"Yes, I did serve time," Dayana Stone admitted. Her gaze swept over the gathered crowd before finally settling on Nora Porter.

Nora reached for Dayana's hand. "Dayana, don't say things like that. I just misspoke earlier, that's all," she pleaded.

Dayana recoiled, yanking her hand back before Nora could touch her. In the process, Nora's heel somehow caught on the hem of her vintage-inspired dress, and she went down hard.

The floor was still littered with shards from the glass that had broken earlier. Carter Munoz instantly broke away from the crowd, rushed to Nora's side, and lifted her up.

Her hand was a mess—cut open, shards embedded in her skin. Fury blazed in Carter's eyes as he glared at Dayana, his expression icy and fierce. "Dayana, haven't you learned your lesson? I warned you..."

Dayana's heart gave a painful jolt. She knew Carter's affection was long gone, but seeing him so protective of another woman felt like a knife twisting in her heart.

"What did I do? All I did was pull my hand back. She's the one who fell," Dayana defended herself. She couldn't help but notice the irony in the way their fingers intertwined. She averted her gaze, her hand brushing against a spot on her chest.

There, hidden beneath her clothes, was a pendant someone had once given her. During her darkest moments in prison, when she was on the verge of breaking, holding on to it had been her lifeline.

Lifting her head again, Dayana's eyes took on a steely resolve. She smiled wryly and picked up where she'd left off. "Yes, I went to prison—but I was wrongfully accused."

Sheila Stone, witnessing Dayana openly admit to being in a place so reviled, felt her face go pale. At first, she suspected that Nora's revelation about Dayana's imprisonment had been intentional. But seeing Nora apologize in front of everyone, trying to smooth things over, she reconsidered. Could Nora—whom she had watched grow up—really harbor such malice?

Hoping to defuse the situation, Sheila cut in. "Dayana, perhaps you've had too much coffee. I'll have someone walk you upstairs to rest."

Dayana appeared not to hear. She kept going, following her own path. "Three years ago, if I had really orchestrated a kidnapping, I would have made sure Nora disappeared for good. Why would I leave clues pointing back to me?"

A sharp slap landed across Dayana's face. As she turned, she saw her father, Victor Stone, who had emerged from the study.

His voice was stern. "Dayana, stop this nonsense. Be quiet!"

The sting on her cheek was sharp, yet Dayana barely felt it. "At the time, Nora only suffered minor injuries. If those thugs truly intended to harm her, they would have assaulted her the moment she was dragged into the car. Why go through the trouble of taking her to an abandoned warehouse? Doesn't that seem unnecessary?"

The onlookers were shocked by Dayana's perspective, their eyes widening in surprise. Had Nora really come that close to being assaulted by thugs?

The pointing and whispering spread, casting a shadow over Nora. She bit her lip, her complexion growing pale.

Victor, infuriated by Dayana's outburst, was visibly shaking. The subject had been taboo in the family for three years—no one dared mention it. Yet Dayana had brought it up, airing their dirty laundry in front of guests. It was humiliating—a daughter in prison, another nearly harmed, all because of sibling rivalry. A disgrace.

Nora, meanwhile, was already in tears. Her head was bowed, her shoulders trembling as large teardrops splashed onto the floor.

Dayana chuckled sardonically. Is this too much for her? Compared to what she'd endured, what was this?

Sheila shot Dayana a warning look, urging her to be quiet. The matter had been settled three years ago. She and Victor had consented to Dayana's incarceration because Dayana had refused to admit wrongdoing back then; they'd thought it was the only solution. There were moments when Sheila wondered if the punishment had been too harsh—after all, Dayana was still a Munoz.

But Nora insisted that because Dayana was part of the family, the prison staff would hesitate to mistreat her. If this situation didn't teach Dayana a lesson, Nora feared she'd stray further off course. Sheila had to admit it made sense, considering Dayana's upbringing under Lila Janz.

And what of Lila Janz? Raising a son who gambled endlessly and lazed around all day. Dayana had grown up in that environment—maybe a little tempering was in order.

"Why bring this up, Dayana?" Sheila asked, her expression one of irritation and discontent. "Can't you see your sister is crying?"

A hint of scorn crossed Dayana's cool features. "Yes—I only went to prison for her, yet she's the one shedding tears."