The moment the door closed behind the Viscount, Anna let out a long breath and dropped back onto the bed. She was still piecing everything together when a soft knock came, and a young woman peeked in.
"Milady?" the girl's voice trembled slightly, her eyes bright with relief. "Oh, thank the heavens… you're awake."
Anna looked up, studying the girl. She was about her age, dressed plainly in a maid's uniform, with warm brown eyes and hair pulled into a tidy braid. The way she looked at her — a mix of awe and deep worry — made Anna tread carefully.
"Do you… Remember me, Milady?" the maid asked hesitantly.
Anna hesitated only a second before managing a small nod. "Of course I do, Grace."
Grace's face lit up instantly. "I was so scared… they all thought you were gone. I kept praying you'd wake."
Anna gave her a faint smile, careful to stay in character. "I'm fine now. Just… a little tired."
Grace approached, fussing lightly with the pillows. "You gave us quite a scare, my lady."
Anna let her work a moment, then asked casually, "Grace… about this marriage. The one with the Duke of Blackmoor. What's the story there?"
Grace paused, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard, then lowered her voice. "The Viscount is… not doing well, Milady. His debts are heavy. Word is, he struck a deal — he promised your hand to Duke Dorian Blackmoor in exchange for rights to one of the Blackmoor mines."
Anna's lips curved in a cold, knowing smirk. "So that's why he suddenly agreed to everything I asked for."
Grace blinked. "Pardon?"
"Nothing," Anna waved it off smoothly. "Grace, make sure when those new dresses arrive, I see them first. And don't let anyone tamper with them."
Grace nodded, looking puzzled but obedient. "Yes, Milady."
Anna's gaze turned sharp, a glint in her eye. If Celina wants a game, I'll play. And I'll win.
She was still piecing everything together — the names, the power plays, the cold eyes of her so-called family — when sleep claimed her.
But it wasn't peaceful.
In her dream, darkness surrounded her. A thick, suffocating void. She was running, her feet sinking into unseen ground. From the shadows, a tall, faceless figure emerged, its hand outstretched, long fingers curling around her wrist like iron.
"Come with me," a deep, unfamiliar voice whispered, dragging her toward a gaping black hole that opened in the earth.
Anna screamed, clawing at nothing, desperate to break free — but the harder she fought, the colder it got, the hand pulling her down into that endless, devouring dark.
Just before she fell in, she woke with a gasp.
The pale morning light filtered through the drapes, and Grace was at her side in an instant, a soft cloth in hand.
"Milady, are you alright?" Grace's voice was laced with worry. "You were restless in your sleep."
Anna took a shaky breath, brushing a hand through her hair. "I… I'm fine. Just a bad dream."
Grace fussed over her, helping her wash up, laying out a soft, simple dress, and fixing her hair neatly.
"Your presence is requested at the dining table," Grace finally informed her with a polite curtsy. "The Viscount wishes you to join him."
Anna composed herself, nodded once, and rose to her feet.
The dining hall was as grand as Anna expected — a long polished table, tall candelabras, and walls lined with heavy drapes. At one end sat Viscount Harrowind, already nursing a glass of wine. Beside him, Lady Geneva was in a soft lilac gown, all stiff grace and measured politeness. Celina, dressed in pale blue, sat to her mother's right, her expression carefully schooled.
They all turned as Amelia entered.
The room fell briefly silent.
She walked with steady steps to her usual seat, the scraping of the chair loud in the heavy air. A maid immediately appeared, serving soup into her bowl.
"Amelia, my dear," the Viscount began smoothly, setting down his glass. "I trust you're feeling well enough to join us. It's good to see you recovering."
Anna forced a small, practiced smile. "I'm grateful for everyone's concern, Father."
Lady Geneva chimed in, her smile brittle. "We were all worried, dear. You gave us such a scare."
Celina only nodded, her eyes sharp and watching.
The Viscount cleared his throat. "I've arranged for Madame Eloise — the court etiquette instructor — to come by tomorrow. You must refresh your manners before the marriage contract is announced. You'll be expected to carry yourself as a future duchess."
At that, Anna lifted her hand to her throat and gave a soft cough, leaning back as if overwhelmed.
Geneva made a show of fussing. "Should you be up so soon? Perhaps you should rest—"
"No," Anna said, voice soft but firm, lowering her hand and straightening. "I'm truly touched by all of this. It's good to know how much my family cares for me."
Her gaze swept over them, lingering on Celina.
"And I know Celina must be very happy," Anna continued, a faint, unreadable smile tugging at her lips. "Happy to see her dear sister getting married… to such an influential man."
There was something in her tone — light to anyone else's ears, but sharp enough to prick Celina like a needle.
Celina stiffened for half a second, then forced a delicate smile in return, masking her unease.
"Of course," Celina said smoothly. "Your happiness is ours."
Anna kept the expression on her face — a polite, demure look that only Celina would recognize wasn't genuine. She watched the flicker in her stepsister's eyes and felt a cold satisfaction settle in her chest.
Later that afternoon
Celina lingered by the corner of the hallway, her ear pressed discreetly against the wall as her father's voice carried from his study.
"Prepare new dresses for Amelia," Viscount Harrowind was saying. "Nothing simple. Call for the court designer — let them take her measurements tomorrow."
"But, my Lord," came the butler's cautious reply, "Lady Amelia has never—"
"I know," the Viscount cut him off. "But we need to leave a good impression for Duke Blackmoor. If she's to stand before him, she should at least look the part. And… It's odd. This is the first time she's ever had the nerve to ask for anything."
Celina's stomach twisted. What?
She had waited, hoping to catch her father brushing off Amelia's request — but instead she heard this. New clothes? And in front of Duke Blackmoor? It wasn't part of their plan.
Her pulse quickened as she spun away from the wall, storming down the corridor toward her mother's room.
⸻
Lady Geneva sat by her vanity, lazily toying with a pearl necklace when Celina burst in.
"Mother!" Celina hissed, slamming the door behind her.
Lady Geneva raised a brow. "What now?"
"She demanded new clothes," Celina seethed. "Father's sending for the court designer — he agreed. And he wants to impress Duke Blackmoor. He thinks something's off with Amelia too, but he's going along with it."
Lady Geneva's face darkened, her fingers tightening around the pearls.
"How dare she," Geneva snarled. "That little wretch forgets her place far too easily."
Celina crossed her arms. "We need to remind her."
"Oh, we will," Lady Geneva said, her voice sharp as a dagger. "Soon enough."