Chapter 162: The One Who Paid The Price

"Anyone who refuses to respect that..." Julian’s gaze slowly swept across the table before settling squarely on Judy. His eyes, usually warm with paternal indulgence, were now cold and unwavering.

"...will face consequences."

The words landed like a judge’s final verdict.

Judy’s breath caught in her throat.

She had expected resistance.

She had expected an argument.

She had expected her father to lecture her before eventually giving in—as he always had.

But never...

Never had she imagined that, for the first time in her life, he would choose principle over her.

The realization stung more sharply than any scolding ever could.

A painful lump formed in her throat. Her chest tightened until it hurt to breathe.

Unable to endure another second beneath everyone’s eyes, she shoved her chair backward so violently that its legs scraped harshly across the marble floor.

"Fine!"

Her voice cracked, trembling with humiliation and fury.

"If this is what our family has become..."

Her tear-filled eyes shot toward Isobel, blazing with resentment.

"...then I don’t belong at this table."

Without waiting for anyone to answer—or stop her—Judy spun on her heel and stormed out of the dining hall.

The towering wooden doors slammed shut behind her with a deafening boom.

The echo rolled through the room before fading into an oppressive silence.

No one spoke.

Leanne released a tired sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"She’ll calm down."

Julian continued staring at the closed doors, his expression unreadable.

Several long moments passed before he finally spoke.

"No."

His voice was quiet, but there was unmistakable resolve behind it.

"She’ll either learn to accept her sister..."

His gaze drifted toward Isobel for a brief moment.

"...or she’ll learn that even my patience has its limits."

Morgan slowly pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

"I’ll go check on her."

Before leaving, he looked at Isobel and offered her a reassuring smile.

"Don’t let her words get to you. She’s overwhelmed right now."

His smile softened.

"She’ll come around eventually."

With that, Morgan left the dining room.

Instead of heading upstairs toward Judy’s bedroom—now located beside Isobel’s—he walked through the rear corridor that opened into the estate’s sprawling back garden.

The evening breeze carried the scent of blooming jasmine.

Crickets chirped softly beneath the quiet night.

Near the old oak tree stood a familiar wooden swing.

And there sat Judy.

She remained perfectly still, one foot pressed firmly against the grass while the swing barely moved.

Morgan couldn’t help smiling faintly.

Years ago, he had built that swing for Kristine.

Yet, when Judy visited, it had somehow become her favorite place instead.

There had been another swing just like it at their old mansion.

Whenever Judy was scolded as a child, she would run to it, climb aboard, and sit there in stubborn silence while tears streamed down her cheeks.

And every single time...

He had been the one to find her. Nothing, it seemed, had changed.

He walked over and stopped behind the swing.

From where he stood, he could see Judy’s fingers wrapped tightly around the thick ropes.

Her knuckles had turned white from the force of her grip.

Morgan gently rested his hands on the ropes.

He didn’t push.

He simply held them still.

"Sis..."

His voice was quiet enough to blend with the evening breeze.

"I don’t understand."

He waited a moment before asking the question that had weighed on him for days.

"Why do you hate Isobel so much?"

His tone held no accusation. Only sadness.

"She’s a good person."

Judy let out a bitter, humorless laugh. She never looked back at him.

"Brother..."

Her voice was hoarse from crying.

"Am I the one who’s wrong?"

She swallowed hard.

"Why are you and Mom being so... magnanimous?"

Another bitter chuckle escaped her lips.

"Don’t either of you care that she destroyed our perfect family?"

Morgan closed his eyes briefly and drew in a slow breath.

"It wasn’t Dad’s fault. It’s just fate playing tricks."

His voice remained calm.

"But even if it had been..."

He paused.

"...Isobel still wouldn’t be the one to blame."

Leaving the swing where it was, Morgan walked a few steps toward a weathered stone bench shaded by flowering vines.

He lowered himself onto it with an exhausted sigh.

After a long silence, he spoke again.

"You’re wrong when you say Isobel ruined our perfect family."

Morgan leaned back against the stone bench, his gaze drifting toward the moonlit sky.

"Our family wasn’t destroyed by her."

His voice was quiet, weighed down by regret.

"It was Dad’s choices that shattered her mother’s life... and hers."

He let the silence linger before looking back at Judy.

"We didn’t lose anything..."

His eyes softened.

"But Isobel did."

"She was robbed of the childhood every child deserves."

"You grew up with a father who adored you, a mother who protected you, and a brother who would do anything for you."

A faint, bittersweet smile crossed his face.

"You always had a home to come back to."

His expression turned solemn once more.

"Isobel had no one."

"While we were opening presents on Christmas morning and counting down to the New Year together..."

He paused.

"...she was spending those holidays in an orphanage, surrounded by children who, just like her, were waiting for families that never came."

His voice cracked ever so slightly.

"If anyone paid the price for Dad’s mistakes..."

He shook his head.

"It wasn’t us."

"It was her."

"Sis," Morgan looked at Judy.

"The blood running through her veins is the same as ours. She’s a Foster."

Morgan gave a faint shake of his head.

"So accepting her as my sister wasn’t difficult."

"Because I’m a Foster too."

His gaze drifted toward the lights glowing through the dining room windows.

"But...Mom."

A gentle smile touched his lips.

"She doesn’t share a single drop of blood with Isobel."

"She had every reason to keep her distance."

"But instead..."

"...she chose to accept a little girl who had done nothing wrong."

He looked back at Judy.

His voice remained gentle, but there was no escaping the question.

"If Mom can open her heart to Isobel..."

"Why can’t you?"

Judy slowly turned her head.

Moonlight shimmered in her tear-filled eyes.

For the first time since leaving the dining room, she couldn’t find an answer.

The anger was still there.

But for the first time that night...

So was uncertainty.