Ella stepped cautiously into the Duke's estate, her eyes widening as she took in the sheer opulence around her. The marble floors gleamed beneath her boots, reflecting the towering crystal chandeliers above. Expansive tapestries adorned the walls, and gold-trimmed mirrors caught glimpses of her as she was led through one extravagant hallway after another. It was impossible not to feel the weight of her own modest beginnings in this moment, but she shook off her nerves, straightening her back. She had a job to do, after all, and she wasn't about to let herself be overwhelmed by grandeur.
The servant ushered her into a stately room where the Duke awaited. He stood by the window, the afternoon sunlight casting a sharp outline on his tall frame. As he turned to greet her, his expression remained cool, assessing. There was a calm authority about him, an air of command that made it clear he was used to being in control of every situation.
"Miss Fletcher," he said, his voice as smooth as it was formal. "I've heard much about your... innovative approach to building."
Ella gave a small nod, her palms slightly clammy despite her best efforts to remain composed. "Thank you, Your Grace. I hope to exceed your expectations."
His eyes flickered briefly, a subtle hint of curiosity breaking through his otherwise stoic demeanor. "You've certainly garnered a reputation quickly, especially for someone of your... background." There was a pause, a barely noticeable emphasis on the word background, but Ella didn't flinch. She was used to that tone, the veiled skepticism. Instead, she offered a polite smile.
"Hard work and good ideas travel fast," she replied evenly.
The Duke didn't respond right away, but Ella could tell he was weighing her. After a moment, he stepped forward, gesturing to a large table where several documents were spread out. "This project," he began, his voice all business now, "is unlike anything you've done before. I want a new estate built, grander and more modern than what stands now. My fiancée and I will need a residence befitting our status." He glanced at her, as if gauging her reaction.
Ella kept her expression neutral, but internally, her mind was already whirling with possibilities. "I see. And you're looking for something that balances tradition with modern conveniences?" she asked, her tone professional, though her brain was buzzing with excitement at the challenge.
"Precisely," the Duke confirmed. "However, discretion is paramount. This estate will be for myself and my fiancée—Seraphina's sister." The way he said it was casual, almost dismissive, but Ella's heart skipped a beat. Seraphina. The so-called villainess from the novel. So, she was truly this close to the main storyline now.
Ella quickly masked her surprise and continued, focusing on the details. "Of course, Your Grace. I'll ensure both the design and the construction are handled with the utmost privacy." She began mentally sketching ideas, balancing the grandeur of noble life with her innovative flair.
"Good," the Duke replied, his tone approving. "Your designs will need to reflect our position—nothing too extravagant, but undeniably noble. And I trust your... inventions will be as discreet as possible."
"Absolutely," Ella said, already picturing how she could seamlessly integrate modern plumbing and heating into a design that maintained the estate's stately elegance.
As their meeting continued, the Duke's cold demeanor never fully thawed, but there was a quiet respect in his eyes as Ella outlined her vision. She was no longer just the girl from a small shop selling soaps—she was an innovator on the verge of something much larger.
Ella laid out the preliminary sketches on the table between them, feeling the Duke's eyes following her every move. She straightened the parchment, feeling the weight of the moment as she cleared her throat and began. "Your Grace, I've been considering how to blend tradition with innovation in a way that reflects the grandeur of your estate while introducing more modern conveniences. Plumbing, for instance, could be seamlessly integrated without disturbing the estate's noble aesthetic."
The Duke raised an eyebrow, a trace of skepticism in his otherwise composed expression. "Plumbing? Running water, I assume?"
"Exactly," Ella responded, nodding. "A discreet system—nothing that would distract from the overall elegance of the estate. But it would make daily life more efficient for the household staff and, of course, more comfortable for you and your fiancée."
He studied her for a moment, the silence growing thick between them. "Efficient, perhaps," he said, his voice measured, "but these newfangled inventions have a way of becoming... unreliable."
Ella didn't flinch. She expected the doubt. "I understand your concerns, Your Grace. But I assure you, I've tested these systems thoroughly. Not only are they reliable, but they've proven to improve the quality of life without compromising the dignity of a noble residence."
The Duke remained silent for a beat too long, and Ella could sense the tension in the air. There was something else behind his hesitance, something unspoken but heavy. His eyes drifted over her as though measuring not just her words, but her ability as a woman standing in a space that, traditionally, wasn't hers. It was clear he wasn't used to dealing with women in business, especially ones asserting their ideas with such confidence.
Ella's heart pounded in her chest, but she didn't waver. She held his gaze, matching his composed demeanor with her own calm assurance. "Your estate will retain its nobility, Your Grace," she added, her voice steady. "But it can also be an example of how tradition and modern innovation can coexist. It can set a new standard, one that reflects not just your status, but the future."
The Duke leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. His fingers tapped once on the table, and though he still looked doubtful, there was something new in his eyes—curiosity. "Very well," he said, his voice cool but firm. "You will have creative freedom. But know this—I will not tolerate anything that undermines the estate's prestige. Everything you do must enhance it."
"Of course," Ella replied with a polite bow of her head. "You have my word."
