The dining hall of the Argent estate was a masterpiece of grandeur and intimidation. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their light scattering over a polished table long enough to seat twenty guests comfortably. This morning, however, only six places were set, each with the precision of a military operation.
Lila's heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she entered the room, head held high despite the anxiety threatening to choke her. Her heart raced with every step. The characters she knew only from the novel were here, alive and breathing, and she was about to face them.
"Lila," called a familiar voice—smooth, low, and warm.
She turned, her gaze landing on Callum Argent, her eldest brother. His striking features—jet-black hair, piercing green eyes, and a sharp jawline—were marred by a faint look of concern. In the novel, he had been distant, a figure who rarely spoke more than a handful of words to his younger sister. Yet here he was, his expression softening as he set his tea aside.
"You're late," he said, though his tone was far from reprimanding.
Adrian Argent, the middle sibling, scoffed from his seat across the table. His blond hair gleamed under the morning light, and his blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. "Don't tease her, Callum. She's probably tired from all the boring noble nonsense yesterday."
The brothers' words weren't sharp. They weren't cold. Lila blinked, caught off guard. Was this the same family who had turned their backs on her?
"I'm fine," she said, keeping her voice steady. Act natural. Don't let them suspect anything. She eased into her seat, straightening the napkin on her lap.
The duchess cleared her throat from the head of the table. Lady Evelyn Argent was as poised as ever, her graying hair swept into an elegant chignon, her gaze imperious. Beside her sat Duke Lionel Argent, who exuded an air of quiet authority.
Both parents regarded Lila with mild disinterest, their attention soon shifting to Aria, the newest member of their household.
"Aria," Evelyn said, her tone softening. "Did you sleep well on your first night?"
Seated to Lila's left, the girl in question smiled demurely. Aria Argent—no, Aria the adopted sister—was as beautiful as the novel described her. Her doe-like brown eyes shimmered with innocence, her wavy auburn hair framing her delicate features.
"Yes, Mother," Aria said, her voice a melodious blend of shyness and charm. "Thank you for your kindness."
It was the same act Lila remembered from the book, the perfect façade that endeared her to everyone. But Lila wasn't the same Lila. This time, she wasn't about to let herself be outshined.
"I hope your room was comfortable," Lila said suddenly, her voice cutting through the conversation. All eyes turned to her. She forced a smile, feigning the same warmth that Aria projected. "If you need anything, please let me know."
Aria blinked, startled. This wasn't the sharp-tongued villainess she had expected. "Thank you, sister," she replied cautiously.
Callum's gaze lingered on Lila, his brow furrowing slightly, but he said nothing. Adrian, on the other hand, chuckled.
"Look at you, playing the perfect hostess," he teased, leaning back in his chair.
The tension in the room dissipated with his remark, and the servants began bringing in trays of food.
As breakfast progressed, Lila remained acutely aware of every movement, every word. This was her first real chance to gauge the dynamics of the household.
Aria was careful to speak only when addressed, playing the role of the timid new addition. Callum and Adrian were surprisingly cordial, though Lila couldn't help but notice Callum's calculating glances. Meanwhile, her parents largely ignored her presence, as they always had.
Lila clenched her fork. She had three years to change her fate, and it started now. The first step was to secure her position within the family. If she could win over her brothers, perhaps even her parents, she would stand a better chance of surviving.
In the privacy of her room, Lila stood before her vanity, staring at the girl reflected in the mirror. Her appearance was stunning, even by noble standards. Long raven-black hair framed a pale, heart-shaped face, and her violet eyes held a piercing intensity. She had always hated the descriptions of Lila Argent in the novel, painted as beautiful but cruel, her allure wasted on her spiteful personality.
No more, she thought, gripping the edge of the vanity. I won't let this face be a symbol of hatred. If I have to be the perfect daughter, sister, and fiancée, then so be it.
Later that afternoon, Lila wandered into the estate's sprawling garden, seeking a moment of reprieve. The crisp scent of blooming roses mingled with the distant hum of cicadas. She clutched a parasol to shield her from the sun, walking the familiar cobblestone paths with careful steps.
She stopped when she noticed Aria, seated on a marble bench near the fountain. The girl's usual timid demeanor was replaced with something darker—a secretive glint in her eyes as she whispered to a servant. The servant, a young man with an unfamiliar face, nodded swiftly before scurrying off, disappearing into the hedge maze.
Curiosity prickled at Lila's skin. Aria had always been adept at painting herself as innocent, but Lila now knew better. She approached quietly, her heels muffled by the soft grass, and caught the end of Aria's murmured words.
"…make sure no one finds out. Not even her."
"Aria," Lila called out, her voice light but firm.
The girl startled, her head snapping up. Her wide eyes brimmed with feigned innocence as she stood. "Sister! You startled me."
"What were you talking about just now?" Lila asked, tilting her head.
"Just asking a servant for assistance," Aria replied sweetly. "Nothing of importance."
Lila stepped closer, her gaze unrelenting. "Is that so? Because you seemed awfully serious."
For a fraction of a second, Aria's smile faltered. Then, like clockwork, she placed a hand on Lila's arm and sighed. "You're so protective, sister. It's touching, really."
Lila bit back a retort, her suspicions growing. Whatever Aria was plotting, she would have to uncover it quickly. The girl's sweet façade would be her undoing.
As Aria turned to leave, Lila stayed rooted in place, the fountain's gentle splashing unable to drown out the unease growing in her chest.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Come in," she called, smoothing her dress.
The door creaked open, and Adrian leaned against the frame, his usual smirk in place. "Planning your next scheme, little sister?"
Lila rolled her eyes, but her heart raced. "What do you want, Adrian?"
He strolled in, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. "You've been acting strange. Playing nice with Aria, smiling at breakfast. What's your angle?"
His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp, and Lila realized she couldn't afford to let her guard down. "No angle," she said, her voice calm. "Maybe I've just decided to stop being the villain of the family."
Adrian's brow lifted. "The villain, huh? I didn't know you saw yourself that way."
Lila faltered. Careful, she reminded herself. "I'm trying to turn over a new leaf," she said instead.
For a moment, Adrian said nothing. Then, to her surprise, he laughed—a genuine, hearty laugh that made her heart twist.
"Well, good luck with that," he said, ruffling her hair before leaving.
Lila stood frozen, her pulse thrumming in her ears. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
That evening, Lila retreated to her chambers after another strained family dinner. The warmth her brothers had shown earlier felt like a distant memory in the cold silence of her room. She lit a small lantern, its flickering light casting eerie shadows on the walls.
On her desk lay a folded piece of parchment—one she hadn't placed there.
Frowning, she unfolded it, her heart sinking as she read the contents:
"To the one who plays with fate,
You may have returned, but your place is fragile. Watch your back. Not everyone welcomes second chances."
Her breath hitched. The handwriting was unfamiliar, the ink smudged as if written in haste. Who could have left such a message? Was it someone in the household? Or was there a greater force at work, aware of her knowledge of the novel's events?
Lila clenched the note, her mind racing. This wasn't in the book. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was no longer simply fighting to change her fate—she was being watched.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She quickly hid the letter beneath her desk blotter.
"Who is it?" she called, her voice steadier than she felt.
The door creaked open, revealing Callum. His green eyes were sharp, scanning her expression. "Lila, is everything all right?"
Lila forced a smile. "Of course, brother. Just… preparing for tomorrow."
He lingered in the doorway for a moment, as if weighing her answer. Then, with a nod, he left.
As the door clicked shut, Lila released a shaky breath. The letter felt heavier in her hands. Whoever had sent it, they were warning her—or threatening her. Either way, she couldn't afford to falter now.