Chapter 290: Met With Disapproval

Half of the guests attending the gathering belonged to the Foster bloodline.

They were Julian’s cousins from his father’s side of the family, many of whom had arrived with their children. Most of the younger generation were older than Isobel, while a handful were around her age or considerably younger.

For years, the Foster family had been a sprawling dynasty bound together by blood, wealth, and influence. Yet beneath their polished manners and carefully maintained family ties lay the same rivalries, jealousies, and ambitions that plagued ordinary families—only theirs were dressed in designer gowns and tailored suits.

Winston Foster, one of Julian’s cousins and the man entrusted with overseeing the Foster banking empire, approached with a crystal glass of champagne in his hand.

He raised it toward Julian, his lips curling into a smile that failed to conceal the envy in his eyes.

"You’re damn lucky, Julian." He shook his head with a rueful chuckle.

"The old man has barely been gone, and you’ve already struck gold. If he were still alive, he’d probably kick you out of the family and have your name erased from the Foster genealogy."

His words were delivered in a joking tone, but the resentment beneath them was unmistakable.

After all, the late patriarch had been a formidable man who valued bloodline, family reputation, and obedience above almost everything else. Being favored by him had once been the ultimate privilege. Being cast aside was a humiliation no amount of money could erase.

Julian merely smiled.

"If Grandpa was still alive, he would surely adore Isobel. Just look at her. How could anyone resist such an adorable child?"

As he spoke, he gently took Isobel by the wrist and guided her forward, introducing her to the relatives who had gathered around them.

"Isobel, this is your Uncle Theodore, though you can simply call him Uncle Theo. And this is his wife, your Aunt Gertrude. Uncle Theo is the one overseeing the Foster banking business."

Isobel immediately straightened and offered the couple a polite bow.

"Hello, Uncle Theo. Hello, Aunt Gertrude. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Her voice was clear and pleasant, her smile warm without being overly familiar. She carried herself with the composure of someone accustomed to formal occasions, despite having only recently discovered that she belonged to one of the most influential families in the country.

Gertrude studied her from head to toe.

The girl was certainly presentable. Her clothes were tasteful, her manners impeccable, and her appearance far from embarrassing.

At least she looks decent.

Gertrude gave a faint nod, concealing her assessment behind a practiced smile.

Before she could say anything, a young woman swept toward them in a shimmering, ocean-blue mermaid gown.

The dress hugged her figure before flaring dramatically at the knees, its long, flowing train trailing behind her like the receding waves of a midnight sea. Every step seemed carefully calculated to draw attention, and she wore the confidence of someone who had spent years being admired.

That was hardly surprising.

Sophia Foster was a famous model, accustomed to cameras, flashing lights, and people turning their heads whenever she entered a room. Beauty had opened countless doors for her, while her family name had ensured that few people dared to close them.

She was also Charlotte’s friend.

And judging by the resentful look she directed at Isobel, she had already decided what she thought of her newly discovered cousin.

"What a shame," Sophia remarked, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "To think that the woman who stole my friend’s fiancé would turn out to be my own cousin."

The words were loud enough for the people standing nearby to hear.

A few conversations faltered. Several guests discreetly turned their heads, their interest instantly piqued.

A family gathering had just become considerably more entertaining.

Julian’s smile vanished.

"Sophia." His voice was calm, but the warning in it was unmistakable. "Be careful with your words. Do not slander my daughter."

Sophia blinked, apparently surprised that her uncle would reprimand her so openly.

"But, Uncle, I’m only telling the truth!"

She was prepared to say more, perhaps to recount Charlotte’s version of events and paint Isobel as a shameless woman who had snatched another woman’s happiness.

However, the moment she caught her father’s warning gaze from across her, the remaining words died on her tongue.

Theodore’s expression had darkened.

He might not particularly care about his cousin’s newly discovered daughter, but he certainly understood the importance of appearances. The last thing he wanted was for his own daughter to make a spectacle of herself in front of the influential guests surrounding them.

Sophia pressed her lips together, swallowing her indignation.

Meanwhile, Isobel seemed entirely unbothered by the exchange.

She turned toward Sophia with a bright smile and extended her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Cousin Sophia."

Her gesture was courteous, her expression open and friendly.

Sophia glanced at the offered hand.

Then, without so much as a flicker of hesitation, she looked away.

She had no intention of accepting it.

The silence that followed was brief, but awkward enough for those nearby to notice.

Julian frowned.

Isobel simply lowered her hand.

There was no embarrassment on her face, nor did she appear particularly offended. She had offered a greeting, and Sophia had refused it. That was Sophia’s choice, not a humiliation Isobel needed to carry.

If anything, the rejection merely told her what sort of person her cousin was.

Gertrude, however, was less than pleased.

She shot her daughter a disapproving glance. Even if Sophia disliked Isobel, the least she could have done was pretend otherwise. They were surrounded by prominent guests, after all, and a public display of hostility reflected poorly on the entire family.

Gertrude had no choice but to smooth things over.

"Don’t mind her, Isobel." She forced a laugh. "Sophia has always been straightforward. She doesn’t believe in pretending to like someone when she doesn’t."

It was an elegant way of excusing bad manners.

Or, more accurately, a mother’s attempt to make her daughter’s rudeness sound like a virtue.

A soft, mocking laugh suddenly interrupted her.

"Oh, Aunt Gertrude. You certainly have a way with words."