The days following the ball passed in a blur, each moment blending into the next like the fleeting notes of a song she couldn't quite catch. Anastasia found herself caught between the weight of the changes around her and the ever-growing suspicion that something was terribly wrong. Though her family's behavior had shifted to something more affectionate, the unease in her heart remained, gnawing at her with each passing hour.
By the morning of the third day, the shift in dynamics was undeniable. Her brothers—Lucian, the distant one; Alexander, the charming one; and even Cedric, her supposed fiancé—had all grown increasingly attentive. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and they now saw her not as an obstacle, but as someone they were genuinely concerned for. The polite, superficial conversations had given way to moments of tenderness, and it was starting to unsettle her. She had been given nothing more than a glimpse of the script that had been altered, but the plotlines were still a mystery.
Sitting by the window, Anastasia's fingers grazed the edge of a parchment she had been toying with all morning. It was a letter from her father, Lord Valemont, a man who had been a shadow in her life—a figure she had never truly known. It was strange, but now that he was gone, she found herself searching for any piece of him she could find. The letter had been written years ago, and though she'd seen it once before, it never held much weight. This time, however, it felt different. She couldn't shake the feeling that something in the letter might offer answers. But she couldn't decipher its meaning yet.
Her reverie was broken by a gentle knock on the door.
"Come in," she called, her voice carrying across the stillness of the room.
The door creaked open, and there stood Lucian, looking more like his mother than ever. His sharp features, framed by the silvery sheen of his hair, glowed in the light streaming through the window. There was a quiet strength to him now that hadn't been present before, as though the coldness that had once defined him had been chipped away, piece by piece.
"Lady Valemont," he began, his voice carefully neutral, "I wanted to check if you were feeling well. You seemed distant last evening."
Anastasia tilted her head slightly, studying him. The expression on his face was no longer the detached one she remembered, nor was it the aloof indifference of the character in the book. Instead, he looked… human. Concerned. It felt almost too real.
"I'm fine, Lucian," she replied, offering a thin smile. "Just… tired. It's been a lot to take in."
Lucian nodded slowly, his piercing blue eyes studying her with a depth that made her feel as though he could see through her.
"If you ever need to talk, I'm here," he said simply, before turning to leave.
As the door closed behind him, Anastasia's gaze shifted back to the letter. She had to admit that she didn't know how to process everything—her family's new affection, Cedric's sudden shift in attitude, and the strange sense of betrayal that lingered in the air. It felt as though the world around her had been turned upside down, and she was scrambling to make sense of it all.
Why are they acting like this? she thought, frustration bubbling to the surface.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened again, this time with much more force.
"Anastasia," Alexander's voice rang out, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of something unspoken. "There you are. We need to talk."
The door shut behind him with a soft thud, and for the first time in a long while, she found herself facing her eldest brother without the usual walls between them. His emerald eyes glinted, but this time, the warmth in them was unmistakable. He was no longer the detached sibling who barely acknowledged her existence. This Alexander was different—more like a friend, a confidant.
Anastasia raised an eyebrow, curious. "What is it, Alexander?"
He hesitated for a moment, crossing the room to stand beside her. He didn't sit, as though his presence alone was enough to compel her attention.
"You've been acting strange lately," he said, his tone gentle but probing. "Is everything really alright? You seem… distant."
A surge of emotion welled up inside her. Anastasia had always been the one to keep her distance, not trusting anyone to see the truth hidden behind her mask. But now, here was Alexander—someone she had never trusted—asking after her well-being as if they were close, as if he cared. The honesty in his eyes made her want to tear the walls down, to explain everything, but she couldn't.
"I'm just… adjusting," she replied, her voice quiet. "There are a lot of changes, and I'm not sure how to handle it all."
Alexander's lips quirked upward, but his expression remained serious.
"You're not alone in this, Anastasia," he said, his voice low. "We're family, remember? We'll face this together."
Anastasia swallowed hard. This was not the Alexander she remembered—the one who had been dismissive of her, if not outright cruel. But now he spoke with an openness that felt almost too good to be true. Her heart hammered in her chest. Was this sincerity, or was it just another game, another ploy to manipulate her?
Before she could respond, there was another knock at the door.
"Lady Valemont, may I come in?" The voice belonged to Cedric.
Anastasia's heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. Despite everything, a strange, fluttering feeling tugged at her chest. In the book, Cedric had been distant and uninterested in her, obsessed instead with Elena. But now… Now, the warmth in his gaze when they spoke, the way his attention never seemed to waver from her—it was unnerving.
"Of course, Cedric," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside.
The door opened fully, and there stood Cedric, looking every bit the prince he was meant to be. His tall, broad frame filled the doorway, and his presence seemed to command the room in an almost magnetic way. The sleek black of his formal attire contrasted sharply with the gold of the room, highlighting his striking features—sharp jawline, raven-black hair, and those piercing gray eyes that seemed to pierce straight through her.
"Lady Valemont," he said, his voice smooth and warm. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
Anastasia fought to keep her emotions in check, not wanting to give away how conflicted she felt.
"No, not at all," she replied, her voice steady. "What is it, Cedric?"
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "I wanted to speak to you. Alone," he added, his eyes shifting to Alexander.
Alexander stood up, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "I think I'll leave you two to your private conversation," he said, his tone teasing but knowing. "Don't take too long, Cedric."
Before Anastasia could protest, Alexander had already left the room, leaving her alone with Cedric. She could feel the air shift as he took a step closer to her, his gaze intense.
"I've been thinking a lot about you," Cedric began, his voice low. "About everything. About… us."
Anastasia's breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering as she tried to maintain control. "Cedric, what are you talking about?"
He paused for a moment, clearly contemplating his words. "I know things haven't been easy, but I've seen something in you, Anastasia. Something I can't ignore."
Her pulse quickened, a knot forming in her stomach. This was the last thing she expected to hear from him—the last thing she wanted to hear.
"Cedric," she said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty, "you've barely noticed me until recently. What's changed?"
He stepped closer still, his presence overwhelming, as if he were trying to close the distance between them. "Everything's changed, Anastasia," he said, his voice so earnest it almost took her breath away. "I see you now. I see the real you."
Anastasia opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She didn't know how to respond to this new version of Cedric. Could she trust him? Could she trust any of them?
Before she could process her thoughts any further, Cedric reached out and gently took her hand in his. His touch sent a shock of warmth through her, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away.
"We'll figure this out together," he said softly, his eyes locked on hers. "I promise."
Anastasia didn't know whether to believe him. All she knew was that everything she thought she understood about this world, about the people in it, had been shattered. And now, she was left to pick up the pieces—carefully, cautiously, and with a heart full of questions.