The sun was setting behind the large windows of the room, casting a golden glow on the walls. Elyse de Vernemont sat at her desk, surrounded by a chaotic mix of journals, letters, and documents she had found in the drawers. Each page she read formed a puzzle of a life that wasn't hers.
"Elyse de Vernemont… A bastard."
The title came up again and again, like a brand that had been stamped on her forever. Her status as the illegitimate daughter of Duke Reynard de Vernemont condemned her to a life of shadows and contempt. Her father ignored her, her brothers despised her, and the servants barely showed her any respect, just a façade of it. This luxurious room, though vast and opulent, was nothing more than a gilded cage where she had been relegated.
"Why so much hatred? Why keep me here if I mean nothing to them?" she murmured, closing a journal.
She suddenly remembered what she had read in the novel: Elyse was jealous, envious, and cruel toward her adoptive sister, Claris. But as she delved deeper into the words and memories of Elyse, the truth began to take shape: it wasn't cruelty. It was a cry of despair. A young girl, rejected by her family and society, had acted out of frustration, hoping that one day someone would notice her pain.
Elyse closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. If she followed the path laid out by the novel, it would all end in a bloodbath, with her alone on the scaffold. But she was no longer that Elyse.
"I refuse that ending."
The sudden creak of the door interrupted her thoughts. A maid entered without knocking, holding a pale blue dress carefully folded.
"Your father summons you to the courtroom," the maid announced, her tone sharp, almost disdainful.
Elyse raised an eyebrow, watching the maid. The contempt in her voice was obvious. It wasn't just her status as a bastard; even the servants took liberties they would never dare with her brothers or Claris.
She took a deep breath. This behavior was nothing more than an echo of the reputation the former Elyse had built. A reputation she would have to break.
"Very well. Leave the room, I will prepare," she said calmly, in a firm tone.
The maid hesitated for a moment, surprised by the composed and confident response, before giving a slight bow and leaving the room.
Elyse stood up, her fingers brushing the delicate fabric of the dress laid out on her bed. It was just a detail, but for the first time, she felt a tension she had never known. A summons from her father. Why now?
In the courtroom, the atmosphere was icy. Duke Reynard de Vernemont, a man with an imposing presence and a piercing gaze, was seated in a large carved wooden chair. His salt-and-pepper hair was impeccably groomed, and his clothes reflected his stature as the powerful head of the family.
Elyse stepped forward, her back straight, though her heart raced wildly.
"You're late," the Duke declared without looking up from the papers he was examining.
She bowed slightly, careful to measure her words.
"My apologies, Father."
A heavy silence followed. He finally put down his papers and sized her up, as though evaluating something.
"An invitation to the next imperial ball has arrived. You will attend," he said coldly.
The imperial ball. Elyse remembered this event from the novel: the moment when Claris made her triumphant entry into high society, completely overshadowing Elyse.
"Father... should I understand that you expect something from me?" she asked cautiously.
The Duke slightly furrowed his brow, surprised by her measured tone.
"I expect nothing from you. Just make sure you don't tarnish the name of Vernemont any further."
These words struck Elyse like a cold blade. But she did not flinch. Instead of reacting with anger, as the former Elyse would have, she answered calmly:
"Of course, Father. I will not disappoint you."
His eyes narrowed, as though trying to understand this change in attitude. But he said nothing more and gestured for her to leave.
---
Back in her room, Elyse felt a quiet anger rising within her. She placed her hands on the dresser, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
"He doesn't expect me at the ball to elevate me. He's sending me there to make me fail."
But this time, she wasn't going to give him that pleasure. If Duke Reynard wanted her to remain a shame, she would prove him wrong.
This ball would be her first opportunity. She would enter as a despised bastard… and leave as a woman no one could ignore.
"I don't need their validation. If I'm going to shine, it will be by my own light."