The Holt mansion shimmered under the late-night glow of chandeliers, but beneath its polished beauty lay cracks only Elara could see.
Her lips curved faintly as she stood before the mirror in her temporary chamber. The banquet was over, but the whispers it had stirred would linger for weeks. Serena had been mocked in public for the very first time—and by none other than her "beloved sister."
It's not enough, Elara thought coldly, adjusting the pearl earrings on her ears. Not nearly enough.
Her reflection showed a woman serene and composed, but within her chest burned the embers of vengeance.
The betrayal still seared in her mind: Adrian's hands on Serena, the cruel laughter as they stole everything she owned, the hollow despair of realizing her entire life had been nothing but a stage for their amusement.
This life, however, was different.
This time, she would not play the fool.
"Miss White," a maid knocked lightly on her door. "Young Master Adrian requests your presence in the drawing room."
Elara smoothed her gown, hiding her thoughts. "Tell him I'll be down shortly."
The maid curtsied and left.
Elara's smile darkened as she turned. Serena would be there too, no doubt. She could almost imagine her sister's face—tight with restrained fury, eager to regain the upper hand.
Perfect.
The drawing room was warm with firelight when Elara entered. Adrian sat lazily on the leather sofa, a glass of whiskey in hand, while Serena perched beside him, her expression as sweet as honey, though her eyes glittered with venom when they landed on Elara.
"Darling," Adrian said smoothly, standing to take Elara's hand. "You were radiant tonight. The guests were charmed."
Elara allowed his hand to brush hers but offered no warmth in return. "It was nothing," she replied lightly, her gaze sliding toward Serena. "Though I fear my sister found it… less than charming."
Serena's jaw clenched. "You humiliated me in front of everyone," she hissed, barely containing herself.
Elara tilted her head, her smile angelic. "Did I? I only praised you, sister. Everyone knows how close you keep to me."
Adrian chuckled, oblivious to the undercurrent. "Enough, both of you. The engagement is the important thing. Tomorrow, the newspapers will have us on every page. The Holt name will rise even higher."
Elara lowered her lashes, feigning compliance. "As you wish."
But her heart whispered otherwise. Tomorrow will not belong to you, Adrian. Nor to Serena. It will belong to me.
The next morning, Elara's plan unfurled.
The Holt family butler oversaw the household finances, a meticulous man with little patience for disarray. In her last life, she had ignored him, too preoccupied with Adrian's affections to notice the household's subtle flows of money. But she remembered now—Serena had once stolen from the Holt accounts to buy herself expensive jewelry, nearly exposing the family to scandal.
Elara smiled coldly. This time, that very memory would become her weapon.
She arranged it carefully: a missing ledger, a planted receipt tucked into Serena's dressing table, whispers seeded among the staff. All it took was a gentle nudge, and the string began to unravel.
By noon, the butler stormed into the sitting room where Serena was lounging with tea.
"Miss Serena!" he barked, holding the damning receipt aloft. "How dare you authorize such an extravagant purchase under the Holt household funds?"
Serena's eyes went wide. "What? I—I never—"
Elara entered gracefully, as though drawn by the commotion. "What's the matter?" she asked innocently.
"This," the butler snapped, thrusting the paper forward. "A diamond necklace, charged to Master Holt's accounts. Signature: Serena White."
Gasps filled the room as servants exchanged looks. Serena leapt to her feet, shaking her head furiously. "That's a lie! I didn't—someone's framing me!"
Elara pressed a delicate hand to her lips. "Framing you? But, sister, why would anyone need to? You've always loved fine jewelry…" Her eyes glinted, her voice soft but carrying. "…so much that sometimes you forget whose money you're spending."
A ripple of snickers spread among the servants. The butler's frown deepened. "Such behavior is unacceptable. I'll have to report this to Master Adrian immediately."
"No! Wait!" Serena cried, her composure shattering. She turned desperately to Adrian, who had just entered, drawn by the noise. "Adrian, you must believe me! I didn't do it!"
Adrian's brow furrowed. "Serena… what's going on here?"
Elara stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "Perhaps it's a misunderstanding," she murmured sweetly. "But it would be wise to investigate, wouldn't it? For the family's sake."
Adrian hesitated, torn between Serena's pleading and Elara's calm reason. At last, he sighed. "Very well. The matter will be looked into."
Serena's face drained of color.
Elara lowered her eyes, hiding the triumphant gleam within them.
Checkmate, dear sister. The first crack in your perfect façade has begun.
That night, as the mansion fell silent, Elara slipped into the garden.
She should have felt satisfied. Her first strike had landed beautifully—Serena humiliated before the staff, Adrian's faith shaken.
And yet… her thoughts wandered elsewhere.
The man from the balcony. The one with storm-colored eyes.
"Curiosity is for men like me," he had said.
Her fingers brushed the stone railing as she peered into the shadows. "Are you watching again?" she whispered.
A rustle in the distance made her freeze.
Then, from the dark, a voice answered—low, amused, familiar.
"Always."
Elara's breath caught. She turned sharply, but there was only moonlight and silence.
Yet her heart beat faster, a strange warmth creeping beneath her cold resolve.
Who are you?
For the first time since her rebirth, she wondered not just about revenge, but about the possibility of something else. Something dangerous. Something she wasn't sure she could control.