The early morning sun streamed through the tall arched windows, casting a golden hue over the polished marble floors of the castle. Anastasia, now firmly rooted in her role as Lady Valemont, sat at the breakfast table, her hands clasped tightly around a porcelain cup of tea. The liquid rippled slightly, betraying the tremor in her fingers.
The adoption ceremony for the supposed "sister," Elena, had gone off without a hitch the day before. Yet, the event had left a bitter taste in Anastasia's mouth. The memory of her previous life and the fire that had consumed her in that dark room lingered like a phantom. She'd been wary of every glance, every word exchanged between her family members and Elena. The kindness she had observed wasn't supposed to be part of the script. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
"Lady Valemont," a voice interrupted her thoughts. It was her youngest brother, Lucian, his silvery hair glinting in the sunlight as he approached her seat. "You haven't touched your food. Are you feeling unwell?"
Anastasia blinked, startled by the concern in his tone. Lucian had been one of the most indifferent characters in the book, aloof and detached from his sister's plight. Now, his pale blue eyes seemed genuinely troubled, his brow furrowed in worry.
"I… I'm fine," she replied, forcing a small smile. "Just lost in thought."
Lucian didn't look convinced but chose not to press further. Instead, he reached for a piece of toast and began spreading marmalade on it with meticulous precision.
"If anything's bothering you," he said after a pause, "you can always talk to me."
Anastasia stared at him, stunned. Since when had Lucian, the cold and distant youngest brother, ever cared for her well-being?
"Thank you, Lucian," she murmured. "I'll keep that in mind."
As he left the room, Anastasia's thoughts spiraled further. This wasn't just a deviation from the novel—it was a complete upheaval. Her brothers had barely acknowledged her existence before. Now, even the usually stoic Lucian was acting like a doting sibling.
And then there was Cedric.
The mere thought of her supposed fiancé sent a shiver down her spine. In the book, he had been the epitome of a cold, unfaithful prince. His obsession with Elena had been one of the reasons for Valemont's downfall. Yet, yesterday, he had spent the entirety of the adoption ceremony by her side, murmuring polite pleasantries and even defending her honor when one of the noble ladies had made a snide remark about her dress.
"Is he playing some kind of game?" Anastasia muttered to herself, setting her teacup down with a clink.
"Talking to yourself now, dear sister?" a teasing voice said.
She looked up to see Alexander, her eldest brother, leaning casually against the doorway. His emerald eyes sparkled with amusement, but his tone held an undercurrent of fondness that hadn't been there in the original story.
"Just… reflecting," Anastasia said carefully.
Alexander pushed off the doorframe and strolled over to her, ruffling her hair in a way that made her scowl.
"You've been doing a lot of that lately," he remarked, taking a seat across from her. "You're not worried about the new addition to the family, are you?"
Her heart skipped a beat. Was this a trap? Did he suspect something?
"Of course not," she said, forcing a light laugh. "Elena seems sweet."
Alexander's gaze lingered on her for a moment too long, as if he were trying to read her mind. Then, to her surprise, he reached out and took her hand in his.
"You're our sister, Anastasia. No one—not even Elena—will change that."
Anastasia's throat tightened. This was not the Alexander she remembered from the book. That Alexander had been distant, almost cruel, siding with Elena at every turn. This Alexander… this Alexander felt like family.
"Thank you, Alexander," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before standing up. "Now, eat your breakfast. You'll need your strength for the ball tonight."
"The ball?"
Alexander grinned. "Don't tell me you forgot. It's being held in your honor, after all."
Anastasia's mind reeled. A ball in her honor? That had never happened in the book. What was going on?
As Alexander left, humming a cheerful tune, Anastasia stared down at her untouched plate. The pieces of the puzzle were shifting, rearranging themselves into a picture she couldn't yet comprehend.
The evening arrived faster than Anastasia had anticipated. Her reflection in the grand mirror left her momentarily speechless. The dress was a masterpiece—a flowing cascade of sapphire silk, embroidered with threads of silver that caught the light with every movement. Her dark hair was swept into an elegant updo, adorned with delicate crystal pins that sparkled like stars. Yet, despite the outward transformation, she couldn't shake the gnawing unease in her chest.
"You look stunning," Elena's soft voice came from the doorway. Anastasia turned to find her "sister" dressed in a simpler gown of pale lavender, her expression as serene as ever.
"Thank you," Anastasia replied, her tone cautious. "So do you."
Elena stepped closer, her gaze searching Anastasia's face. "Are you nervous?"
"A little," Anastasia admitted. It wasn't entirely a lie.
Elena's lips curved into a gentle smile. "Don't be. Tonight is your night."
The sincerity in her voice was unsettling. Anastasia couldn't tell if Elena was being genuine or if there was something more calculated behind her words. Before she could dwell on it further, a servant arrived to escort them to the ballroom.
The grand hall was a vision of opulence. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in warm light, casting a golden glow over the sea of noble guests. As Anastasia descended the marble staircase, all eyes turned to her. She could feel the weight of their gazes, the whispers that followed her every step.
At the foot of the stairs stood Cedric, resplendent in his formal attire. His piercing gray eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. He extended a hand to her, a small, almost imperceptible smile gracing his lips.
"You look breathtaking," he said softly as she placed her hand in his.
"Thank you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
They moved to the center of the ballroom, where the first dance was to take place. As the music swelled, Cedric led her into a graceful waltz. His touch was light yet firm, his movements precise. Anastasia's heart raced, not from the dance but from the confusion that churned within her.
This wasn't the Cedric she knew from the book. The cold, distant prince who had barely acknowledged her existence was now looking at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. What was his game?
"You seem distracted," Cedric murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
"It's been a long day," she said evasively.
His eyes searched hers, as if he could see through her façade. "If there's something troubling you, you can tell me."
The sincerity in his tone unnerved her. Was it possible that he… cared?
As the dance ended, Cedric led her off the floor, his hand lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary. Before she could say anything, Alexander appeared at her side, a glass of champagne in hand.
"Enjoying yourself, little sister?" he asked, his grin mischievous.
"As much as one can," she replied, her tone wry.
Alexander chuckled. "Good. You deserve this."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations and polite smiles. Yet, throughout it all, Anastasia couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She caught glimpses of Elena across the room, her serene expression never wavering. And then there was Cedric, whose gaze seemed to find hers no matter where she was.
By the time the ball ended, Anastasia's mind was a whirlwind of questions. The pieces of this new world were falling into place, but the picture they formed was far from clear. One thing was certain: the rules of the story had changed, and she would have to navigate this uncharted territory carefully.
As she lay in bed that night, the events of the day replaying in her mind, Anastasia made a silent vow. She would uncover the truth behind these changes—and, if possible, rewrite her fate.