Two months had passed since Ella first broke through Seraphina's icy exterior, and five since the renovations on the Duke's estate began. Now, as she stood back to admire the finished project, she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. The sprawling estate had been transformed, a perfect blend of old-world elegance and her modern innovations. Everything had gone smoother than she had dared to hope, despite the Duke's ever-present skepticism and the daunting complexity of the work. His constant pressure for perfection had tested her patience more than once, but the finished result spoke for itself. The estate had become more than just another commission; it was a symbol of her success and growing influence.
Ella found herself reflecting on how much had changed since she first entered this world. Not only had she completed one of the most ambitious projects of her career, but she had also begun to forge a subtle bond with Seraphina. The woman who had once seemed unreachable, guarded behind layers of pain and bitterness, now seemed just a little more open with every passing day. Their conversations, though still reserved, were becoming more frequent, and Ella sensed the fragile beginnings of trust forming between them. It was progress—slow, but steady—and Ella knew that if she wanted to change Seraphina's fate, she had to continue nurturing that bond.
Their friendship was still delicate, like a flower cautiously blooming after a harsh winter, but it was there. Seraphina had let her guard down more than once, sharing bits and pieces of herself that Ella had never expected to hear. Though the journey was far from over, Ella could see the potential. Seraphina wasn't the villain the novel had made her out to be. She was simply a woman who had been wronged, and Ella was more determined than ever to rewrite her story.
The Duke surveyed the newly renovated estate, his cold eyes sweeping over every detail with the same intensity he had shown throughout the project. His face, as usual, was unreadable, but there was something in his posture—a slight nod of approval, a brief moment where his gaze lingered on a particularly grand feature—that told Ella he was impressed. More impressed than he wanted to let on. The estate had turned out even more grand and modern than he could have imagined, blending traditional nobility with innovative touches that set it apart from anything else in the city.
Yet, despite his clear admiration for her work, the Duke's demeanor remained as distant and authoritarian as ever. He still carried that underlying air of superiority, an unspoken belief that women had no place in such important matters—let alone a common woman like Ella. "Your designs exceeded expectations," he said, his voice clipped and formal. "Though I imagine it's not too difficult when one spends so much time on trivialities." His compliment, such as it was, came wrapped in his usual condescending tone, but Ella wasn't fazed. She'd dealt with worse throughout the project and still emerged with success. The respect he grudgingly showed, though not entirely free from his ingrained biases, was more than she had expected from him.
As they concluded their final meeting, the Duke paused for a moment before adding, "There is a ball at the end of the year. A gathering of significance. You will attend." It wasn't a question. Ella blinked, surprised by the abruptness of the invitation. The end-of-year ball. She had heard of it—an event of prestige and luxury, reserved for the noble elite. For a commoner, and especially a woman in business, receiving an invitation to such an affair was nearly unheard of. This was more than just a reward for her hard work. It was a mark of her rising status, an acknowledgment, however reluctant, of her accomplishments.
But the thrill of being invited quickly gave way to a wave of unease as Ella recalled something from the novel. This was the same ball where the Duke had humiliated Seraphina, his former fiancée, in front of all the nobles. In the novel, Seraphina had attended the ball, trying to hold her head high despite the recent end of her engagement to the Duke.
The scene had been cruel. The Duke had made a cutting remark about Seraphina's "desperation," a barb that had shattered whatever dignity she had left. The crowd had whispered behind their fans, their judgment and mockery palpable. Seraphina, humiliated and heartbroken, had stormed out of the ballroom. It was that night when her heart fully hardened, turning her into the villainess the novel had painted her as—cold, calculating, and bent on revenge.
Ella's heart clenched at the memory. She couldn't let that happen. Now that she was here, living inside the story, she had the power to stop it. She couldn't allow Seraphina to suffer the same fate. The end-of-year ball was no longer just a social event; it was a pivotal moment in the story, one that she was determined to change. If she could find a way to prevent the Duke from publicly shaming Seraphina, or even better, help Seraphina regain her confidence, the entire trajectory of the novel could shift.
As the Duke's cold invitation still hung in the air, Ella nodded, masking her swirling thoughts with a calm smile. "I would be honored to attend," she replied smoothly. Inside, however, she was already strategizing. This ball wouldn't go the way it had in the novel. Not if she had anything to say about it.
