it out, unlocked it, and saw it was a message from Silas Lockwood.
Silas Lockwood: "Isabelle, I'm so sorry about today."
Isla Prescott quickly turned off the screen. She didn't want to dwell on the feeling of being manipulated into trying on gowns earlier. She wouldn't hold out any more hope for Silas Lockwood. The man who had once brought her light and warmth now only disappointed her again and again.
'Starting today, I'm going to get my vitality back. This lifeless look in my eyes isn't who I'm supposed to be. My mother risked her life to get me out of the mountains. If I fall into a slump over a secret relationship, I'll be letting my mother down, and I'll be betraying all my own hard work.'
"Miss Isabelle, shall I take you back to school?" the driver asked.
"Back to school. Thank you, Uncle Coleman."
That night, having decided to let go, Isla Prescott slept soundly for the first time in a while.
The next day, she woke up very early. After getting up, she ate an apple, grabbed her water bottle, and went to the dance studio. She had thought she could practice in peace at this hour, but unexpectedly, someone was already there.
"Did you hear? Isla Prescott got dropped off by a luxury car again last night."
"Hmph, what's so surprising about that? Dancing in a place like that, she's definitely not clean anymore."
The one who declared her "not clean" was Isla Prescott's roommate, Violet Keith. They usually got along, but recently they had been competing for a spot at the Meritopia Song and Dance Troupe.
Violet Keith was the type of person who could greet you with a smile when there was no conflict of interest, but the moment one arose, she would put her hostility on full display.
Ever since she learned that Isla Prescott was also vying for the Meritopia Song and Dance Troupe's sole recruitment spot at their school, Violet Keith had clashed with Isla Prescott in their dorm room multiple times.
The most childish incident was when Isla Prescott accidentally knocked over Violet Keith's clothes hanger while hanging her own laundry. Violet Keith had shrieked for her to pay for it, making such a scene that the entire dormitory building could hear.
Isla Prescott had long heard rumors that Violet Keith was spreading sordid gossip about her behind her back. But since she had never heard it with her own ears, she felt she couldn't condemn someone based on a few words from others, so she hadn't pursued the matter.
But now, she had heard it.
Isla Prescott wasn't actually good at arguing with people. But her line had been crossed, and there was no way she could back down.
"What kind of place do I dance at?" Isla Prescott pushed open the door to the dance studio and walked straight up to Violet Keith. "Could you please elaborate?"
Isla Prescott was usually gentle with others. It was rare to see such a piercing intensity in her eyes, and Violet Keith was stunned.
"Cat got your tongue?" Isla Prescott smiled. "Or can you only say it behind people's backs?"
Violet Keith snapped out of it. "Pah! You think I'm scared of you? Who in our class doesn't know you dance at The Lanthian Club? No matter how upscale they package a 'club,' it can't hide that it's just glittering on the outside and rotten on the inside. The Lanthian Club is just like one of those red-light dens hidden in some back alley, running a debauched business of prostitution. You make it sound nice by saying you 'dance' there, but we don't even have to guess to know the dancing is just a fig leaf. You're just selling yourself in there!"
Violet Keith's words were vile, but Isla Prescott's expression didn't change. "Are you finished? Anything else to add?"
Isla Prescott's composure was so absolute that it threw Violet Keith off. "Isla Prescott, what tricks are you playing at?"
"So you're finished. Good."
Isla Prescott looked down and tapped a few times on her phone.
Violet Keith stared at her, but Isla Prescott's phone had a privacy screen, so she couldn't see what she was doing. It wasn't until a moment later, when Violet Keith heard her own voice coming from Isla Prescott's phone, that she realized Isla Prescott had been recording her.
"Violet Keith," she said, "tell me, if this recording were to accidentally get out, how much damage do you think it would do to The Lanthian Club's reputation? And you, don't you think you'd be receiving a letter from The Lanthian Club's lawyers?"
"Don't try to scare me."
"I'm not trying to scare you. I've been dancing at the club for a long time. I might not know about other things, but I do know how big their legal team is. For this level of slander, you'd be looking at a fine at the very least, or jail time at the worst. They sue, they win. It's a sure thing."