I was walking—no shackles, no rope, no restraint of any kind—as the guard escorted me down the corridor toward a room.
My steps echoed down the corridor, lighter than I expected. The torches flickered as we passed, throwing long shadows against the stone walls.
When we stopped before a carved wooden door, the guard opened it without a word.
Warm air greeted me instantly.
The room inside was decent. A fire crackled quietly in the hearth, filling the air with the faint scent of cedar. A small table stood in the corner, set with bread, cheese, and a pot of tea. Fresh linen curtains fluttered slightly by the window, letting in the pale morning light.
It was… civilized. Huh, I guess they're still nice to Laetitia.
"Stay here," the guard said. "Someone will come for you soon."
He left, shutting the door behind him.
I stood in the middle of the room for a moment, disoriented. The sudden comfort almost made my skin crawl. After days in that damp cell, this warmth felt foreign.
Still, I walked to the fire, held my hands near the flame, and exhaled. "Finally…" The word came out shaky, half-laugh, half-sigh. "I actually made it out alive."
For the first time since I woke up in this world, the air didn't feel like it was choking me. Like I'm not chasing the time anymore. The warmth licked at my palms, chasing away the damp chill that had clung to me for days. I closed my eyes and let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
It was over—at least for now. The trial, the cell, the threat of the noose. All gone. I had escaped death. A laugh bubbled up from my chest, quiet and disbelieving. "God, I really survived," I murmured, almost afraid the universe would take it back if I said it too loud.
The weight that had been pressing on my shoulders finally eased. I rubbed at my arms, feeling the warmth seep into me, then hugged myself tightly.
"Guess we did it," I whispered under my breath, voice small against the crackle of fire. "You… evil woman." A faint, sad smile tugged at my lips. "You were horrible, selfish, and cruel, but—" I exhaled softly, looking down at my hands. "I don't really have a choice, do I? I'm stuck in you."
The firelight danced across the walls, and for a fleeting second, I swore I could almost see her—Laetitia—watching from the flames, her sharp eyes softer now, or was I just hallucinating from the stress and fatigue?? Anyways, I'm out now.
"I'll protect you," I said quietly, fingers tightening against my sleeves. "Even if you were a villain… I'll protect us both."
Minutes passed. The clock on the mantle ticked faintly, marking each minute that crawled by. Until I finally heard it—the faint rumble of wheels outside.
I'm guessing a carriage. Moments later, I heard a loud voice outside.
"By the order of Lord D'Aubigny," someone announced, "I have come to retrieve
Lady and escort her home." after a few seconds, the door opened.
A young maid stepped in, carrying a box. She curtsied deeply. "Lady D'Aubigny," she said. "I am Margot. I've been sent to assist you."
She set the box down on the table and opened it. Inside were neatly folded clothes—and on the other side were jewelries.
Margot smiled gently. "Your family's carriage has arrived. Lord D'Aubigny has ordered that you be made presentable before departure."
I raised an eyebrow. "Presentable," I repeated dryly. "Do I look that terrible?"
Margot's hands trembled slightly as she smoothed the folds of her apron. Her eyes darted to mine, then quickly down to the floor. When she finally spoke, her voice came out small and uncertain but steady, each word measured as if afraid to offend.
"If I may, my lady," she said, bowing her head, "a bit of rest and fresh garments would only… enhance your beauty."
Her tone was gentle—too careful. I caught the faint quiver in her voice, the kind that came from someone who'd seen what happened to those who said the wrong thing in front of the wrong person.
"Flattering," I muttered, but I let her help me anyway.
She brushed out my hair, wincing softly whenever she found a tangle. The dirt and grime came off my skin with surprising ease once warm water filled the basin. Then came the dress — a soft gray-blue gown, elegant but modest, cinched neatly at the waist.
She fastened the final clasp at my back she then move to putting the jewelries.
The maid's hands moved delicately, as she fastened the last clasp around my wrist. The jewelry was cold against my skin — heavy emeralds set in bracelet that shimmered faintly under the candlelight. Around my neck, a necklace of the same stone rested, cool and weighty, its green fire catching every flicker of light.
"Please hold still, my lady," the maid murmured. Her voice trembled slightly, as if afraid to make eye contact. She slid a pair of dangling earrings through my lobes, her fingers careful not to graze my skin too much.
