The grand hall had fallen into a silence so complete that it felt almost unnatural.
Moments ago, the space had been filled with quiet conversation, polite smiles, and measured curiosity. But now—
Everything had stopped.
Every pair of eyes was fixed on one person.
Elva.
She stood in the center of the room, her posture still composed on the outside, but inside—
Everything was unraveling.
The weight of the moment pressed down on her from all sides.
The towering ceilings.
The vast, luxurious hall.
The powerful presence of the Salvatore family surrounding her.
And most of all—
The lie she was living.
It wrapped around her like invisible chains, tightening with every passing second.
Her mind began to race.
Too fast.
Too loud.
Music…
Dance…
Languages…
The words echoed repeatedly in her thoughts, overlapping, clashing, suffocating her.
Those were the answers expected.
Those were the talents Victoria Rodriguez would have effortlessly listed.
Those were the skills that belonged to this world—
A world Elva had never been part of.
Because she wasn't Victoria.
She was Elva Williams.
A girl who had spent years buried in textbooks.
Biology.
Chemistry.
Human anatomy.
Dreaming not of elegance—
But of saving lives.
Her heart began to pound harder against her chest.
Too fast.
Too loud.
Her palms turned cold, a faint tremor running through her fingers as she struggled to steady herself.
The silence stretched.
Waiting.
Demanding.
Expecting.
She could feel their gazes.
Elizabeth's warm and encouraging.
Philip's calm and assessing.
Louis's curious… and strangely attentive.
And Luna's—
Sharp.
Unyielding.
Almost piercing through her.
Elva swallowed.
Her throat felt dry.
Her lips parted slightly.
"I… I—"
The words barely left her mouth.
Because suddenly—
Something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
The air around her seemed to shift.
The hall, which had felt vast before, now felt distant.
Unreal.
The sounds around her began to fade.
Not completely—
But enough to feel disconnected.
Like she was slowly drifting away from everything.
The light from the chandeliers above blurred, stretching into soft, indistinct shapes.
Her vision wavered.
The edges darkened slightly.
Her breathing became uneven.
Shallow.
Her chest rising and falling too quickly.
No…
Not now…
Her thoughts tried to hold on.
Tried to stay present.
But her body—
Her body had reached its limit.
For the past two days, she had been running on nothing but fear and determination.
She had barely slept.
Her nights had been filled with restless thoughts, her mind refusing to calm.
She had cried quietly, alone in her room, afraid of the reality she had stepped into.
She had panicked.
Over every word.
Every step.
Every glance.
She had hidden her books—
The only pieces of herself she had left.
She had faced Matthew's cold anger.
Felt the weight of his presence.
His authority.
His indifference.
She had tried to plan an escape.
To find a way out.
To survive.
Her body had carried it all.
Every ounce of stress.
Every ounce of fear.
Every ounce of exhaustion.
And now—
It was too much.
The hall around her began to spin.
Faces blurred.
Voices turned into distant echoes.
Her legs felt weak.
Unsteady.
As if they no longer belonged to her.
Her fingers loosened slightly at her sides.
Her balance slipped.
The darkness at the edges of her vision spread further—
Faster—
Until it swallowed everything.
And then—
Nothing.
Her body swayed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
And in the next moment—
She collapsed.
Elva—!
The name rose instinctively—
Unconsciously—
But it never left anyone's mouth.
Because in this house—
She was not Elva.
She was Victoria.
Her small frame tilted forward, her body losing all strength as she fell toward the cold, unforgiving marble floor.
But she never reached it.
Because someone moved.
Fast.
Faster than anyone else.
Louis Salvatore.
The moment he saw her sway, his relaxed posture disappeared instantly.
Without thinking—
Without hesitation—
He stepped forward.
His movements were sharp, precise, and immediate.
Before Elva could hit the ground, his arms wrapped around her.
Catching her.
Holding her.
"Careful!"
His voice was firm, urgent.
Gone was the playful tone.
Gone was the casual ease.
What remained—
Was pure instinct.
Concern.
Real.
Unfiltered.
Elizabeth gasped, her hand flying to her chest.
"Oh my goodness!"
The calm atmosphere shattered instantly.
The hall, which had been silent moments ago, now filled with sudden movement and alarm.
Louis carefully adjusted his hold, supporting Elva's weight as if she were something fragile—something that could break with the slightest mishandling.
He turned slightly and moved toward the nearest sofa, his steps controlled but quick.
Gently—
Carefully—
He lowered her onto the cushions.
Her head rested softly against the side, her hair falling loosely around her pale face.
She looked—
Different.
Too still.
Too quiet.
Her breathing was light, uneven.
Barely noticeable.
Elizabeth rushed forward immediately, her composed demeanor replaced with clear concern.
"Call the doctor immediately!"
Her voice carried authority now, sharp and urgent.
Servants reacted at once.
"Yes, Madam!"
Footsteps echoed rapidly through the hall as they hurried in different directions, following her command without question.
The once orderly environment had shifted into controlled chaos.
Philip Salvatore stepped closer, his expression serious, his sharp eyes carefully observing the situation.
He didn't panic.
He never did.
But the tension in his gaze was unmistakable.
He watched everything.
Her condition.
Her breathing.
Louis's reaction.
Every detail.
Louis remained beside the sofa.
Close.
Too close for someone who had only just met her.
His brows were slightly furrowed, his usual relaxed expression replaced with something far more focused.
More concerned.
He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against her hand.
Cold.
Too cold.
"Her hands are cold…" he muttered quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
There was a subtle tension in his voice.
A quiet unease.
Because this didn't feel like something minor.
Elizabeth gently touched Elva's forehead, her movements careful, almost motherly.
"She must be exhausted," she said, her voice softer now, though still filled with concern.
And it was true.
Even to an untrained eye, it was clear.
This wasn't just a simple faint.
It was the result of something deeper.
Something heavier.
Across the room—
Luna stood still.
She had not moved.
Not rushed forward.
Not reacted with alarm.
Her expression remained composed.
Controlled.
Unreadable.
But her eyes—
Her eyes told a different story.
They slowly shifted from Elva's pale, unconscious face—
To Louis.
To the way he remained beside her.
To the way his gaze lingered.
To the concern that had replaced his usual ease.
Something about it didn't sit right with her.
At all.
Luna's gaze sharpened slightly.
Her thoughts moved quickly.
Analyzing.
Replaying.
Observing.
Louis had reacted too fast.
Too instinctively.
Too… personally.
For someone he had just met.
Her fingers tightened slightly at her side.
Because that reaction—
Wasn't normal.
Not in their world.
Not in their family.
Her eyes returned to Elva.
The girl lying there.
Fragile.
Pale.
Unconscious.
The same girl Luna had judged moments ago.
The same girl she had already decided didn't belong.
And yet—
Now—
She was the center of attention.
The center of concern.
The center of something Luna didn't yet understand.
Her gaze darkened slightly.
Because now—
This was no longer just curiosity.
No longer just quiet resentment.
Something had shifted.
Something deeper.
More focused.
More intentional.
Luna Salvatore straightened slightly.
Her expression returning to its usual calm.
But her eyes remained sharp.
Watchful.
Calculating.
Because now—
She wasn't just curious about Victoria Rodriguez anymore.
She was watching her.
Carefully.
Closely.
And this time—
She wouldn't miss a single detail.