Lucian Everhart awoke with a start, his breath shallow, his heart pounding. The heavy drapes of his grand chamber allowed only slivers of morning light to creep in, illuminating the lavish yet cold space he had called home for years. He ran a hand through his silvery-white hair, his fingers trembling as fragmented memories invaded his mind.
He had died.
Not in this world, but in another—a distant, modern existence where he had lived an ordinary life. And now, as the haze of confusion lifted, he realized with chilling certainty that he had been reborn into the body of the infamous Duke Lucian Everhart, the villain of a tragic novel.
The knowledge settled over him like a suffocating weight. He knew how this story ended.
Betrayed, executed, his name forever cursed in history. And worst of all—his demise was sealed by none other than his own wife, the delicate and unassuming Duchess Evelyn Everhart.
His wife.
Lucian exhaled sharply, pushing himself up from the bed. His movements felt foreign, his body stronger, taller than he remembered. He glanced at his reflection in the gilded mirror across the room—sharp crimson eyes, an aristocratic jawline, and an expression of perpetual coldness.
The villain. The ruthless duke. A man destined for a tragic end.
He clenched his fists. No. He would not follow that path. If he had a second chance, he would change his fate.
And there was only one way to do that.
He needed a divorce.
The grand dining hall was eerily silent when Lucian entered. The long oak table, adorned with silverware and untouched plates of breakfast, stretched between him and the woman seated at the far end.
Evelyn Everhart.
His wife.
She looked as she always did—delicate, like porcelain, her light brown hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Her eyes, the color of a clear morning sky, barely lifted as he took his seat. She was an enigma to him, a woman who barely spoke, who drifted like a ghost within his estate.
In his past life, he had ignored her. He had treated her with the same coldness as the character he had been written to be. But now, knowing the future, he realized his indifference had only sealed his doom.
He needed to end this marriage before history repeated itself.
"Evelyn," he spoke, his voice firm but devoid of cruelty.
She stilled, the teacup in her hand pausing just before her lips. Slowly, she looked at him, her expression unreadable.
"Yes, Your Grace?"
Lucian exhaled, measuring his words. "I believe it is time we end this farce. I want a divorce."
Silence. A tense, suffocating silence that stretched between them.
Evelyn did not react as he had expected. No gasp of horror, no outburst of emotion. Instead, she placed her teacup down with an eerie calmness and folded her hands in her lap. Her gaze remained locked onto him, sharp and assessing.
"I see," she finally said, her voice quiet yet steady. "May I ask why?"
Lucian hesitated. Because I don't want to die? Because you'll betray me? Because I know how this story ends?
None of those answers would suffice.
"This marriage has been nothing but a political arrangement," he said instead. "You deserve better. And so do I."
Evelyn tilted her head, considering his words. "You are right," she said, surprising him. "This marriage has never been one of love. If you desire a divorce, I will not oppose you."
Lucian's breath hitched. He had expected resistance. Anger. Perhaps even tears. But she was... agreeing?
Relief should have flooded him. Instead, an unsettling unease coiled in his chest.
"Very well," she continued, rising gracefully from her chair. "I shall make the necessary preparations. But tell me, Your Grace..."
She stepped closer, and for the first time in years, he truly looked at her. Not as the quiet, forgettable wife he had ignored, but as something else. Something he had never noticed before.
There was steel beneath her soft demeanor. A quiet strength in the way she carried herself.
She leaned in ever so slightly, her voice a whisper against the cold air between them.
"Are you certain you wish to let me go?"
Lucian's heart pounded.
And in that moment, he realized something chilling.
He had gravely underestimated his wife.
End of Chapter 1.