In the Bennett family's living room, things had just quieted down after the earlier drama.
The fancy dinner Helena had orchestrated with such precision had been delayed, and now, as the five finally sat at the table, only Selene seemed completely unbothered. She took her time, relaxed, and dug into the food as if she were at a five-star buffet. The others? They poked at their plates, appetite thoroughly defeated.
Julian Voss watched his daughter, heart tightening slightly, imagining she must have starved in that village, constructing a whole tragic backstory in his mind.
What he didn't realize was simple—Selene just really loved eating meat. Diets and calorie counting? Not her thing. And yet, somehow, she maintained that impeccable, sculpted figure—the kind people envied but never understood.
Vivian Voss seethed silently. Was Selene possessed by some ravenous ghost? Keep eating, she thought bitterly—maybe one day you'll finally pack on a few pounds.
For years, Vivian had starved herself, counting every grain of rice, obsessively measuring her energy intake, trying to stay "perfect" for appearances. And yet, her sister seemed to gain nothing yet flaunt everything.
Meanwhile, Marcus Voss couldn't take his eyes off Selene as she peeled a poached shrimp, her fingers graceful even in the mundane. He couldn't help the strange flutter of thoughts racing through his mind.
Helena composed herself and smoothly shifted into her "kind stepmother" persona.
"Selene, eat as much as you like. If that's not enough, I'll ask the kitchen to bring out more. You grew up in that rural place with hardly anything. I imagine you've never tried dishes like these.
Now that you're home, we'll make sure you're well taken care of. Have you ever tasted truffle, caviar, or foie gras?"
The sweetness in her tone barely masked the jab beneath. Both Vivian and Marcus picked up on it immediately.
Vivian couldn't hold back anymore, throwing all pretense aside. "Mom, that's so thoughtful. But seriously, how could Selene have tasted any of this before? The fanciest thing she probably ever had was local chicken or duck. Honestly, I wish I could try food that organic. Envy her, really."
She even covered her mouth with a small chuckle, utterly unashamed of her smugness.
Of course, the pair only dared speak so freely because Julian had stepped out for an overseas call.
Just as they were about to continue, the front door opened again—and Julian Voss returned, eyes friendly as he approached the table.
"What's going on? I was just out for a bit—what were you two laughing about?"
Before anyone could answer, Helena and Vivian jumped in.
"Honey, I noticed Selene's appetite is back, so I thought she might enjoy something like black truffle. We have some arriving by air tomorrow. I had the kitchen prepare a special dish for her!"
Julian smiled, pleased to see Helena being "thoughtful" toward Selene.
"Mom, Dad! Aren't you even going to ask if she likes truffles? What if she doesn't even eat it?"
Vivian pouted, turning to Selene with wide eyes.
"Sis, do you even like that stuff?"
Julian cut her off flatly. "Just make it whether she likes it or not. If she doesn't eat it, toss it. No need to fuss."
Vivian felt humiliated all over again, her face tightening and eyes reddening—this time for real.
Helena, seeing Julian siding with Selene, forced a gentle word to keep her "kind stepmother" act intact.
Meanwhile, Marcus Voss saw the perfect opportunity to show off. Maybe it would impress Selene.
"Hey sis, Mom mentioned black truffles, foie gras, caviar—all top-tier stuff. Truffles, for example, come from France—the French black truffle, or périgord truffle… super rare. Fresh ones are hard to get for normal people, but our family gets them flown in monthly, and our chef prepares them. Honestly, I've eaten so much I'm kind of over it. But if you ever try truffles by Chef Henri from France… that's something special—but good luck getting a reservation."
He paused, hoping for a look of awe.
Instead, Selene gave him a look like he was some cartoon character.
Calmly, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and stood, voice composed.
"French black truffles—scientifically named Tuber melanosporum—are a wild edible fungus that grows underground. They are lumpy, dark brown to black, with veins and bumps ranging from gray to lighter shades. They ripen from mid-December to mid-March and give off a strong, earthy aroma that can linger for days."
She delivered it effortlessly, leaving everyone stunned. And that wasn't even the most shocking part yet.