Marissa took a deliberate step backwards, creating a clear space between them on the staircase. The small, milky-white vial in her hand was the only bridge between them now.
Derek's eyes, dark and intense, were fixed on her veiled face. The fury in them was now mixed with a grudging respect. "I accept your terms," he said, his voice a low growl that was meant for her ears alone. "But if you dare deceive me, if that vial is anything less than what you claim, I will take your life with my own hands."
The threat was brutal and direct, but Marissa did not flinch. She simply performed a perfect, graceful curtsy. "Of course, Your Grace."
With the terms set, the public ceremony had to be completed. Derek reached out and, with a slow movement that all the guests could see, he lifted her veil.
For the first time, he saw his bride's face. He had expected to see a frightened, plain-looking girl. Instead, he found himself looking at a woman of breathtaking, serene beauty. She had high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and large, intelligent eyes that met his gaze without a hint of fear. They were calm, deep, and utterly unreadable. A strange jolt, something akin to interest, shot through him.
Tradition demanded a kiss. He leaned in, acting on instinct, his eyes on her full lips. But just as his face drew close to hers, she moved. Marissa raised her hand, the white silk of her glove a soft barrier between them. Her fingers pressed firmly against his lips, stopping him completely. To the crowd watching from a distance, it looked like a tender, intimate gesture—a bride placing a hand on her new husband's cheek as they shared their first kiss. But for the two of them, it was a silent, shocking act of defiance.
Derek's eyes widened in surprise. She had denied him.
Marissa smiled faintly, a secret, knowing look in her eyes. She pulled her hand back and curtsied again. "Thank you for your cooperation, Your Grace."
She placed the precious vial into his outstretched hand, then turned without another word and glided back up the steps and into the grand foyer, leaving him standing there, momentarily stunned by her audacity. He stared at the vial, then at her retreating back. Shaking his head to clear it, he pushed the strange encounter aside. He turned and gave the vial to a trusted maid. "Get this to Miss Senna immediately. Make sure she drinks every last drop."
As the maid scurried to the carriage, Derek strode into the house, barking orders for a valet to prepare his formal wedding attire.
The rest of the wedding traditions were in full swing. Derek returned, dressed immaculately as the Grand Duke, his face a mask of indifference. He and Marissa stood before the dowager duchess and the guests. They shared the wedding cup, their fingers brushing as they passed it, but their eyes never met. They signed the official marriage registry, their signatures flowing side-by-side on the heavy parchment, binding them together in law, if not in spirit. The guests watched the whole affair with rapt attention, whispering amongst themselves. It was clear to everyone that there was no love between the Duke and his new Duchess, but she had, against all odds, secured her position.
Once the last tradition was completed, Lorena, her face still stiff with resentment, led Marissa through the labyrinthine halls of the estate to the Grand Duchess's chambers.
The moment Marissa stepped inside, a chill went through her that had nothing to do with the evening air. It was this room. This grand beautiful room was where she had died. She walked slowly, her gloved hand trailing over the smooth, polished wood of a dresser, her eyes drawn to the heavy velvet curtains where the fire had first started. She remembered the heat, the smoke, the terror. She pushed the thought aside with forceful will. That was another life. A life that belonged to a weaker woman.
She sat at the large vanity and began to remove the heavy pearl and diamond accessories from her hair. One by one, she set them down, the quiet clink of metal and jewels the only sound in the room. Her dark curls tumbled down over her shoulders, free at last.
Lily came in quietly and began the long, patient work of unlacing the wedding dress. "The Grand Duke is too cruel, my lady," she murmured, her fingers working deftly at the tight corset. "On his wedding night, he completes the ceremony only to rush to the side of that… that mistress. Leaving you all alone in this big, empty room."
Marissa looked at her own reflection. "Isn't it perfect, Lily?" she replied, her voice soft and content. Lily paused, confused.
Marissa stepped out of the pool of satin and pearls that had fallen to the floor, standing in her simple undergarment. "Now I have wealth, status, and a title no one can take from me. And I have no need to please any man."
She turned to face her maid, a genuine, happy smile gracing her lips. "This, Lily, is true freedom."
Lily finished helping her out of the rest of her underthings and wrapped a plush robe around her shoulders, still looking puzzled by her lady's strange mood. Marissa walked to the adjoining bathing area, a magnificent room of marble and gold fixtures where a steaming bath awaited her. She submerged herself in the warm, rose-scented water with a sigh of relief, the heat soothing her tired muscles.
Lily began to gently scrub her back. "My lady," she said, her curiosity finally getting the better of her. "You seem so different from before. I mean, from the woman you were yesterday. You always spoke of seeing the bigger picture, of enduring wrong treatments silently for the sake of peace."
Marissa leaned her head back, her eyes closed. "The woman who endured injustice is gone, Lily. From now on, I will not be silent. I will not endure. I will live for myself."
Lily nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. She was happy to see this new strength in her mistress. After finishing the bath, she helped Marissa into a soft silk nightgown and began to dry her long hair.
"You must be very tired after today's long ceremony," Lily said cheerfully as she finished. "You should get some sleep, my lady. Tomorrow you must pay respects to the Thompson family ancestors."
Marissa smiled and nodded. As Lily was about to leave, Marissa called her name softly. "Lily."
The maid turned. "Yes, my lady?"
"Seeing you again like this… it makes me truly happy," Marissa said, her smile warm and genuine.
Lily's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, my lady? We see each other every day."
Marissa's smile didn't waver. "Go back now. Get some rest."
"Of course. Sleep well, my lady," Lily said with a final curtsy, before quietly letting herself out of the room.
The heavy door clicked shut, leaving Marissa in the quiet solitude of her new life.
Down the long, dimly lit corridor, a figure detached itself from the shadows of a massive stone pillar. It was Ashlyn. She had watched Lily leave, her eyes narrowed and glittering with a malevolent light. She stared at the closed door of the Grand Duchess's chambers, a cruel smile twisting her lips.
In my last life, she thought, her mind replaying the memory with satisfaction, Miss Lorena, eager to throw me out of the household, brought a drunken man to my bedchamber on my wedding night to ruin my reputation. I was lucky. I escaped through the balcony window. But tonight, there will be no escape for you, dear sister.
She had made sure of it herself just an hour before, using a servant's tool to secretly jam the old latch on the balcony window from the outside. It would not open.
"Now that I've jammed the windows, how will you escape your fate, Marissa?" Ashlyn thought, her smile widening.