The sunlight spilled through Emily's tall suite windows, falling across the floor like liquid gold. She stretched deliberately, feeling the limitations of her new body. Every joint, every muscle reminded her that strength was no longer inherent it had to be earned, rebuilt, honed. She welcomed the discomfort. It was proof that she was alive, proof that she could reclaim the power she had lost.
Her coldness was not mere temperament. Groomed from the age of five to inherit the throne of Norvale, she had been trained to strategize, fight, and command. Playfulness, affection, even the luxury of vulnerability had been denied to her. In the presence of men, indulgence was weakness. Detachment was survival. Control, absolute.
The day's first event was the formal registration of her marriage to Timothy Grant. The ceremony was brief, a legal formality she endured without a flicker of excitement. She signed papers with precision, nodded politely to the witnesses, and returned to her seat with her usual composure.
Timothy observed from the side, his dark eyes fixed on her. He noted the subtle strength in her posture, the cold clarity in her gaze. She did not flinch. She did not react to his reputation. She seemed completely unmoved by the presence of the man whose name would now be legally hers. And yet, that very composure unsettled him, drew him in, sparked a curiosity he had not felt in years.
After the registrar's pen lifted and the document was stamped, Stephanie wasted no time and walked towards Emily.
"So, Emily," she began, a sickly sweet tone dripping from her words, "I hope you're happy. Benjamin has been so… upset since you chose Timothy. Really, did you ever consider his feelings?"
Emily's looked at her with eyes filled with mockery
"Since you love him so much, hold on to him," she smiled "I wish you guys a lifelong misery."
The words hung in the air like ice. Stephanie stuttered. Her mother's eyes widened.
Emily's focus remained absolute. Timothy, a few steps away, watched silently, the corner of his mouth twitching in faint amusement. He was intrigued but said nothing.
Later, Emily found herself alone in the drawing room with Timothy. For the first time since their union, they spoke directly. His tone was flat, measured, yet there was a flicker of curiosity behind his dark eyes.
"You seem… different," he observed, leaning against the polished railing. "The rumors painted you as sentimental, naive… easily swayed. But you " He paused, choosing his words carefully. "You are none of that."
Emily's lips curved faintly, a shadow of a smile. "I have never been naive. Nor sentimental. Those are luxuries reserved for those who do not understand loss."
Timothy's eyes narrowed slightly. "Loss?"
She inclined her head just enough to meet his gaze but did not elaborate. "Everyone loses something. Some, more than others. I've learned to keep moving. To keep… collecting the pieces that matter."
He studied her quietly, sensing the layers beneath her words. She was not warm, not inviting, yet she was compelling. There was a magnetism in her restraint, in her refusal to be swayed by fear or desire. And for the first time, Timothy felt a genuine challenge in another person not flirtation, not submission, but a carefully measured opposition that fascinated him.
Stephanie's voice echoed faintly from the hallway, calling his name, but he ignored it. Emily's calm persisted, untouched by the distraction, her eyes unwavering. Timothy's gaze softened fractionally, though he refused to betray any emotion.
"Do you understand why I am indifferent?" Emily asked finally, her voice quiet but firm. "This marriage… it is an arrangement, nothing more. I do not expect affection, and I do not intend to give it."
He tilted his head, dark curiosity glinting. "And yet… you are here. You participate, observe, and, it seems, calculate. That is… interesting."
Emily met his gaze evenly. "Observation is necessary. Calculation is survival. This is who I am, whether you like it or not."
Timothy leaned back slightly, allowing a faint smile to touch his lips uncommon, almost disarming. "I find it… compelling," he admitted softly, almost to himself.
The conversation ended there, unremarkable to an outsider but profound in its implications. Two people, both accustomed to control, measuring the other, learning boundaries, and yet understanding more than either expected. Emily returned to her suite shortly after, leaving Timothy to consider her words and presence.
Her thoughts drifted briefly to the house below, to the staff and family interactions. Timothy's presence was subtle but unmistakable; she felt it even without his direct intervention. Yet she remained entirely focused on her purpose. He was a tool, a witness, an obstacle but nothing more. Love, attachment, desire all were irrelevant. Her mission was singular: reclaim what had been stolen, punish the betrayers, and fulfill the promise she had made to the dead Emily.
She allowed herself a small, private smile a rare moment of satisfaction. The promise she made to the dead Emily would guide her, her body and mind honed into tools for vengeance, and nothing would deter her. Not family, and certainly not Timothy Grant, no matter how curious he became.
Timothy, went through the information about Emily which was well detailed. It contained information from her childhood to adulthood, but he still felt that something was missing.
He call his assistant "find out everything about Emily, I want the result in 30 minutes"
Jack, who was woken up from sleep felt like crying" But boss.. I already gave you all the information I gathered about miss Emily'"
" There is more to what we know so find out" Timothy said and ended the call.
Emily, unaware of what was happening, remembered the agreement with her father about transferring her mother's shares back to her.
the inheritance that was rightfully hers. And she decided: tomorrow, she would give her father a surprise visit.
She rolled in the bed with a smile on her face and touched her heart
"I promised to help you get revenge, it's time to start"