I sat in front of the vanity, staring at my reflection.
Elara Valcrest.
The delicate noble girl whose face now belonged to me.
The weight of my new reality settled like a vice around my chest. This wasn't some second chance at life—it was a trap. A cruel joke played by fate. I was no longer the feared villain. No longer the shadow that ruled the kingdom from behind the throne. I was powerless.
But I had been powerless before. And I had conquered everything.
A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. "My lady, may I come in?"
I recognized the voice—gentle, hesitant. The maid from earlier. The one who had spoken of my engagement to Cairon Everhart. My murderer.
I schooled my expression before answering, "Enter."
The door creaked open, and the young woman stepped inside, bowing deeply. "My lady, your father requests your presence in the drawing room. He wishes to discuss the engagement."
I rose, smoothing out the fabric of my nightgown. Time to see the man who sold his daughter like cattle.
The drawing room was lavish, with gold-lined walls and paintings of ancestors I didn't care to know. A fire crackled in the marble hearth, casting flickering shadows across the space. Lord Valcrest sat in a high-backed chair, swirling a glass of wine. His sharp gaze lifted to me as I entered, assessing, calculating.
"You look well, daughter."
Daughter. The word tasted foreign. I forced a polite smile. "I assume this is about Lord Everhart."
His lips curled slightly. "A smart girl."
No. A dead girl.
"Your engagement is a great honor," he continued, voice smooth with false warmth. "Cairon Everhart is a rising power. Aligning our house with him will bring us prosperity."
I tilted my head, letting the silence stretch. The old me would have lashed out, threatened him, made him cower. But I wasn't the villain anymore.
So instead, I smiled. The kind of smile that made men uneasy.
"Of course, Father," I said sweetly. "What kind of daughter would I be to refuse?"
His brows lifted, as if surprised by my easy agreement. He had expected resistance. Elara Valcrest was supposed to be timid, reluctant.
He had no idea that I was already planning his downfall.
Hours later, I was seated in the grand hall, the room filled with murmurs of noble gossip. Then the doors opened.
A hush fell.
Cairon Everhart strode inside, dressed in dark military attire. The silver detailing on his coat caught the candlelight, but it was his expression that held me captive. Cold. Calculated. As if nothing in the room truly mattered to him.
Until his eyes met mine.
Something flickered there—something unreadable.
Did he recognize me?
No. Impossible. He had killed me.
I rose, keeping my expression carefully neutral. I was no longer the villain he had executed. I was the woman he was about to marry.
I dipped into a curtsy. "Lord Everhart."
A beat of silence. Then, he inclined his head slightly.
"My lady."
The game had begun.