Ella wasted no time diving into the Duke's estate project. The moment she stepped onto the sprawling grounds, the sheer magnitude of the task before her was evident. Still, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement bubbling beneath her calm exterior. It wasn't just another job—this estate was a challenge like none she had faced before, and the stakes were higher than ever.
Gathering her team of skilled workers, Ella laid out the blueprint for the project. Her voice carried with authority as she discussed the plans with her builders, making sure they understood the delicate balance between maintaining the Duke's lofty expectations and incorporating her innovative touches.
"Remember," she said, pointing to the sketches of the estate's grand facade, "we're not just building a home. This is a statement. It needs to scream elegance, but with the practicality of the systems we've developed."
Her team nodded in agreement, and Ella turned back to her drawings, her mind already spinning with ideas for the plumbing systems, the heating mechanisms, and the subtle modern conveniences that would blend seamlessly with the estate's traditional grandeur. She knew that each detail had to be perfect—nothing could look out of place in a nobleman's home.
Over the next few days, she worked tirelessly, walking the grounds, marking areas for construction, and tweaking designs as needed. The Duke's vision was clear in her mind: a grand residence, unmatched in luxury, with discreet but cutting-edge advancements. Each decision she made felt crucial, each calculation essential to not only impress the Duke but to solidify her growing reputation.
"This estate will be like no other," she muttered to herself as she sketched out the layout for an indoor bathhouse. She could already picture it—luxurious marble floors and walls, but hidden beneath would be the intricate plumbing system she had perfected. It would look like pure opulence, but function with the efficiency of a modern invention.
Ella paused for a moment, stepping back to look at the grand vision taking shape on her plans. This was the kind of project that could set her business on an entirely new path.
During one of their meetings, the Duke's impatience became increasingly apparent. He paced near the large windows of his study, the sun casting a sharp light over his tall, imposing figure. His arms were crossed, his tone clipped as he addressed Ella.
"How much longer until we see progress?" His words were pointed, with a thin layer of frustration underneath. "This project needs to be completed quickly. Delays are... unacceptable."
Ella stood across from him, holding her ground despite the pressure creeping into the room. She kept her expression calm, her hands steady as she glanced at the plans laid out on the polished mahogany table between them.
"I understand, Your Grace," she replied evenly, her voice professional. "I've already accelerated the timeline, but a project of this magnitude requires careful planning. Rushing it could compromise the quality."
The Duke's eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn't used to being told things couldn't be done on his terms, especially by a woman. His cold, business-like demeanor created a noticeable tension, but Ella knew she couldn't afford to falter. She had dealt with demanding clients before, but the Duke was a different challenge altogether. One wrong move could undo everything she'd built.
"I've been hearing a lot about these 'modern' designs of yours," he said, voice skeptical as he glanced at her sketches. "Especially this... plumbing system. I'm not convinced it's necessary for a noble residence. Some things don't need to be changed."
Ella inwardly sighed but kept her face neutral. She had expected resistance, especially when it came to innovations that disrupted the traditional way of life in the noble circles. Still, the Duke's clear disdain for anything he didn't fully understand made her job harder.
"I assure you," she said, carefully choosing her words, "the plumbing system will not only elevate the estate but also enhance the day-to-day comfort of living here. It's discreet—everything will maintain the look and elegance you desire, but with the convenience of modern engineering. The best of both worlds."
The Duke raised an eyebrow, clearly not entirely convinced, but he didn't press the point further. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his hands on the table, his tone still distant.
"Just make sure it doesn't compromise the appearance of this estate. I will not tolerate anything less than perfection." His gaze was icy, but there was a grudging acknowledgment in his voice. He couldn't deny Ella's growing reputation or her undeniable expertise, though it clearly didn't sit well with him.
Ella gave a small nod, keeping her voice steady. "Of course, Your Grace. Everything will be exactly as you envision. Trust me, I won't let you down."
The Duke lingered for a moment before straightening and stepping back from the table, his demeanor never softening. "See that you don't."
As he walked away, Ella let out a slow breath, the tension in the room finally releasing. She knew winning his trust completely wouldn't be easy, but she also knew she had the skills to back up her promises. If anyone could convince the Duke that modern designs had their place in his world, it was her.
As the days passed, Ella found ways to linger in Seraphina's presence, subtly weaving herself into the noblewoman's world. During one of her visits to the estate, Ella pretended to need Seraphina's input on some design choices.
