The moon was high in the sky, casting an eerie glow on the cobbled streets of the estate as Avery—now inhabiting the body of Lady Celeste—crept through the corridors of her family's manor. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder that this wasn't just another plot twist in the fantasy world she had created. This was real. Every decision she made now could change her fate, and that terrified her.
She had made up her mind. There was no way she was going to sit back and let the world mold her into the cruel villainess she had written Celeste to be. The prince's sudden affection, her sister's bitter gaze, and her mother's pressure weighed on her, but she wouldn't let that stop her. She had to escape this nightmare.
Dressed in a dark cloak to conceal her vibrant red hair, she clutched the satchel she had hastily packed and tiptoed down the main staircase. Her eyes darted around, searching for any sign of guards or servants who might see her. The manor was vast, but Avery knew the layout well. She had written every detail of the Duvernay estate herself. Now, those details were her guide to freedom.
The cool night air hit her as she slipped through the side gate, the one the maids used to run errands into town. She took a deep breath, relief flooding her for a brief moment. She was outside. Free. She glanced back at the looming manor, its towering spires casting long shadows in the moonlight. For the first time since she woke up in this world, she felt in control.
But that control slipped away the moment she reached the winding alley leading out of the estate grounds. From the shadows, a group of hooded men emerged, their leering eyes locking onto her. They looked like nothing more than low-life thieves, the type who took advantage of the night to rob the wealthy.
Avery froze. No, not now.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one of the men sneered, stepping forward. His eyes roamed over her, landing on the expensive fabric of her cloak and the gold embroidery peeking out from beneath it. "Looks like we've found ourselves a little rich girl."
Panic seized Avery's chest. She clutched her satchel tighter, backing away slowly. "Stay back," she warned, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound firm.
The men laughed, advancing toward her. One of them pulled out a rusty knife, twirling it between his fingers. "You're not going anywhere, sweetheart. Hand over your valuables, and we might let you go."
Their approach, their laughter—it triggered something deep inside her. Memories of the night she died in her own world flashed through her mind. Kenny's face. His betrayal. The brutal beating. The sound of the gunshot. Her best friend's cold words as he shot her to death out of jealousy.
Her breathing grew erratic, her vision blurring as the memory overwhelmed her. Not again, she thought, her hands shaking uncontrollably. Her body locked up, and it felt like she couldn't breathe. The world around her spun, her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground.
"A seizure?" one of the men muttered, confused by her sudden reaction. He knelt beside her, reaching out to grab her. "She's an easy target—"
Before he could finish, a swift blur of movement cut through the darkness. A sword gleamed in the moonlight, and the man's hand was knocked away before he could touch her. The sound of clashing steel filled the air, and within moments, the would-be thieves were disarmed and scattered, fleeing into the night.
Avery, still trembling and dazed, managed to glance up. Her vision was hazy, but she saw a figure standing over her, a masked man with a sword in his hand. His presence was commanding, and for a brief second, Avery thought she had written this scene herself. A mysterious savior. Her chest heaved as she tried to regain control of her breath, her mind still reeling from the attack and the vivid flashbacks of her death.
The masked man knelt beside her, his voice low and soothing. "It's alright. They're gone now."
Avery nodded weakly, her muscles still stiff from the panic that had overtaken her. She tried to speak but could only manage a hoarse whisper. "Thank you…"
He gently helped her to her feet, and Avery leaned on him for support as he led her to a nearby bench in a quiet corner of the estate gardens. Once they were out of immediate danger, the man knelt in front of her, his hand resting on her shoulder as if to steady her.
"Why did you run away from me?"
Avery's breath caught in her throat. That voice—it was familiar. She looked up, her heart pounding, her eyes narrowing as her mind pieced it together. With shaking hands, she reached up and pulled the mask from his face.
Prince Adrian's sharp features were illuminated in the soft glow of the moonlight. His expression was unreadable, but his intense gaze bore into her, searching for answers.
Avery gasped, taking a step back. "Prince Adrian…" she stammered. "I—"
"You ran," he interrupted softly, his voice calm but filled with an undercurrent of emotion she hadn't expected. "You rejected me and fled. Why?"
Avery looked into his eyes, her mind racing. The prince, the very same character she had written to be cold, calculating, and utterly uninterested in Celeste, was now standing before her, asking why she had run away from him. Her thoughts were in chaos. None of this made sense. How could he feel this way about her? Celeste was never meant to be his choice. It was supposed to be Evelisse.
"I—I didn't know what else to do," Avery finally admitted, her voice shaky. "Everything is… wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to…"
Adrian's eyes softened, and for the first time, she saw something in him she hadn't expected—concern. "Whatever is troubling you," he said, stepping closer, his voice barely above a whisper, "I hope you find peace. But you must know one thing: this marriage will happen. It's what's best for both of our families."
Avery's throat went dry. She wanted to argue, to tell him she couldn't go through with it, but the words wouldn't come. There was no escape. She had seen it in her mother's eyes, in Evelisse's resentment, and now in Adrian's determination. No matter how far she ran, no matter what she said, the marriage was inevitable.
She lowered her gaze, defeated. "I understand," she whispered.
Adrian studied her for a moment longer before giving a small nod. "I'll make arrangements to have you brought back to the manor safely. You shouldn't be wandering out here alone."
As he turned to leave, Avery felt a deep pit form in her stomach. This was her life now. She was Lady Celeste, and there was no escaping that fact. But she wasn't going to let the story end the way she had written it. No, this was her second chance, and she would rewrite her fate.
With a renewed sense of determination, she stood tall and looked at Adrian's retreating figure. This was her story now. And if she was going to live in it, she would make sure it unfolded on her terms. From this moment on, she was Celeste Duvernay.
She took a deep breath. "Fine," she whispered to herself. "If this is my new life, then I'll rewrite it."
This wasn't just the story of a villainess doomed to a tragic end. It was her story, and she would be the one to decide how it was told.