Ella stepped out of the carriage, her heart racing as she gazed up at the Duke's grand estate, which looked even more dazzling under the soft glow of lanterns. Tonight, the ballroom was illuminated for the most prestigious event of the year. Clutching the skirt of her gown, a dress far more elegant than anything she'd ever worn, Ella took a deep breath and made her way inside, her footsteps barely audible on the marble floors.
The grand ballroom was even more magnificent than she had imagined. Chandeliers dripped with crystal, casting a soft, glittering light over the sea of nobles dressed in their finest silks and velvets. Laughter and the soft hum of conversation filled the air, while an orchestra played softly in the background. For a moment, Ella stood at the entrance, overwhelmed by the grandeur and the sheer scale of the event. She had been to parties before, but nothing like this. This was high society at its most extravagant, and for a common woman like her, being here was both thrilling and intimidating.
"Focus," she whispered to herself, forcing her feet to move. As she stepped further into the room, the nobles' attention shifted her way. She could feel their gazes on her, curious, some even surprised. Ella held her head high, her nerves barely concealed under her composed smile.
"Is that her? The one who renovated the Duke's estate?" a voice whispered nearby. Ella's heart skipped, but she didn't look. She'd become used to whispers in her presence over the past few months, but tonight felt different. It wasn't the wary gossip of suspicion she'd endured during the renovation. Tonight, the whispers carried something new—admiration.
Several nobles began to approach her, all polite smiles and curious eyes. "Lady Ellanore, isn't it?" A tall man in a gold-trimmed coat gave her a courteous nod. "I must say, your work at the Duke's estate is the talk of the city. Simply marvelous."
Another noblewoman, her gown the color of deep sapphire, chimed in, "The blend of modern convenience with classic elegance—it's truly something to behold. I was wondering if you might consider working on my summer home."
Ella smiled graciously, her initial nerves slipping away. "Thank you," she said, bowing her head slightly. "I'd be honored to discuss any future projects." As more nobles approached her, the evening turned into an unexpected networking opportunity, with one lord after another praising her work. Ella took note of each compliment, subtly positioning herself for potential commissions, all while keeping her true purpose in the back of her mind.
As she moved through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, her eyes kept drifting to Seraphina. The young woman stood near the far end of the ballroom, poised and elegant, but there was a stillness to her, as if she were a statue among the living. Her ice-blonde hair was pinned up in an intricate style, and her gown—a rich emerald green—complimented her striking features, but the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. Seraphina was trying to appear unaffected, but Ella knew better. This was the night where, in the novel, Seraphina's world crumbled.
Beside Seraphina stood her sister, the Duke's current fiancée. Lady Celeste was everything the court expected in a future duchess—radiant, graceful, and every bit as beautiful as Seraphina, but in a softer, more delicate way. Celeste's golden hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, and her laughter chimed lightly as she spoke with guests, seemingly unaware of the tension between Seraphina and the Duke, who stood just a few feet away.
Ella's chest tightened as she watched the Duke glance in Seraphina's direction with that same cold indifference she had come to know so well. This was the moment, the turning point where the Duke would publicly favor Celeste and shatter Seraphina's dignity. Ella couldn't let that happen. Not this time.
While exchanging small talk with another noble, Ella kept one eye on the Crown Prince, who had been watching Seraphina with an unusual intensity. The prince, with his sharp features and regal bearing, had always struck Ella as someone who saw beyond appearances. And tonight, there was something in the way he looked at Seraphina—something that gave Ella hope.
As the evening wore on, Ella quietly maneuvered through the crowd, subtly guiding the prince closer to where Seraphina stood. She made a point of introducing herself to one of the prince's aides, casually mentioning how lovely Seraphina's artistic contributions to the Duke's estate had been, subtly painting her in a light that might catch his attention further.
Then, as if fate—or Ella's carefully orchestrated plan—had aligned, the Crown Prince found himself near Seraphina. With a small smile, he stepped forward, addressing her with the grace of a practiced royal. "Lady Seraphina," he began, his voice smooth and low, "I've been meaning to ask—what inspired the art pieces you've created for the Duke's estate? They are…remarkable."