"Lady Seraphina," Ella began, holding up two swatches of fabric as the woman glided into the room. "I was hoping to get your opinion on the color scheme for the drawing room. The Duke mentioned he prefers darker tones, but I thought a touch of something lighter might complement the room's size."
Seraphina paused, her icy blue eyes scanning the fabric before her. Her expression was cool, aloof, the same practiced mask she always wore. "The Duke has his preferences, but I suppose a contrast could work." Her voice was distant, as if she didn't truly care about the decision.
Ella nodded, maintaining a polite smile, but she wasn't here just for design advice. "I admire your taste," she added, trying to break the formality. "Your input has been invaluable on this project. Have you always had such a good eye for these things?"
Seraphina's posture stiffened slightly, but there was a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps—behind her composed expression. She hesitated for a moment before replying, "I wouldn't say that. It's just... expected of someone in my position."
Ella tilted her head, pretending to be absorbed in her work as she casually pressed on. "Still, it's quite impressive. Not everyone has an innate sense for these things."
There was silence as Seraphina regarded her, her guard still firmly in place, but the compliment seemed to catch her off guard. For a brief second, the sadness behind her eyes became more visible, softening the sharp edges of her demeanor.
"I appreciate the sentiment," Seraphina said quietly, her tone still formal but not as cold as before.
Ella noted the shift, small as it was. These moments, these brief glimpses of the woman behind the armor, were what she was waiting for. She knew Seraphina's heartbreak was still raw, the pain of being discarded for her own sister etched into every carefully controlled word and movement. But underneath, Ella could sense the vulnerability—Seraphina wasn't the villain everyone assumed her to be. She was just a woman who had been wronged.
Over time, Ella used every opportunity to draw Seraphina into conversation, asking for opinions on interior details, inviting her thoughts on various aspects of the estate. Though Seraphina remained guarded, Ella noticed more of those subtle cracks in her icy facade—small pauses in her sharp replies, moments when her voice softened, when her mask slipped just a little.
One afternoon, as they stood in the grand hall discussing chandeliers, Seraphina unexpectedly sighed. It was barely audible, but Ella caught it.
"This estate is turning out beautifully," Ella remarked, glancing over at her. "It must be strange to see it changing so much."
Seraphina didn't meet her eyes, her gaze fixed on the shimmering light above. "Strange," she echoed softly. "Yes, I suppose it is."
For the first time, her voice held a note of melancholy that Ella hadn't heard before. Seraphina quickly composed herself, turning away as if she'd said too much, but it was enough for Ella to see the cracks widening.
Ella smiled gently. "If you ever want to talk about... anything, I'm here."
Seraphina's eyes flickered to her, unreadable, but she said nothing more. She nodded once and turned to leave, but Ella could sense the shift. It wasn't much, but it was progress. Seraphina wasn't as unreachable as she seemed, and Ella was determined to keep chipping away at that icy exterior.
As Seraphina walked away, Ella allowed herself a quiet moment of satisfaction. This wasn't going to be easy, but slowly, she was getting closer. She could feel it. The woman they all saw as a villain was just waiting for someone to see her for who she really was. And Ella was going to be that person.
One afternoon, as Ella was walking through one of the quieter corridors of the Duke's estate, she paused when she noticed a door slightly ajar. From inside, the soft sound of brushstrokes on canvas reached her ears. Curious, she stepped closer and peered through the crack.
There, in the gentle light streaming through the tall windows, Seraphina was painting. Her usual poised, reserved demeanor was nowhere to be seen; instead, her face was soft, focused, as she delicately brought a landscape to life with each stroke of her brush. The scene was breathtaking—soft hues of lavender and gold melding into a sunset over rolling hills.
Ella couldn't help but stare for a moment, genuinely impressed. She'd never imagined that someone like Seraphina, who always seemed so tightly wound, could create something so... delicate.
Unable to resist, she knocked lightly on the doorframe. "I didn't know you were an artist."
Seraphina flinched slightly, her brush pausing mid-stroke as she turned toward Ella. Her eyes, usually guarded, widened for a split second before narrowing, the familiar icy walls quickly going back up. "It's just a hobby," she replied, her voice clipped, as if embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable moment.