As their conversation continued, Ella could still sense his reservations, the subtle undertone of disdain that lingered in his clipped responses. But she wasn't discouraged. The more they talked, the more her expertise showed through, and she could tell that, despite his skepticism, the Duke couldn't deny she was the best choice for the project.
"You've thought of everything, haven't you?" he remarked dryly, after a particularly detailed explanation of how her plumbing system would be discreetly hidden within the estate's walls.
"I try to leave nothing to chance," Ella said with a small smile. "Especially when working on something as important as this."
The Duke studied her once more, this time with a touch less skepticism. He inclined his head slightly, as if conceding a point he wasn't entirely ready to admit aloud. "I expect great things from you, Miss Fletcher," he said.
"You won't be disappointed," Ella replied, confident that her work would speak for itself.
As Ella exited the meeting room, her mind still buzzing with ideas and plans for the Duke's estate, she found herself momentarily lost in the sprawling maze of corridors. The sheer grandeur of the estate was overwhelming, the high ceilings and intricate decor reminding her how far she had come from her modest beginnings.
Turning a corner, Ella abruptly stopped. Just ahead, a woman stood, her elegant figure framed by the sunlight streaming through a grand arched window. Seraphina. The "villainess" of the novel, the character Ella had dreaded encountering, now stood only a few paces away.
Seraphina was poised, her back straight, and every inch of her appearance screamed nobility. Her gown, a deep emerald that contrasted with her pale skin, flowed effortlessly around her as she moved with a regal grace. Her beauty was undeniable, but what struck Ella most wasn't her appearance—it was the sadness in her eyes, a quiet sorrow that clung to her even as she held her head high.
Ella's heart skipped a beat. So this is Seraphina, she thought, taking in the figure before her. In the novel, Seraphina was painted as the cold, calculating villainess who was cast aside by the Duke for her younger, more innocent sister. But seeing her now, Ella realized that the woman standing before her wasn't the villain she had imagined. She was simply... heartbroken.
Seraphina's gaze flickered toward Ella, and for a moment, their eyes met. Ella offered a polite nod, unsure of how to approach her. She hadn't planned for this meeting, not yet. But fate, it seemed, had other ideas.
"Good day," Seraphina's voice was soft, yet there was an underlying steel in her tone. Her expression remained unreadable, though Ella detected a slight tension in her posture, as if she were used to holding herself together even when the weight of the world pressed down on her.
"Good day, Lady Seraphina," Ella replied, keeping her voice light, though her heart raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. This was the woman who, in the story, had her engagement shattered, her reputation dragged through the mud—all for a man who had abandoned her for her own sister. But standing here, Seraphina seemed so much more than just a character in a book. She was real, and her pain, though hidden behind her composed exterior, felt palpable.
Their interaction was brief—an exchange of pleasantries, nothing more—but it was enough for Ella to see through the icy mask Seraphina wore. There was a flicker of something else in her expression, something fragile. And then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a melancholic smile. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Ella caught it, and it was enough to make her resolve harden.
As Seraphina turned and walked away, her gown trailing behind her like a wave of silk, Ella stood frozen in place for a moment, her mind racing. The woman she had just met wasn't the villain. She wasn't the scheming character the novel had made her out to be. She was a woman who had been wronged, discarded by the man she loved, and now forced to wear a mask of indifference to survive in a world that didn't care for her heartbreak.
Ella's resolve solidified in that instant. She couldn't stand by and let the story unfold the way it had in the book. Seraphina deserved better. She wasn't just a character anymore—she was a person, and Ella would do everything in her power to change her fate.
With renewed determination, Ella turned back toward the entrance of the estate. The encounter had changed something within her. This wasn't just about business anymore. It was personal.
As she handed her sketches to one of the Duke's guards, her thoughts were still on Seraphina. The icy façade, the subtle sadness behind her eyes—it all made Ella even more determined to befriend her, to help her rewrite the narrative that had painted her as the villainess.
The Duke's estate loomed around her, grand and imposing, but Ella felt a new kind of strength building within her. She was no longer just an outsider in this world. She was part of the story now, and she had the power to change it.
After leaving the meeting with the Duke, Ella's thoughts raced, piecing together fragments of what she knew about the novel. The realization hit her hard—she was in the thick of the storyline. The timing was clear now. This was just after the Duke had broken off his engagement with Seraphina. The heartbreak she'd seen in Seraphina's eyes during their brief encounter wasn't some distant memory; it was fresh, raw, and very much present.
Ella slowed her pace as she made her way through the grand corridors of the estate, her mind working overtime. This is it, she thought. This is the turning point. In the novel, this was the moment when Seraphina's life unraveled. The Duke's decision had cast her aside for her younger sister, leaving her bitter and scorned, ultimately leading to the tragic spiral that painted Seraphina as the villainess. But now, Ella was here—inside the story—and she couldn't just sit by and watch it unfold as it had in the pages she once read for fun.
As she stepped out into the courtyard, the cool breeze did little to ease the knot in her stomach. The weight of this realization settled over her, and yet, beneath it all, there was a flicker of determination. She couldn't change everything, but she could change this. Seraphina didn't have to fall into the same fate. Ella had the knowledge, the insight, and now the proximity to both the Duke and Seraphina to make a difference.
