A delicate, enigmatic smile graced the woman's lips.

She wore an understated yet refined ensemble—a pristine white blouse, impeccably fitted, paired with a sweeping ebony skirt.

Her long tresses were gathered in a loose knot at her nape, a few rebellious strands framing her face, lending her an air of effortless sophistication.

Every gesture exuded quiet confidence and poise—never overstated, always perfectly measured.

The young man spoke. "Father has caught wind of her as well. From what I've gathered, he's seriously considering reinstating Evelyn into the Harrington family. One way or another, she's managed to capture his attention."

Lately, Amy Sinclair had become the talk of Newhaven, her name whispered in every corner. Even the Harringtons, all the way in Solmaris, couldn't escape the murmurs about her.

Aurora Harrington inquired softly, "What does Isaac think of all this?"

He replied, "If she stays out of trouble, bringing her back would be as simple as adding another seat at the table. But after our last encounter, I doubt she'll be content to remain in the shadows."

His striking features remained impassive, as though they were discussing a distant acquaintance—no resentment, no scorn, not even a flicker of emotion. Just an abyss of indifference.

Aurora's voice was serene, soothing as a gentle brook. "Evelyn has been away for so long. Surely she's realized her mistakes by now. She's always been Father's concern. We should welcome her home."

"But..." He hesitated, his gaze flickering toward her. "If she returns, she'll only make life difficult for you."

Aurora shook her head lightly. "I was young and impulsive back then. It was just an engagement—if she wants him, she can have him."

She paused, her voice softening further. "Besides, he was her fiancé first."

His brow furrowed. "But you grew up with Theodore Whitmore Jr. He's always cared for you."

"Connor." Setting her teacup down, Aurora's tone was steady. "I've only ever seen Theodore as an older brother."

"You might fool others, but not me." Connor Harrington studied her, and for once, his usually cool gaze warmed slightly. "You used to chatter endlessly about marrying him when you were little."

Aurora could only laugh quietly. "Connor, those were childish fantasies. They mean nothing now."

Letting the matter drop, Connor continued, "Regardless, Theodore isn't worthy of you anymore."

Aurora was the jewel of high society—graceful, brilliant, the epitome of elegance. She was the darling of the elite, the dream of every well-bred gentleman, drawing admiring glances wherever she went. In every sense, she was the standard—a paragon of charm, a living manual of refined manners.

Like her namesake, she was the dawn—radiant and breathtaking.

Mention Aurora, and admirers would flock. She was the pride of the Harrington family.

Connor went on, "You've always been at the top of your class, a born scholar. You could've joined Harrington Enterprises immediately. But for some reason, Father insisted you study the arts."

Aurora had always been an academic prodigy—no one could surpass her, not ever. She possessed an extraordinary, almost uncanny aptitude for the sciences.

Yet Harrison Harrington, believing there was no need for a woman to push herself so hard, insisted Aurora pursue music and the arts instead.

When college applications loomed, Aurora's homeroom teacher even met with Harrison, hoping to secure her admission to a prestigious technical university, where her talents could benefit society. Harrison, however, dismissed the idea without hesitation.