Seraphina blinked, taken aback by his sudden interest. For a moment, the cold mask she wore faltered, and she glanced up at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Your Highness," she said softly, "I didn't think anyone had noticed." There was a warmth in her voice that hadn't been there before, a small spark of hope.
Ella, watching from a safe distance, smiled to herself. She could see the Duke out of the corner of her eye, his jaw tightening slightly as he noticed the prince speaking with Seraphina. Though he said nothing, Ella could feel the jealousy simmering beneath his composed exterior. It was working—she had managed to shift the narrative, if only a little.
Meanwhile, other nobles continued to comment on the beauty of the renovations, their admiration for Ella growing as the night wore on. But all she cared about was keeping the Duke's attention away from Seraphina's vulnerability and planting the seeds of a new future for her. The night wasn't over, but it was clear that things were beginning to shift, and Ella was determined to see it through.
---
Earlier-
Ella's eyes scanned the ballroom, her nerves prickling as she reminded herself of the significance of tonight. The ball was the turning point in Seraphina's fate, the moment where everything in the novel unraveled for her. Ella could feel the weight of that knowledge pressing down on her, making her hyper-aware of every glance, every movement. She couldn't afford to miss a thing.
From across the room, Seraphina stood tall in her emerald gown, a picture of perfection to the untrained eye. Her hair was meticulously styled, her posture elegant, but Ella could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. Seraphina's smile was practiced, the kind that never quite reached her eyes. There was an unease beneath the surface, a kind of quiet dread that only someone who knew her well could notice. Ella, having spent months observing her, could sense it.
"She's bracing herself," Ella thought, watching Seraphina as she exchanged brief pleasantries with passing guests. It was subtle, but there—an anxious flicker in her gaze whenever the Duke came near. Though Seraphina's face remained impassive, Ella could almost feel her fear, as if Seraphina knew that something was coming but couldn't place what.
Ella's heart clenched. "Not this time," she promised herself, straightening her back. She wasn't going to let the Duke break Seraphina. Not like in the novel. She had come too far, invested too much in protecting her, to let history repeat itself.
Throughout the evening, Ella stayed close to the edges of the room, pretending to engage in casual conversation with the other nobles who approached her. They praised her work on the estate, some even admiring her presence at such a prestigious event, but her mind was elsewhere. Always, her eyes flicked back to Seraphina.
A duke's wife, radiant and adorned with jewels, commented on the Duke's estate. "Your designs are revolutionary," she remarked, her voice polite but probing. "So modern and yet so respectful of tradition. Tell me, how did you manage to blend the two?"
Ella smiled and offered her a gracious reply, but her attention remained divided. She couldn't afford to be too distracted. Any moment now, the Duke could make his move, and the ball could take a terrible turn.
As the evening stretched on, the tension in the room began to grow. Ella noticed the Duke watching Seraphina from time to time, his expression cold, his eyes calculating. It was the same look she'd read about in the novel—his distaste for her sister's lingering presence palpable, his desire to publicly humiliate her hanging in the air like a storm cloud waiting to burst.
Seraphina, though trying to maintain her composure, was clearly feeling the pressure. She stood near the refreshments table, her fingers brushing absently along the lace of her gown, her usual confidence replaced by something more fragile. Ella could see the cracks in her facade—the brief moments where Seraphina's eyes darted toward the Duke, as if waiting for the inevitable blow.
Ella's pulse quickened. She had to act fast. But how? She couldn't simply intervene without drawing attention to herself, and besides, she needed to give Seraphina a chance to hold onto her dignity without seeming like she needed saving.
Just then, Ella's eyes caught the figure of the Crown Prince again. He was standing near the grand staircase, speaking with one of his advisors, but his gaze kept drifting toward Seraphina. It wasn't just casual interest—there was something more there, something that could be used to Seraphina's advantage.
A plan started to form in Ella's mind. The Crown Prince had already shown an interest in Seraphina's art. If she could create an opportunity for them to talk, maybe—just maybe—Seraphina would have a chance to shine, to be seen as more than just the Duke's discarded fiancée. It was a delicate move, but it could work.
