The limousine glided through rain-slicked streets, its tinted windows reflecting streaks of neon and water. Inside, silence sat heavy — the kind of silence that hummed with secrets.
Chloe broke it first.
A soft sigh slipped from her lips, dreamy and delicate, her fingers brushing the fogged glass.
"He's so different from what I imagined," she whispered, almost reverently.
Diana turned slightly from the front seat, her voice smooth as silk. "Who is, darling?"
"Liam," Chloe breathed, her tone brightening with a blush that painted her cheeks. "When I almost tripped, he caught me. He didn't even let go of my hand for the longest time." She smiled shyly, lost in the memory. "His hands are so warm."
I could have laughed. Of course she was enchanted. Liam is undeniably handsome and charming. His looks, coupled with his status and background, makes the perfect husband. I looked at Chloe, the stepsister, a damsel, a lost doe in the dazzling world of the elites, infatuated by a man she thought belonged to someone else. It was her favorite type of temptation.
But instead, I tilted my head, my smile soft, sisterly — the kind that hides razors behind ribbons.
"He is, isn't he?" I murmured, my tone gentle, approving. "Always so thoughtful. Did you know he funded that children's charity last year? Quietly — didn't even put his name on it."
Her eyes lit up. The blush deepened.
Perfect.
I kept feeding her little morsels of the man she would crave — wealth, gentleness, quiet power. I could almost see her building a fairytale in her head, with Liam as her shining knight.
And I let her. I knew precisely how she felt. That was me in my past life, right before finding out about their betrayal. I let out a quiet scoff.
Let her dream. Let her fall headfirst into that illusion until she couldn't tell desire from obsession. Then I'd take it all away.
That would be her first taste of despair.
Because this time, I would be the one taking everything. I will make sure they pay.
A few days later, I met Sienna at the Laurent Gallery — a pristine white oasis far from the suffocating smiles at home. The scent of fresh paint and marble polish was oddly soothing.
We were admiring a minimalist sculpture when Isabelle Laurent herself approached, her expression warm but sharp with curiosity.
"Elara, my dear," she greeted. "I'm glad to see you out again. Your sister mentioned you've been so overwhelmed since she and your stepmother moved in. She seems terribly worried about you."
She looked around and lowered her voice, "The Xanax may help, but it's not the answer to everything. Take care."
Her words were kind. But they landed like ice water down my spine, freezing me in a memory I knew too well: the looks people threw at me, the isolation, the avoidance.
So this is why... While I was trying hard to help Chloe get used to the socialite life, she was spreading rumours behind my back... Rumours that would discredit me. Discredit my mental capacity. How blind was I?
Diana's tactics never changed — soften the public image, poison the private one. Paint me as fragile, emotional, unstable. She had done it once before. She was doing it again.
Only this time, I saw every brushstroke.
The next morning, as we sat at the dining hall having breakfast, I saw my phone light up, it was a notification from the Financial Daily app. New Article: Legacy in Red Ink. I clicked in. The Financial Daily published a small retrospective piece on family business collapses. Buried halfway down was a single, poisonous paragraph.
"Crestwood Printers' downfall came after a failed partnership with Lumière Events, then headed by Diana Meyer, possibly the next Mrs. Sterling."
Subtle. Credible. Enough.
I looked at Diana, who was elegantly sipping on her coffee.
Her phone rang. "Hello?" I couldn't hear what the person in the phone was saying, but whatever it was, it wasn't good news, and I'm guessing it was about the article.
The reaction was instant.
Diana's hand froze, her eyes darting around the dining hall as she listened intently, a frown forming on her perfectly made up face. After a fraction of a second, she suddenly slammed her coffee cup down — hard enough for fine china to crack.
The sound splintered through the dining room like a gunshot. Coffee splashed across the white tablecloth, blooming like blood.
Father looked up, confused, "What is the matter dear?"
Diana shot him a reassuring smile, "It's nothing sweetheart. One small glitch from purchasing department. I'll have it sorted out in no time."
She stood up and walked out of the dining room. I made an excuse and followed out of the dining hall, standing at a corner of the corridor, hidden from her sight.
"Useless," she hissed into her phone as she paced up and down the corridor, voice sharp with venom. "Didn't I tell you to deal with it? Do you call this dealing with it? Stop the excuses! Fix it. I don't care how. This time, get it done, do you understand?"
And just like that, she was gone — her heels clicking a trail of fury down the hall.
Whoever is on the other end of the phone would know a fair bit of Diana's dealings. I need to find out who that was.
Now with the article, Diana would have to do something. To contain the fallout, she'd need to take risks. And risks meant mistakes.
Later that evening, as I was watching a drama, my phone buzzed.
"Elara," Liam's voice filtered through — careful, coaxing, laced with frustration. "About the other night… about our engagement… maybe we should talk."
He sounded uncertain, like a man clutching sand and watching it slip through his fingers.
As he spoke, memory hit — his betrayal, the coldness in his eyes, the shove that sent me tumbling into death. For a heartbeat, my chest tightened. Then the ache burned itself clean.
I wasn't the same girl he killed.
My dear Chloe, I can't do anything to you now... But perhaps a taste of jealousy, the type of betrayal I felt, is a good appetiser.
"Liam," I interrupted, my voice soft, lilting — just like he remembered. "You're right. We haven't had a chance to talk about anything for some time now. How about lunch tomorrow?"
Liam quickly answered, "Alright. I'll pick you up tomorrow. We can go to Le Cygne Noir. I heard they have a new menu."
"Perfect."
When I hung up, the smile on my lips wasn't sweet anymore.
Let Chloe watch him chase me. Let her seethe as he tried to win me back. Let them both drown in the jealousy they once made me choke on.
I stood up and opened my wardrobe, looking through my dresses. I picked out a silver figure hugging satin dress. This will do.