Ophelia is taken to the family meeting room as soon as she returns to the Blackwood mansion. Ivory and gold shimmer along the walls under the warm golden glow of the hallway lights.
The butler's back is straight and regal, just as Ophelia remembers. Her expression is calm and unreadable, despite knowing exactly what's coming.
Her heels click against the marble floor, echoing louder than they should. The window glass reflects her shadow—untouchable, unreadable.
The massive oak door swings open at the butler's push, and she is greeted by familiar faces.
Her father sits at the head of the table. Her sister's expression is hard, yet furious in a way only Ophelia can decipher. Her brother leans against the window, smoking with a distant, unreadable gaze.
Ivy is the first to speak:
"Your boyfriend tried to hit my fiancé?"
Ivy's eyes darken with cold fury and protectiveness toward Czar. Ophelia remains unfazed, unlike the girl they all remember.
Rhys shifts uncomfortably. He's been sensing this since morning. Something has dangerously changed about Ophelia—her expression, her distant demeanor, the lack of any defense mechanisms.
"Yes, Vincent tried to do so… because—" Ophelia pauses deliberately, letting curiosity rise with every passing second.
"Because of what?" Ivy presses, fists clenched under the table, expression carefully controlled.
"Czar was flirting with Elosia."
Ivy's eyes widen, and blood drains from her face. Raphael Blackwood's green eyes darken, radiating a dangerous intensity that only makes him more intimidating.
"Are you sure you mean every word?" Raphael's chilling voice cuts through the room. Ophelia's expression remains calm under his icy gaze.
"You can check the CCTV footage; staff were there."
Ivy gulps visibly, a lump in her throat. Ophelia's sharp eyes don't miss the crack in Ivy's flawless composure. Past Ophelia would never have dared to say something like this.
She had always cared about a family that never fully embraced her—a family where she was constantly seen as a bearer of misfortune.
But this Ophelia—whose sole goal now is revenge—knows exactly what she's doing and how to do it.
Rhys pushes off the wall, expression unreadable, patting Ivy's head protectively.
"This is unacceptable."
Ivy inhales sharply as Raphael covers her hand with his own. She looks at her father, pain written all over her face.
"You don't need to say anything, Ivy." Raphael's voice carries love and tenderness—the kind of love Ophelia never received in her life. Suddenly, her heart goes cold and numb. Her eyes drift toward a picture-perfect family.
A warm, present father protecting his daughter from the world's pain. A protective brother enraged at his sister's suffering. A family of three, where the girl is truly loved by her father and brother.
Ophelia's throat wobbles. She bites her lip hard enough to taste blood.
Her eyes speak in silence, words nobody will ever read. She is dreaming—dreaming of a family where she is cherished.
A dream where her father is warm and protective, her elder brother teasing yet loving, her elder sister gentle and kind. A dream where she was never raised in cold neglect.
But as the butler walks past her with refreshments—Ivy's favorites—Raphael feeds Ivy ice cream, and Rhys cracks jokes to make his sister laugh…
Her dream ends. She turns on her heels, holding unsaid emotions in her throat, and walks away from the warmth she will never belong to.
"Ophelia," Raphael's authoritative voice makes her pause. Her heart beats a little faster at a hope she thought was long dead.
But meeting the cold, distant gaze of the man who is supposed to be her father extinguishes it.
"Are you sure you don't want to reconsider your engagement with Kayros?"
Ophelia almost laughs at the absurdity. She realizes she was never truly seen by her family.
Marrying Kayros?
The male lead of this world inside the novel?
The man who looks at her like she is nothing more than a sorry existence?
The man who will find the female lead, fall in love with her, and burn down cities for her?
"Kayros hates me," Ophelia says flatly.
"Does that even matter? You never even spent meaningful time together, and you broke the engagement."
Ophelia's jaw clenches painfully, chest tightening with a nameless ache.
"Father, you're furious that Czar flirted with Elosia," her voice shakes despite herself, "yet you want me to marry someone who doesn't even love me—"
"Since when are you and Ivy the same?" Raphael interrupts.
His cruel words strike Ophelia like a knife. Even Ivy freezes, blinking in disbelief. Rhys's expression turns to stunned confusion.
"You and Ivy aren't the same," Raphael repeats, firmer this time. Ophelia's eyes flutter. She feels the urge to grab the nearest knife and…
But she doesn't. She gives away no hint of the pain clawing at her from inside.
"You know what? I'll marry Kayros. And if he ends up killing me," her lips wobble, eyes glassy, "then don't bother burying me."
Raphael stands abruptly, chair screeching against the floor.
"OPHELIA BLACKWOOD!"
Ophelia freezes, breath caught in her throat, remembering every time she was scolded or screamed at… for existing.
Rhys grabs Raphael, holding him back.
"Dad, calm down! Today has already been a lot!"
Raphael's gaze burns with murderous intent. Ophelia's hands tremble, a sound escaping her throat—half sob, half laugh.
"You always blame me for Mother's death…"
The room freezes. Ophelia laughs bitterly, feeling the weight of her pain and resentment.
"I NEVER ASKED TO BE BORN! IF SHE DIED BECAUSE HER BODY WAS WEAK, HOW IS IT MY FAULT—"
Before she can finish, Ivy grabs Ophelia's ponytail, shoving her against the wall. Pain radiates through her back as she hits the corner of the bookshelf.
"It's your fault! You didn't have to exist, and our family was perfect!" Ivy's voice cracks with tears and anger. "We lost Mom because of you!"
Ophelia feels her tears spill. Physical pain is nothing compared to the words slicing her open.
"They still killed the reason your most beloved woman died protecting," Ophelia says, voice trembling yet fierce, her lips red and cheeks wet with tears.
The room stills. Ivy's hand freezes mid-air. Rhys blinks slowly, as if doused in cold water. Raphael's body goes numb.
"Mom loved me enough to die, yet you never honored her love," Ophelia slaps her chest, veins popping at her neck, each word heavier than the last.
"Leave…" Ivy's single word carries decades of resentment.
"I was never planning to stay forever," Ophelia says, letting the words hang. She takes one last look at her only blood-related family and knows…
She could yell, scream, beg—but this Blackwood family will never be hers.
"Father, arrange the engagement talks with the Natheniel family."
Raphael's eyes widen. The sudden coldness in her voice, the controlled composure…
"I will marry Kayros, just as both families agreed upon."