Ella stepped into the room, offering a warm smile. "A hobby?" She glanced at the painting, then back at Seraphina. "If this is just a hobby, then you're a true artist. It's stunning."
Seraphina's fingers tightened around the brush. For a long moment, she didn't respond, her eyes flicking between Ella and the painting. Finally, with a sigh, she set the brush down. "It's nothing," she said softly, though her tone had lost its sharpness. "Just something to pass the time."
Ella tilted her head, studying the landscape. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You've captured the light perfectly. Have you been painting long?"
Seraphina hesitated, clearly not used to sharing personal details, but something in Ella's genuine admiration seemed to ease her tension. "Since I was a child," she admitted, her voice softer now, as if the act of painting had calmed the storm within her. "My mother used to encourage it... before she passed."
Ella's heart tugged at the vulnerability in Seraphina's words. "It's beautiful," she said again, gently. "You could hang these in any gallery, and they'd fit right in."
For the first time, Seraphina allowed a faint smile to touch her lips, though it was laced with sadness. "I doubt the Duke would approve of such... frivolity. He's not one for art."
Ella shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. "Then he's missing out. But if he doesn't appreciate it, I certainly do."
Seraphina glanced at her, clearly taken aback by the sincerity in Ella's voice. There was a long pause, and for the first time, Ella saw something real in her—a flicker of gratitude, maybe even trust. "Thank you," Seraphina said quietly, and though her words were simple, they held weight.
Ella smiled, sensing the walls between them starting to crack, even if just a little. "Maybe we could use some of your work in the Duke's new estate," she suggested playfully, her tone light. "Just imagine the look on his face when he walks into a room full of your paintings."
Seraphina actually laughed, a small, soft sound that Ella had never heard from her before. "I'm sure he'd be horrified," she replied, her voice finally losing some of its stiffness.
"Then it's settled," Ella teased. "We'll sneak one in when he's not looking."
The moment lingered, and for the first time, Seraphina didn't seem eager to end the conversation. There was a quiet ease between them now, and as Seraphina turned back to her painting, Ella felt a sense of accomplishment. This wasn't just about befriending her for the sake of the story anymore—this was about reaching the woman behind the mask, someone who had been deeply hurt and who desperately needed someone to see her for who she truly was.
As Ella quietly excused herself, she couldn't help but feel that this was the start of something important. Seraphina wasn't just a character in a novel anymore—she was real, and Ella was determined to help her rewrite her own story.
One afternoon, as Ella and Seraphina stood in the quiet of the estate's sunlit drawing room, their conversation drifted from the usual pleasantries about the estate's design to something more personal. Ella, seated beside a window, watched as Seraphina carefully cleaned her brushes, her usual sharpness dulled by a quiet introspection.
"Painting helps, doesn't it?" Ella said softly, her tone light but filled with genuine curiosity. She had noticed how much Seraphina gravitated toward her art, how it seemed to be the only time she truly relaxed.
Seraphina paused, her fingers stilling on the brush handle. She glanced at Ella, her expression unreadable for a moment before she looked away. "It does," she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. "It's... something I can control. Unlike the rest of my life."
Ella sensed a shift, a subtle crack in the wall Seraphina had so carefully built around herself. She didn't push, didn't rush to fill the silence, knowing that sometimes, the best support was just being present. She nodded gently, letting Seraphina take the lead.
After a few moments, Seraphina sighed and set down her brushes. "The engagement..." Her voice trailed off as if even saying the words caused her pain. She crossed her arms, her posture suddenly more closed off, defensive. "It wasn't just that he broke it off. It was the way it happened. The public humiliation, the whispers behind my back. Everyone looked at me like I had failed somehow, as if I were disposable."
Ella's heart ached for her. She had read about this in the novel—how the Duke had broken his engagement to Seraphina in favor of her sister, leaving her devastated. But hearing it directly from Seraphina, seeing the way it haunted her, made the pain feel more real, more raw.
"I'm sorry," Ella said softly. She wanted to say more, to reassure Seraphina that it wasn't her fault, that the Duke was the one who had wronged her. But she held back, knowing that Seraphina wasn't ready for advice or comfort just yet. What she needed right now was someone who would listen.
Seraphina looked at Ella, her icy demeanor briefly thawing as she studied her. "It still lingers," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how much time passes, I can't shake the feeling that I wasn't good enough."