Ella subtly excused herself from the conversation she'd been half-listening to and made her way closer to the Prince, keeping her movements casual. She waited for a lull in his conversation, then gently approached one of his advisors, whom she had briefly met earlier.
"Good evening," she said softly, offering a polite nod. "I couldn't help but notice the Prince's interest in Lady Seraphina's artwork earlier. She really does have a remarkable talent, doesn't she? I'm sure she'd be honored to speak with him about her latest pieces."
The advisor raised an eyebrow, glancing at the Prince before turning back to Ella. "Lady Seraphina, you say?"
Ella smiled, keeping her tone light. "Yes, she contributed several pieces to the Duke's estate. Truly stunning work. It would be a shame if someone with such talent went unnoticed tonight."
The advisor considered this for a moment, then leaned over to the Prince, whispering something in his ear. Ella watched as the Prince's gaze once again found Seraphina, a flicker of curiosity passing over his face. He nodded, and within moments, he was making his way toward her.
Ella's heart raced. This was it—the moment Seraphina needed. A chance to be seen, to be valued. And the Duke, though watching with cold intensity, wouldn't dare intervene with the Crown Prince involved. For now, Seraphina was safe from humiliation.
As the Prince approached Seraphina, Ella slipped back into the crowd, keeping her distance but watching the interaction unfold. She saw the surprise on Seraphina's face, followed by a brief moment of panic as she realized the Crown Prince was speaking to her. But then, something shifted. Seraphina took a deep breath, her poise returning, and she responded to the Prince with grace and elegance.
Ella's chest swelled with pride. The night wasn't over yet, but for now, Seraphina was standing tall, and the Duke's cruel intentions had been thwarted—at least for the moment. Ella had bought them time, and with any luck, she could continue to steer the story away from its tragic path.
---
Ella kept her eyes on the Duke as the night pressed on, her senses on high alert. Every time he moved, her heart leapt, convinced he was about to humiliate Seraphina just like in the novel. But she had come too far to let things go that way. Tonight was different—she was going to stop him, even if it meant being a little sneaky.
As the ballroom bustled with laughter and chatter, Ella noticed the Duke shift his attention toward Seraphina. He straightened his coat and began to make his way in her direction. His eyes were cold and calculating, just as the novel had described, and Ella's stomach twisted. She could feel the tension building, the air almost crackling with anticipation. If she didn't act fast, things would unravel in the worst way.
Without missing a beat, Ella made her move. She took a deep breath and strode purposefully across the room, intercepting the Duke just as he was about to reach Seraphina.
"Ah, Your Grace!" she exclaimed brightly, her voice loud enough to draw a few glances from nearby guests. "I was hoping to catch you before the evening ended. There's something I wanted to discuss about the estate—one final touch that I believe could truly elevate its design."
The Duke blinked, momentarily thrown off by her sudden interruption. His eyes flicked from Ella to Seraphina, and back again, clearly irritated by the distraction. He cleared his throat. "I was on my way to—"
"Oh, I know, but this really can't wait," Ella insisted, her smile unwavering. "It's about the grand fireplace in the east wing. I was thinking—what if we added a bit more marble detail to complement the overall theme? It could add an extra layer of sophistication." She babbled on, layering more and more details to keep him occupied.
The Duke's lips pressed into a thin line. "More marble?" His tone was clipped, but she could see the wheels turning in his head. He was still eager to put Seraphina in her place, but now she had him trapped in this utterly mundane conversation.
"Yes, marble!" Ella beamed, refusing to give him an out. "You know, nothing too extravagant—just enough to make a statement, a final flourish that would be the talk of the town. Imagine how impressed your future guests will be!"
He grunted, clearly growing impatient, but Ella pressed on, talking him in circles about the possibilities of interior design. Meanwhile, she kept one eye on Seraphina, who was now in conversation with the Crown Prince. It was working. Seraphina was safe—for now, at least.
The Duke, however, was not fooled for long. His gaze kept darting toward Seraphina and the Prince, his expression darkening with each glance. The longer the two spoke, the more rigid his posture became. He clearly didn't like seeing her so close to the Crown Prince, especially not after everything that had happened between them.
"Is there something on your mind, Your Grace?" Ella asked innocently, tilting her head as she watched his growing discomfort.
