The night air pressed heavy against Diana's chest, thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and an unsettling silence. She lay motionless in the unfamiliar room, the luxurious bed beneath her more suffocating than comforting. Every muscle in her body was tight with unease, her heart still racing from the memory that had struck her earlier. The image of Jason, cold, unfeeling, watching as she fell would not leave her mind.
She stared at the high ceiling, tracing the ornate patterns etched into the molding, as if keeping her eyes open could ward off the nightmares that threatened to drag her under. But exhaustion soon overtook her. Her eyelids grew heavy, and slowly, reluctantly, she drifted off.
And that was when it happened.
The dream came not like the fleeting, disjointed images of before but vivid, sharp, and suffocatingly real.
---
She was standing in a garden shrouded in mist, barefoot and dressed in a pale gown that clung to her skin like silk. The ground was cold beneath her feet, the grass damp with dew. Lanterns flickered in the darkness, casting long, shifting shadows across the stone pathways.
She knew this place.
In the dream, she felt a strange familiarity with the garden, as though it had once been her sanctuary, a place she had cherished in another life. She could smell the faint sweetness of blooming jasmine, hear the distant trickle of water from a fountain hidden somewhere beyond the fog. But there was no peace here now, only the sharp bite of fear curling in her gut.
A figure stood ahead, cloaked in shadows at the far end of the path. Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew who it was.
Jason.
The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and Diana's heart pounded wildly in her chest as she took a step toward him. The mist swirled around her ankles, as if warning her to turn back, but she kept moving, drawn toward him by an invisible thread she could not resist.
"Jason," she whispered, her voice trembling.
He turned slowly, the mist parting to reveal his face those same piercing blue eyes, cold and emotionless. His expression was unreadable, distant, as though she meant nothing to him.
"Don't come closer," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.
But she ignored him. Something inside her, a desperate, aching need propelled her forward. She reached out a hand, and for a brief moment, she saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Guilt? Regret?
"Please," she whispered. "Help me."
Jason's jaw tightened, but he didn't move. And then, with a suddenness that knocked the breath from her lungs, he turned his back on her.
The mist thickened, rising like a wall between them, and she felt herself falling, stumbling backward into a void that seemed to stretch on forever.
"No!" she screamed, reaching out for him, but there was nothing to hold on to.
And then she was falling again just as she had in the first memory, a helpless, endless descent through darkness. Her heart shattered with the weight of betrayal.
But this time, just before the dream ended, she saw something new.
A second figure, watching from the shadows.
Marcus.
---
Diana jolted awake with a gasp, her entire body drenched in cold sweat. Her hands shook violently as she clutched the silk sheets, struggling to catch her breath. The dream had felt so real, so tangible, that it left her disoriented. For a moment, she wasn't sure where she was, whether she was still in that misty garden or in the Lancaster mansion.
It took several seconds for her breathing to slow, for reality to reassert itself. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, feeling the frantic beat of her heart beneath her palm.
"Marcus," she whispered, the name lingering on her tongue like a curse. Why had he been in the dream? What was his connection to her past?
Her mind swirled with questions, each more unsettling than the last. She had thought Jason was the villain of her story, the one responsible for her fall. But now… now she wasn't so sure.
Was Marcus involved in her death? Was he somehow responsible for what had happened to her in that other life?
A chill ran down her spine as she realized she didn't know who to trust—Jason, Marcus, or even herself.
---
The next morning, Diana forced herself out of bed, determined to act normal despite the storm raging inside her. She dressed quickly in the clothes left for her—an elegant but understated outfit that felt foreign on her skin—and made her way downstairs, guided by the faint murmur of voices coming from the dining room.
When she entered, Eliza Lancaster sat at the head of the long mahogany table, her posture regal and composed. Jason was seated to her right, his expression as cold and indifferent as it had been the night before.
Their conversation ceased the moment Diana stepped into the room.
"Good morning," Eliza said smoothly, her eyes scanning Diana with clinical precision. "I trust you slept well?"
Diana forced a tight smile. "As well as can be expected."
Jason didn't look at her, didn't acknowledge her presence in any way. His cold shoulder stung more than Diana cared to admit, but she refused to let it show. If he wanted to play this game, she would play it too.
Eliza gestured toward the empty seat across from Jason. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
Diana took her seat, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt like a stranger at this table, an outsider in a world that didn't want her. But she was here now, and she had no intention of backing down.
Eliza folded her hands elegantly on the table. "I understand this is a lot to take in, Diana. You've had a difficult life, but that is behind you now. You are a Lancaster, and we take care of our own."
The words sounded rehearsed, hollow, as if Eliza had delivered the same speech a hundred times before. Diana bit back the urge to scoff. She wasn't some lost puppy grateful for scraps of kindness. She wanted answers, real answers and she wasn't going to leave without them.
"What do you want from me?" Diana asked, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.
Eliza's smile didn't reach her eyes. "We only want what's best for you, dear. You belong here, with your family."
Diana narrowed her eyes. "Then why does Jason look like he wants to throw me out?"
The room fell into a tense silence. Jason's gaze snapped to hers, his expression hardening. "Don't mistake kindness for weakness," he said coldly. "You have no idea what you've walked into."
Diana held his gaze, refusing to back down. "Then enlighten me."
Jason's jaw clenched, but before he could respond, Eliza raised a hand, silencing him with a look. "That's enough, both of you."
Diana leaned back in her chair, her heart still pounding. She could feel the weight of Jason's stare, sharp and unforgiving, and it took everything in her not to flinch under his gaze.
This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
---
Later, as Diana wandered through the vast halls of the Lancaster mansion, she couldn't shake the lingering unease from her dream. The memory of Marcus watching from the shadows haunted her, and the questions it raised gnawed at her relentlessly.
She needed answers.
And she was going to find them—no matter what it took.
---
That night, as the rain drummed softly against the windows, Diana slipped into bed, her mind still racing. She knew sleep wouldn't come easily, but she welcomed the restlessness.
Because the next time the dream came, she would be ready.
And this time, she wouldn't let the past consume her.
She would uncover the truth.
Even if it destroyed her.