I walked into the corridor. Golden light spilled across the polished marble floor. Carved wooden arches framed a view so stunning it felt almost unreal. The garden was alive with color—roses, lilies, and orchids bloomed in harmony, their vivid petals glowing against the backdrop of a lush green maze. Bougainvillea vines curled around the railings, their blossoms dancing in the breeze.
I couldn't help but admire it. It was breathtaking.
"Evelise... it's been a long time," a voice said behind me. "You've become even more beautiful than the last time I saw you."
I turned. Standing there was a young man in his twenties—the same man who had watched me with unsettling intensity during the Count's funeral. I recognized him immediately: Ricardo, the eldest son of a lesser branch of House Mondego.
From the memories I've inherited from Evelise , he had always watched her with those calculating eyes. Each time he visited the manor with his father, he found excuses to get close. Compliments. Small gifts. A ribbon. A comb. Sweets.
The girl he knew would smile, timid and unsure. She didn't yet have the experience to question his intentions.
But the girl he knew was gone.
What remained—the one who bore her face and name—was someone entirely different.
I no longer saw a charming older cousin with kind eyes. I saw a man who had spent years weaving traps. A man who mistook vulnerability for consent.
A groomer. Disgusting.
And now, with my protector gone, he clearly believed he no longer needed to pretend. He looked at me with quiet entitlement, as if nothing stood in his way.
I stared at him—not with fear or confusion, but with knowledge. With contempt.
Then I turned my back and walked away. I didn't need to deal with him.
But suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed my arm—tight.
I stopped cold.
Yanking my arm back, I snapped, "Let me go."
Ricardo's expression twisted into a sneer as he stepped closer. "You act so high and mighty," he said. "But you're just a commoner. Count Laurent is gone. You and your mother have no one to protect you."
He leaned in, his voice lowering.
"I heard Rael allowed you both to stay in the west wing—for now. That's the servant quarters, isn't it? How fitting. Soon, you and your gold-digging mother will be kicked out for good."
He smirked, and my stomach churned.
"So I'm offering you something generous. Come to my mansion. Be my maid," he said, grinning like he was imagining something vile. "I'll take good care of you."
Before I could respond, a commanding voice sliced through the air.
A shadow fell across the hallway, followed by the sharp echo of approaching footsteps.
"What's happening here?"
Rael Mondego stood just a few steps away, his presence like a cold wind cutting through the sunlit corridor. He didn't raise his voice, yet it carried the weight of authority. His emerald-green eyes flicked to me, then to Ricardo. His expression gave nothing away.
Ricardo and I instinctively stepped aside, allowing him space.
"Nothing, cousin. Evelise and I were just talking," Ricardo said with forced casualness.
Rael didn't respond. He simply walked past us, his butler close behind. His silence was more unnerving than any outburst. He didn't need to threaten—his presence alone was warning enough.
We watched him disappear down the corridor.
I turned to leave as well, but Ricardo's voice stopped me.
"Think about my offer, Evelise. When you and your mother get kicked out, you'll have nowhere to go."
I kept walking, pretending I hadn't heard him—though his words hit a painful truth. Still, accepting his offer would mean surrendering my dignity and becoming his plaything.
Ridiculous.
If I had to give up my pride, I'd choose a powerful, wealthy man—not a minor noble with delusions of importance.
Back in our room—a spacious but modest servant's quarters—I allowed myself a moment to breathe. The servants had offered it to us when we first arrived. I think they pitied us. But more than that, I believe they respected my mother. Even after marrying the Count and becoming matron of the house, she had always treated them with kindness. Her warmth had earned their favor.
I turned to the large mirror on the wall. Staring back at me was Evelise—stunningly beautiful. But this beauty was both a blessing and a curse.
If Mother and I were cast out, we'd be in grave danger. A frail woman and her alluring daughter, unprotected, would be like two kittens tossed into a den of lions. Men would never leave us alone. Ricardo was already proof of that.
But surely... this beauty must affect the new Count. That cold, rigid man with a face carved from stone?
Impossible to imagine he's immune.
Men are all the same. They wrap themselves in discipline and distance, but beauty always finds a way in.
Even the strongest will eventually look. And once they look, the mind begins to wander.
All I need is an opportunity—a sliver of closeness, a lingering silence, a moment stretched just long enough.
Desire isn't seized. It's stirred.
Gently. Patiently. Until it smolders beneath the surface, hidden even from them—until it consumes them.
Let him believe he's untouchable. That belief will make his fall inevitable.
If I could have Rael, no one could touch us. Not Ricardo. Not the Mondegos. Not even fate.
I needed to act with urgency but tread carefully. I couldn't afford to draw attention—not from Rael, nor those watching him. He had given us time. I had to use it wisely. I needed to prove my value to the estate, to earn a reason to stay.
At least until my true plan could take form.
Suddenly, the door creaked open and my mother stepped inside.
Her complexion had improved—her cheeks had more color, her movements less shaky. A good sign. She was recovering.
But to me, it wasn't entirely good news.
If she appeared too healthy, Rael might force us out before my plan had a chance to take root. I couldn't allow that.
"Mother, you shouldn't be walking around. You're still sick," I said, rushing to her side.
"I'm feeling a little better now," she replied gently. "I think I'll be fine in a few days."
"No, Mother." I took her hand and guided her to the bed. "Sit down."
My voice was calm but firm—something Helena wasn't used to hearing from her daughter.
"Even if you feel better… please, pretend you're still sick," I whispered.
"What?" my mother blinked. "But—"
"Please, Mom. Just this once," I interrupted, kneeling beside her. "Trust me, okay?"
Helena stared at her daughter, surprised. Ever since Evelise had recovered from that terrible fever, something had changed.
She had always been gentle—shy, even. But now, there was fire in her eyes. Not wild or reckless... but cold. Sharp.
Helena assumed it was grief. Count Laurent was gone. Desperation had lit this fire. Still, this confident girl before her—she was still her daughter. And right now, the only one Helena could rely on.
"…Okay," she said softly. "I'll trust you."
I smiled, relief washing over me.
Step one of my plan was falling into place.