Ella nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. "It's hard to forget when the wound's still fresh," she said quietly, not breaking their eye contact.
Seraphina blinked, clearly surprised by Ella's understanding. For a moment, her guard dropped even further, revealing a flicker of vulnerability that Ella hadn't seen before. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the walls went back up. Seraphina turned her attention back to her brushes, her expression hardening again.
"It doesn't matter now," she said, her tone colder, almost as if she was trying to convince herself. "I have to move forward."
Ella didn't argue. She knew that gaining Seraphina's full trust would take time, that rushing her wouldn't help. So, instead of offering advice or platitudes, she simply smiled softly and said, "Whenever you want to talk, I'm here."
Seraphina didn't respond right away, but there was a brief flicker in her eyes—a mixture of surprise and, perhaps, gratitude. She gave a small nod, the faintest of acknowledgments, before returning to her painting.
As Ella sat there, watching her quietly resume her work, she felt a sense of hope. This was a start. A fragile beginning, yes, but a beginning nonetheless. She knew that healing Seraphina's heart would take time, but Ella was determined to be the ally Seraphina desperately needed, even if Seraphina didn't realize it yet.
After her conversation with Seraphina, Ella couldn't stop thinking about the sadness that lingered in the woman's eyes. The novel had painted her as a villain—cold, calculating, and bitter—but the person Ella had spoken to was nothing like that. Seraphina wasn't a villain; she was just someone who had been deeply hurt, discarded by those she loved and humiliated by the very people who should have supported her.
Ella sat in her workshop that evening, her hands idly sketching designs for the Duke's estate, though her mind was elsewhere. She thought back to Seraphina's quiet admission, the way her voice trembled ever so slightly when she spoke of the engagement and the shame that followed. It was in that moment Ella realized just how crucial Seraphina's role was—not just in the story but in shaping the outcome of everything around them.
"I'm not going to let her become the villain," Ella whispered to herself, the resolve settling firmly in her chest.
She knew that if she could give Seraphina something to believe in again, something to restore her sense of self-worth, she might be able to change everything. The novel's Seraphina had spiraled because she felt abandoned and worthless, but Ella could see a way to rewrite that fate.
Ella leaned back in her chair, tapping her pencil against the table as an idea began to form. The estate project—it was the perfect opportunity. What if she could get Seraphina more involved, not just as a passive observer, but as someone whose opinion and skills were valued? After all, Seraphina had a talent for art, and there were plenty of ways her eye for design could be woven into the project. If Ella could give her a role, a purpose that went beyond her heartbreak, maybe Seraphina wouldn't feel so lost anymore.
The more she thought about it, the more excited Ella became. She could subtly integrate Seraphina's artistic vision into the estate, asking for her input on things like the interior design or even allowing her to oversee parts of the project. It wouldn't be easy—Seraphina was still guarded, and Ella knew she couldn't push too hard too soon—but small steps, small invitations to contribute, might make all the difference.
"She needs to feel valued again," Ella murmured, scribbling notes in the margin of her sketches. "She needs to see that she's more than just the Duke's discarded fiancée."
The pieces of her plan started to come together. Ella would need to be patient, to gently coax Seraphina out of her shell without making it seem like pity. The last thing Seraphina needed was to feel like a charity case. No, this had to be done in a way that gave Seraphina her dignity back, that reminded her of her worth.
And if it worked—if Seraphina found strength in herself again—it could change the entire course of the story. There wouldn't be a bitter villainess seeking revenge. Instead, Seraphina could find her own path, separate from the heartbreak and resentment that had consumed her in the original plot.
Ella smiled to herself, feeling a spark of hope. This was her chance to make a real difference, to alter not just Seraphina's fate but the fate of everyone around her. If Seraphina didn't fall into despair, the Duke wouldn't be forced to deal with the consequences of his cold decisions, and the tragedy that had once loomed over them all could be averted.
The thought filled Ella with a renewed sense of purpose. She wasn't just building an estate for the Duke—she was building a new future for everyone. And it all started with Seraphina.
With a final glance at her sketches, Ella rose from her desk, determination clear in her eyes. She would find a way to make Seraphina a part of this project, a part of something bigger than her past heartbreak. And maybe, just maybe, they could both rewrite their stories.
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A/n - Hello everyone hope you're doing okay, i apologise for the late chapter i have not been feeling well the past few days.