Elara stood on the balcony outside her room, the night breeze brushing against her skin like a feather, reminding her that this was real. She truly had come back. The lights of the estate shimmered below her, calm and undisturbed—so unlike the chaos that churned within her.
Behind her, the room was quiet again. Selene had left after their conversation, none the wiser. But Elara's pulse still throbbed with the remnants of the fury she'd expertly disguised. Her fingers curled around the fox plush she'd retrieved. She held it gently now, resting it against her chest. Her parents had bought it for her on her tenth birthday. She remembered their smiles. Their laughter. The warmth of a family that had once made her believe love was simple.
She had fought so hard to protect Selene in the past—through tears and bruises, defending her even through her betrayals. And in return, Selene had smiled as she watched her crumble.
Elara stepped back inside, locking the balcony doors behind her. She placed the fox safely on the shelf above her bed, right next to the photo of her parents. Then she walked to her desk and opened her journal.
She turned to the first page and wrote in bold, careful strokes:
"Trust no one but those who stood by me."
Then she flipped to the next page and began to list names:
Damien Blackwood – Greedy. Calculated. After the Voss name, not her.
Selene Voss – Manipulative. Envious. Played the long game.
Mr. Hanover – Ally. Must meet discreetly.
Nanny Agnes – Loyal. Must bring her in soon.
Cassian Vale – ???
She paused.
Cassian Vale. The ghost of his name on the page sent a strange ripple through her. In her first life, she had barely known him—just whispers of a rival to Damien, a silent presence in a dark suit at formal events. But she remembered him from after everything fell apart. When no one else showed up at her hearing, when the world painted her as mad and violent, it was Cassian who had spoken for her in court. He hadn't won. But he'd tried.
Why had he tried?
Elara tapped her pen against the paper, thoughtful. He was powerful—almost untouchable. Damien had hated him; that much she remembered. But that hatred had always felt one-sided. What if Cassian wasn't the "evil" rival Damien claimed, but simply a threat to Damien's climb?
The corners of her lips lifted slightly. Thinking of it now, it all started to make sense. She would find out.
The next morning, Elara moved with intention. She declined breakfast in the dining hall and instead asked Marius to prepare a tray for her study. She knew Selene would come sniffing around again, and she wanted her privacy before the act resumed.
With a gentle knock, Marius entered, pushing the tray cart with his usual grace.
"Miss Elara," he greeted softly.
Elara looked up from the folder she was reviewing. "Thank you, Marius. And thank you for yesterday."
His eyes crinkled at the edges. "It is good to have you back, Miss. Properly."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the heaviness in her chest lightened.
"Marius," she said, lowering her voice, "I want you to contact Mr. Hanover again. But not through the usual lines. Use the backup number my father gave you—the one hidden in the study ledger."
Marius's eyebrows rose slightly, the only sign of surprise he ever showed. Then he nodded. "Understood."
"And…" she hesitated. "Tell him to bring the papers. All of them."
He bowed—a gesture that held more respect than formality—and left without another word.
Later that afternoon, a message arrived:
Cassian Vale will be at the VossTech charity gala tomorrow evening.
Of course. VossTech's annual gala. The one her parents had started and she'd eventually come to despise. It had turned into a playground for social climbers and leeches. She knew Damien would expect her to attend; he would use the public appearance to keep up appearances. He'd pretend they were engaged, laugh at private jokes, and Selene would circle them like a shadow.
But this time, Elara wouldn't be their puppet. This time, she had her own script.
She opened her closet and ran her hand along the rows of dresses. She paused at a deep crimson gown she'd never dared wear before. It was bold. Unapologetic. A declaration.
Perfect.
That night, as Elara lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she let her mind drift to Cassian once more. He'd been so silent, yet so present. The kind of man who didn't need to announce his power; it simply followed him.
She remembered the last time she'd seen him—her wrists bound, her voice hoarse from begging the board not to believe the lies, and Cassian walking in like thunderclouds, his voice like ice:
"She is not insane. She is a victim."
No one had listened then. But she remembered now.
A knock on her door jolted her from her thoughts.
"Ellie?" came Selene's soft voice.
Elara's heart stilled. She didn't answer right away.
"Yes?" she called eventually, keeping her tone neutral.
Selene peeked in. "I just… I wanted to say goodnight. And that I'm sorry if I pushed too much earlier."
Elara sat up slowly. "It's fine."
Selene's eyes were wide and guileless, but Elara had seen what lay beneath.
"I just really care about you," Selene added. "And I want you to be happy."
Elara nodded. "I know."
Selene lingered a second longer, then smiled. "See you tomorrow."
Elara waited until the door clicked shut, then whispered to the empty room:
"No, Selene. You want you to be happy. And you don't care who you destroy to get it."
She turned over, her eyes burning.
Tomorrow, the gala.