Chapter 208 Family Banquet
At six in the evening, William came down from upstairs.
Dylan was standing in the living room. The moment he saw him, he froze mid-breath.
He was wearing a dark gray suit with a crisp white shirt, his tie fastened impeccably. His hair was neatly combed, his jaw clean-shaven—he looked as if he belonged on a magazine cover.
But what he was pushing made Dylan's blood run cold.
That wheelchair.
Isabella sat in the wheelchair, wearing that white dress. Her head tilted slightly downward, the dark brown liver spots covered by a thin veil—he didn't know where William had found the veil, draped lightly over her face, revealing only a blurred outline.
Her hands were folded over her abdomen, fingers stiffly clasped together.
Dylan opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound.
William pushed the wheelchair slowly toward the dining room.
As he passed Dylan, he paused.
Without looking back.
"Is dinner ready?" His voice was hoarse, as if unused for days.
Dylan watched his back, watched that wheelchair, watched the motionless figure in it.
"It's... It's ready."
William continued forward.
The wheelchair rolled across the floor with a faint scrape.
Dylan stood there, fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. It hurt.
But he still felt like he was in a dream.
In the dining room, the lights were dimmed to a warm glow.
The long dining table was covered with a white tablecloth, set with three place settings.
William pushed the wheelchair to the side of the head seat—the position directly opposite his own.
He bent down, gently adjusting Isabella's head so she was "looking" toward the table.
"Isabella." His voice was soft. "I've invited a special guest tonight."
He reached out to adjust the veil covering her, concealing the hollows.
"Do you think she'll be happy to see you?"
No response.
He sat down beside her, holding that cold hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
The sound of a car engine came from outside.
Dylan went out to greet them.
Juniper's car stopped in the courtyard.
Juniper walked into the dining room.
Her steps paused at the doorway—just for a second.
Because she saw that wheelchair.
Someone was sitting in a wheelchair.
She wore a white dress, her face covered with a veil, her hands folded over her abdomen.
Juniper's smile froze on her face for a moment.
Just one second.
Then she walked in with a smile.
"William." Her voice was gentle. "You finally remembered to invite me to dinner?"
Her gaze swept over the wheelchair, as if just casually glancing at it.
William looked up at her.
Those eyes were lifeless. "Sit."
Juniper sat down across from him, her gaze naturally falling on the wheelchair again.
She looked at that veiled figure, something flickering in her eyes.
Very slight.
Very quick.
Just a moment.
"Isabella's here too." She said softly, with just the right amount of concern in her tone. "Is she not feeling well? Why did she come down in a wheelchair?"
William didn't answer.
He picked up his fork and took a piece of steamed fish.
Then he stood up and walked to the wheelchair.
Crouched down.
"Isabella, try this."
He reached out and gently lifted the veil covering her face.
That face was revealed.
Dark brown spidery patterns crawled across her cheeks. The skin was loose and sunken, her jaw slightly open, showing a bit of teeth. Her lips were dry and cracked, blackened, the corners slack.
Juniper's smile froze.
Her eyes stared at that face.
Stared at those liver spots.
Stared at that mouth that could never close again.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
William brought the fish to those lips.
Waited two seconds.
Then he smiled and put the fish back in his own bowl.
"Don't you like it?"
His voice was soft.
"It's my fault for not having them prepare food you'd like."
Juniper sat at the dining table, watching this scene.
Watching him say "it's my fault" to a corpse.
Watching him apologize to a dead person in that gentle tone she'd never heard before.
Her back began to feel cold.
That coldness crept slowly up her spine, to the nape of her neck, and into her scalp.
But at the same time, something surged up from the bottom of her heart.
Sour. Bitter.
Jealousy.
She'd known William for three years.
In those three years, she'd seen all his attitudes toward Isabella—cold, dismissive, impatient.
She thought he hated her.
She thought that position never mattered.
But now—
He was kneeling before her, speaking to a rotting corpse in this tone, gentle as if coaxing a child.
Why.
Why should she still occupy him even in death?
William picked up a shrimp and placed it in Juniper's bowl.
Smiling, he asked, "Is it good?"
Suddenly remembering he'd never asked Isabella that question.
That smile was still on his face.
Paused for a moment.
Just one second.
William finally looked away.
He looked at Juniper.
"You grew up together, you must have been very close."
Juniper froze.
Then she smiled.
"Yes, we grew up together, like true sisters."
William looked at her.
"Is that so?"
Juniper nodded, her gaze drifting toward the wheelchair, then quickly away.
"Isabella was three years older than me. When we were little, she took care of me, always saved the good food for me."
Her voice was soft, tinged with nostalgia.
"She must have been adorable as a child."
William said.
Juniper smiled and nodded.
"Adorable, really adorable. Big eyes and two dimples when she smiled. Everyone who saw her said she was beautiful."
William listened.
There was no expression on his face.
But his hand, under the table, slowly tightened.
Adorable?
Isabella had received psychological treatment at age seven.
On their wedding day, she'd offended everyone—she'd been cast out by her family.
Was that even her family anymore?
Even Juniper, the adopted daughter, was more cherished than Isabella.
She was always clumsy in front of him, never knew how to win his favor.
William remembered how fierce Isabella had looked—she'd almost killed her—Juniper.
At this thought, William suddenly laughed, a bitter laugh.
Who would have thought that a weak woman had a moment of defiance?
"Even though Isabella's gone, you still have me."
The abrupt voice rang out, and the smile disappeared from William's face.
Now he wanted to strangle Juniper, too.
Just like Isabella had wanted to do.
"What do you mean?"
Juniper forced down her nausea and took that cold hand, gripping it in her palm.
"You're the most important person to Isabella. I want to fulfill her last wish."
William stared at that face, a surge of disgust in his gut.
This Juniper—how many of her words were true?
He suddenly smiled.
Juniper got into her car, a smile still on her lips.
She wiped her hands over and over, scrubbing until her fingers flushed red.
She looked back at the villa.
One day, she would become the mistress of that villa.