The soft glow of the crystal chandelier shimmered above the long dining table made of aged teakwood. Porcelain plates sat neatly atop an ivory embroidered tablecloth. The aroma of roasted meat and creamy soup lingered in the air—yet none of it was truly appetizing. Tension had seasoned the evening more than any spice could.

Evelyn sat upright at the end of the table, directly across from her father, who looked visibly anxious. To his left was her stepmother, poised perfectly, her eyes sharp with scrutiny. On the right sat Selena, idly twirling her silver spoon, gazing at Evelyn as though trying to peel away every shred of her resolve.

This...