Her fingers absently traced the leather strap of her bag as she thought back to her conversation with the Duke. He had been cold and formal, but clearly intrigued by her ideas. His words still echoed in her mind—"This will be my future residence with my fiancée." His fiancée. Ella knew exactly who that was, and it wasn't Seraphina.
She closed her eyes briefly, letting the significance of the moment sink in. The heartbreak Seraphina was enduring wasn't just a subplot. It was the catalyst for everything that would go wrong in her life. And Ella was standing at the precipice of that moment—right before the story tipped into tragedy.
Ella opened her eyes, her jaw tightening in resolve. She couldn't let the novel's events play out as they had. Seraphina deserved better. This world didn't have to mirror the one she'd read about. She could intervene. She would intervene.
"I can change this," Ella whispered to herself, her voice barely audible but filled with conviction. She would find a way to befriend Seraphina, to support her through this dark time. If she could prevent Seraphina from becoming the villain everyone expected her to be, maybe—just maybe—the story's ending would be different.
Ella's mind churned with possibilities as she made her way to the carriage that waited for her. She wasn't just here to build estates or introduce modern innovations anymore. This was about more than plumbing or architecture. This was about rewriting a story. About saving someone who had been cast as the antagonist in a world that never gave her a chance.
As she climbed into the carriage, she felt a new sense of purpose wash over her. The road ahead wouldn't be easy. The Duke was clearly set on his new path, and Seraphina had been left to navigate the wreckage of her shattered engagement. But Ella knew she could help. She had to.
With the carriage starting to move, Ella leaned back against the seat, her mind already spinning with plans. Befriending Seraphina was only the first step. What came after would be critical, and she needed to be ready.
"I'm not letting this story end the way it did before," Ella murmured, her gaze fixed on the horizon. And as the Duke's estate faded behind her, she knew that she was ready to change more than just the layout of his future home—she was ready to change the course of fate itself.
As Ella returned to her workshop, her mind was already whirring with possibilities. The carriage ride had given her plenty of time to reflect, and now, stepping into the familiar space filled with the scent of wood and metal, she felt a sense of clarity. She had a plan—or at least the beginnings of one. Befriending Seraphina wasn't going to be easy, but Ella was determined. This wasn't just about saving the "villainess" from her fate in the novel—it was about restoring her dignity and giving her a second chance.
She set her bag down on a workbench, the weight of the Duke's estate sketches and plans still heavy in her hands. This estate, she thought, will be my way in. If she could use this massive project to build a bridge between herself and Seraphina, she might be able to get close enough to really understand her.
Ella knew that the noblewoman had been reduced to a caricature in the novel—a jealous, bitter woman cast aside by a Duke who wanted her younger sister. But that brief encounter at the estate had already shown her that Seraphina was so much more. There was a depth to her sadness, a dignity in the way she carried herself despite everything she'd lost. And Ella felt a pang of empathy.
She isn't the villain here, Ella thought, as she unrolled the blueprints on her desk. The project could be her chance to not only help Seraphina but also to learn more about what had really happened. The novel only gave one perspective—the Duke's and, later, his new fiancée's. But Ella had the unique opportunity to hear Seraphina's side, to truly understand her pain, and maybe even rewrite the narrative.
As Ella began sketching out preliminary designs for the estate, her mind continued to formulate her strategy. She would make herself indispensable to the Duke and his fiancée—someone they trusted with their most important project. In doing so, she'd create opportunities to interact with Seraphina, whether by requesting her input on the design or offering support in the face of her recent heartbreak.
The estate wasn't just about grand ballrooms and innovative plumbing systems—it was her key to getting close to Seraphina. And once she had that opportunity, Ella was determined to use it wisely.
She could already imagine the conversations. She wouldn't push too hard, not at first. Seraphina was proud, and likely still raw from the public humiliation of the broken engagement. But through small, thoughtful gestures—like asking for her opinion on a design detail or inviting her to tour the site—Ella hoped to slowly build trust.
Her pen paused over the paper as she thought about what Seraphina must be feeling right now. Cast aside, forgotten, her reputation in tatters. And all for the sake of a younger sister who would marry the Duke and step into the life Seraphina had been promised. The injustice of it all stirred something fierce in Ella.
"I'm not letting this happen," she muttered to herself, her grip tightening on the pen. Not again. Not if I can help it.
She'd start small, working through the estate project to forge a connection with Seraphina. But Ella was already thinking bigger. She could use her growing influence to create opportunities for Seraphina to regain her standing in society. Maybe it was through introducing her to new allies, or perhaps even giving her a role in the estate project itself—something that would remind her of her own worth.
Ella rolled up the blueprints, a sense of determination solidifying in her chest. The project was massive, yes, but the stakes were even higher. It wasn't just about building the Duke's estate anymore—it was about rewriting Seraphina's story, and in doing so, changing the entire trajectory of the novel's plot.
"Seraphina deserves better," Ella said quietly, her gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the windows of her workshop. And with a renewed sense of purpose, she knew exactly how she was going to help her get it.