The Duke gave a stiff shrug, his eyes narrowing. "Nothing of importance," he muttered, though the tightness in his jaw told a different story. "I see Lady Seraphina has found herself some interesting company."
Ella raised her eyebrows, pretending not to notice the bitter edge in his voice. "Oh, yes, the Crown Prince! Isn't it wonderful how interested he seems in her art? She's so talented, and it's about time someone of his stature recognized that."
The Duke's mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something snide but couldn't quite find the words. His eyes followed Seraphina and the Prince, jealousy practically radiating off of him in waves, though he was clearly trying to keep his cold demeanor intact.
Ella fought back a grin. Got him.
She kept talking, skillfully keeping the conversation light and filled with enough detail to keep the Duke distracted. All the while, she could see him fuming inwardly, his usual composed mask slipping just enough for her to notice. He was jealous, no doubt about it, and it was almost comical to watch him try and hide it behind his disinterested facade.
"You seem tense, Your Grace," she teased lightly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I do hope you're not letting the stress of hosting such a grand event get to you. After all, tonight is meant to be a celebration."
The Duke's eyes flashed with annoyance, but he quickly reined it in, straightening his shoulders. "Of course not," he replied stiffly. "It's nothing. Merely... observing."
"Observing, indeed," Ella mused, hiding a smirk as she followed his gaze to the Crown Prince and Seraphina, who were now deep in conversation, completely unaware of the Duke's growing frustration.
She felt a flicker of triumph. Seraphina was safe, and Ella had managed to turn the Duke's own jealousy against him. She couldn't help but think how ironic it was—his need to control everything was now keeping him distracted long enough for Seraphina to enjoy the evening, free from the public humiliation that had once been her fate.
As the night wore on, Ella kept the Duke occupied with trivial matters, all the while savoring the small victory she had won. By the end of the ball, it was clear that Seraphina had avoided the disaster that had once loomed over her. And the Duke? Well, his possessive, jealous glances were all the evidence Ella needed that she had successfully derailed his plans—at least for tonight.
With a satisfied smile, Ella excused herself from the Duke's company and slipped back into the crowd, feeling more confident than ever that she could change the course of this story.
Ella stood near the grand doors of the ballroom, watching the crowd swirl around in their elegant attire. The music was still playing, and laughter filled the air, but she felt a sense of calm washing over her. She had done it—she had changed a pivotal moment in the story, saving Seraphina from the humiliation that had been written into her fate. The subtle way Seraphina had smiled throughout the evening, no longer looking like the broken woman Ella had once feared she would become, was all the confirmation Ella needed. This victory was hers.
She lingered by the doorway, her fingers lightly brushing the soft fabric of her dress as she reflected on the night. The Duke, with his cold glances and suppressed jealousy, had been a small price to pay to protect Seraphina. Even now, Ella could picture him, fuming quietly, though too proud to show it. His brooding expression whenever he saw the Crown Prince and Seraphina talking had been comical at times, but Ella knew it wasn't something she could take lightly. His jealousy was brewing, and it was bound to surface eventually. Still, that was a problem for another day.
For now, Ella allowed herself to bask in the small victory she had earned. She had managed to subtly maneuver the evening, stopping the Duke in his tracks before he could cause the damage she had dreaded. Seraphina had not only escaped her cruel fate, but had also caught the eye of the Crown Prince. It wasn't just Seraphina's future that seemed to be shifting—Ella had planted seeds that could very well grow into something beautiful, something entirely different from the tragic ending the novel had originally scripted.
As she made her way toward the exit, pausing just outside the ballroom, Ella took one last glance back inside. The lights shimmered, the music continued to play, and the nobles swirled around in their dances. She had altered the course of the story tonight, but in the back of her mind, she knew this wasn't the end.
"I've changed the course of the story tonight," Ella thought to herself, a quiet determination settling over her. "But what will tomorrow bring?"
Her steps echoed softly as she walked away from the ballroom, a mixture of satisfaction and uncertainty swirling in her chest. She had won this battle, but the war was far from over. The Duke's jealousy was a storm on the horizon, and she would have to be ready for whatever came next.
Still, for tonight, she had made a difference, and that was enough.
---
Hope you enjoy!!