Chapter 298: It’s in the blood.
Dinner that night at night was unlike any Sienna had ever attended. There was no communal meal, as most relatives were asked to dine in their own homes. Only those who had already been inside the house were allowed at the table. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the scrape of forks, spoons and chop sticks against plates. There was also the occasional cough.
Sienna sat stiffly, her children beside her, her husband’s gaze unreadable. Jesse presided at the head, his expression carved from stone.
It was Owena who shattered the quiet. She leaned back, her voice carrying with the ease of someone who lived too many lives to care about propriety. "Sienna," she began, eyes glinting, "your mom once stole a horse in the capital. It was one of junior horse racing championships for noble children. She was a fast learner little Orlena. Mustered etiquette and how to pass off as a noble early in her life. So, daddy had someone dress her nicely and registered her as the daughter of Lord Ingram of the porcupine tribe. His real daughter was sick. Daddy cut Orlena’s hair and glued fake spikes to her head. Orlena got in, stole a horse and rode it through two districts before daddy sold it."
The servants froze mid-motion. Ali and Eli stopped chewing. Even Timothy, standing discreetly at the door, stiffened.
Owena laughed, a throaty sound. "But that is nothing compared to your mother’s skills in lifting purses and jewels from walking targets. She would vanish before anyone could blink and change her appearance in ten seconds. It was a talent I could never muster because I have clumsy hands."
"Maybe you should stop talking." Sienna suggested.
Owena sniggered. "Sweetheart, I just want you to know your roots."
"No, she doesn’t." Mrs. Miller shouted.
But Owena snorted. "What’s wrong little sis, are you ashamed of our background? The kids should know about their ancestors. This life of crime, we were born into it. A lineage of thieves. Our ancestors were thieves. That is how the survived. We are from the nomad tribe. The longest living human tribe which still thrives to date. Our people roam from city to city, leaving behind whispers and curses. Bloodlines are very important to beast men and this is ours. Unlike Orlena, I take pride in it."
Sienna’s knuckles whitened around her fork. She wanted to speak, to deny such a ugly past, but Owena pressed on, delighted by the shock she sowed.
"There was tradition too," she said, lowering her voice as though sharing a secret. "The nomad boys would kidnap girls from different cities and raise them as wives. It is our way. Strange, yes, but it bound families together. Our uncle Denson stole his bride from a caravan of a noble merchant when he was thirteen. That boy rubbed it in the face of everyone for the two months she lived with his family. Of course, her parents found her and uncle Denson was shot in the eye by his guards because he was trying to run away with her. So, we started calling him one eyed D.
That bastard is one of the luckiest fellows in this kingdom. His wife ran from her family when she was barely sixteen and tracked him down. They have five children now. They used to be seven but two died on the job--if you know what I mean. Much like Orlena, they stole from the wrong people." She looked at Mrs. Miller. "You would know that if you kept in contact with your family."
Mrs. Miller didn’t reply, and the silence deepened. Even the crackle of the fire in the fire place seemed subdued. Elias shifted, his jaw tight. Jesse’s eyes narrowed, cold as winter steel.
Sienna’s heart thudded painfully. Every revelation was a stone dropped into still water, rippling outward, threatening to drown them all. She thought of the fragile respect she had clawed back in this household only to have it undone by one careless tongue. It was unbearable.
By the time the last dish was served, the air was suffocating. Owena, oblivious, or simply choosing to be so, dabbed her lips with a napkin, smiling as though she had entertained them with harmless tales.
Timothy stepped forward, a parchment in hand. "Madam," he said smoothly, "we require your signature. Before you get that one million, a non-disclosure agreement must be signed. For the sake of the family’s honor."
Owena blinked, confused, then laughed again. "An NDA? For stories? You nobles take yourselves too seriously."
But Timothy did not smile. He placed the paper before her, pen ready. Sienna watched as Owena hesitated, then shrugged and scrawled her name. "I have said enough anyway." She smiled at Mrs. Miller with malice, "You went thirty years ignoring me, let’s see if your children will give you the same treatment now that they know how dirty your roots are."
Mrs. Miller fled the room in what sounded like tears. Aunt Linera and Soren went after her. Sienna remained where she was.
To the Veythar’s it was not enough that Owena signed an NDA. Jesse summoned one of the oldest guards of their house. A fox beast man cloaked in shadows, his presence heavy with secrets. He was no ordinary guard--he was an SSS tier mental strength beast man, and his expertise was in tampering with the mind. He was trained in arts forbidden to most.
Sienna shivered as she watched him enter. His eyes were pale, like his skin, and his movements deliberate. He bowed to Jesse, then turned to Owena.
"This past," Jesse said, voice low, "must remain buried. You talk too much and your grudge against your sister is too deep that you don’t care who is harmed as long as it causes her pain. You are a risk to this house and I am not about to watch you drown us all with your loose tongue. So, I am afraid I must take matters into my own hands and force you to forget."
Owena’s eyes widened. Her first instinct was to reach for the table knife on the dessert plate but Jesse flung her away from the table. Before she could fly into a wall, the old guard guard caught her. As she struggled, he placed his hands upon her forehead, murmuring words that twisted the air. Owena’s voice faltered, her eyes glazed. Slowly, the past unraveled from her mind, threads pulled from a tapestry until nothing remained but blank fabric.
It took thirty minutes and the guard carried her unconscious body to the chair. "She remembers nothing now, not even her name."