Avery Frost stared at the reflection in the gilded mirror, her delicate fingers tightening around the string of pearls she had just clasped around her neck. Her mother's favorite heirloom—passed down through generations—now rested against her collarbone. But instead of feeling cherished, Avery felt like an imposter in her own skin.
The whispers behind her back had grown louder, more cutting, in the months since Evelyn Stone's disappearance. Her stepsister—Vivian Stone's shining star and the darling of high society—had vanished without a trace. In her absence, Avery had become the villain in everyone's eyes.
The knock at her door came sharp and deliberate. Avery took a moment to compose herself, smoothing the silk of her gown before calling out.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Ezra Johnson stepped inside. Even after months of sharing the same house, his presence still made her heart constrict. He was dressed impeccably, his sharp jawline set in a firm scowl. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto hers with a mix of disdain and exhaustion.
"It's time," he said curtly, his tone as cold as the frost that had settled over their relationship.
Avery nodded, swallowing the knot in her throat. This wasn't how she had imagined being with Ezra—not in this strained and bitter union forged by scandal and accusation. Once, years ago, she had harbored a girlish infatuation with him, captivated by his quiet confidence and rare kindness. But he hadn't recognized her then, and he certainly didn't now. To him, she was just a shadow—an opportunist who had taken her sister's place.
"Let's not keep them waiting," Avery said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.
Ezra offered her his arm, a gesture that felt more obligatory than genuine. She took it, their steps synchronized as they descended the grand staircase together. The murmurs from the gathered guests below reached her ears—low, venomous whispers that she had grown adept at ignoring.
"She's shameless, isn't she?"
"I heard she was the one who made Evelyn disappear."
"Ezra only married her to save face. Poor man."
Avery's grip tightened on Ezra's arm, but his expression didn't waver. If the rumors bothered him, he gave no indication. If anything, he seemed indifferent to the weight of the scandal they carried as a couple.
At the base of the staircase, Vivian Stone stood waiting, her sharp gaze cutting straight through Avery. Her mother—her real mother—yet Avery often felt like little more than a stranger in her presence.
"You're late," Vivian hissed under her breath, her lips barely moving.
Avery met her gaze with quiet defiance. She had learned not to flinch under her mother's scrutiny. "It won't happen again," she replied evenly, her voice devoid of emotion.
Vivian's cold stare lingered on her for a moment longer before she turned away, her elegant figure gliding into the crowd with practiced grace. Avery followed suit, her heart aching with the sharp reminder that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be Evelyn in her mother's eyes.
The evening passed in a blur of forced smiles and rehearsed pleasantries. Ezra disappeared the moment their formal duties were complete, leaving Avery to navigate the sea of judgmental stares alone.
By the time the final guest had departed, Avery felt hollow—like a puppet whose strings had been cut. As she ascended the grand staircase, her heels clicking softly against the marble, she heard Ezra's voice faintly drifting from his study.
She paused, her hand resting on the banister, straining to hear his words.
"Evelyn," he murmured, her sister's name slipping from his lips like a prayer.
The world tilted slightly beneath Avery's feet. Her sister's shadow was still here, looming over everything, refusing to let her go.
And now, it felt as though that shadow was preparing to return.