There was no mirror in the room — only the faint reflection of light on polished metal trays and the dim glow of the fire behind me. I couldn't see myself, couldn't tell what kind of woman stared back now. All I could do was trust her hands and the rustle of fabric as she worked.
"Is it… done?" I asked quietly.
"Yes, my lady," the maid said, stepping back with a curt nod. She looked uncertain, as if unsure whether to curtsy or flee.
I couldn't blame her.
"You look lovely, my lady." She just say while bowing her head. I raised my brows when she complemented me... without looking.
Margot stepped outside "She is ready, sir." She said to someone and opened the door wide to reveal me.
He gave a curt nod to the maid and turned to me. "This way, my lady."
I inclined my head politely and followed.
The moment we stepped outside, the sunlight hit me—too bright, too real. The carriage stood waiting, the D'Aubigny crest glinting on its door.
"Lady D'Aubigny," the steward said again, offering his hand.
Inside the carriage, the cushions were soft, the curtains thick enough to block the afternoon light. The faint scent of lavender clung to the fabric, probably to mask the lingering damp from the prison's air that still clung to me.
Margot sat across from me, her posture prim and polite, hands folded neatly over her lap like she'd been trained to avoid eye contact. Beside her, the steward occupied the corner seat near the door, silent and immovable.
I let my gaze drift toward him, pretending to study the passing scenery through the window, but really, I was taking him in. The crisp black coat, the polished boots, the silver pin of the D'Aubigny crest on his chest — yes. This was him
The novel had mentioned him briefly—"Sir Edric Vance, the D'Aubigny steward for over twenty years". He was described as a man with sharp features, thinning silver hair, and eyes as pale as ash — the kind that saw everything yet revealed nothing.
Stewards weren't just glorified servants — they were the executors of noble will.
Anything official—collecting taxes, representing the family in court, retrieving an imprisoned daughter—Like my situation now, all fell under his duties. They were the bridge between the law and the House.
Which meant… this wasn't a father's act of mercy.
This was a declaration.
A quiet, cold signal that carried more weight than words ever could,"This is the will and authority of the House itself — not personal affection."
My father hadn't come himself. He'd sent his hand instead.
I leaned back slightly, hiding the twist of my mouth behind a faint, composed smile.
So, Lord D'Aubigny wanted to make it clear — I was to be retrieved, not welcomed.
Fine. Message received.
For a while, none of us spoke. The wheels rolled steadily over the cobblestones, carrying us through the capital's streets.
I should've felt relieved. After all, I wasn't in chains anymore. I wasn't rotting in that cell. I was free — or at least, as free as a disgraced noblewoman could be.
But my heart wouldn't stop pounding.
This wasn't part of the book anymore.
The trial, the maid's testimony—none of it had gone this way in the story. I'd altered something massive, something irreversible. And if the world decided to "correct" itself…
What if this world collapses back into the script, dragging me down with it?
My stomach twisted.
What will happen to me then?
I exhaled, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Don't spiral, I told myself. Think..
The silence was suffocating.
I shifted slightly, trying to distract myself, and leaned my head against the window. Outside, the streets grew narrower as we entered the lower town.
Children stopped playing to stare. Vendors paused mid-shout.
Then, out of nowhere — splat.
Something wet and foul-smelling hit the glass inches from my face.
I jerked back instinctively. A tomato slid down the window, leaving a red streak behind.
Then another hit. And another. Rotten fruit, vegetables — even a mud-covered turnip.
Voices rose outside. Angry, vicious voices.
"Witch!" "Murderer!" "Rot in hell, Lady D'Aubigny!" "Demon in a woman's skin!"
Their hatred rattled through the glass. Someone threw a stone that cracked the lower corner of the window.
Margot flinched and instinctively clutched the fabric of her dress, her knuckles whitening. The steward, seated across from me, cast a brief glance at the angry mob outside before speaking in a low, guarded tone.
"My lady," he said carefully, "I advise you to stay away from the window. Best not to provoke them further."
His words were polite, but his eyes never quite met mine.
I leaned back, swallowing my irritation. "She wasn't born that way," I murmured under my breath.
Margot glanced up. "Pardon, my lady?"
"Nothing."
The carriage wheels rolled over cobblestone, the echoes of the crowd's hatred still trailing behind us like a curse.
I remembered the novel's few lines about Laetitia's past — her mother and father were cold to her as if she wasn't their child, her nanny whispering poison into her ears for years. She'd been taught cruelty like it was love, manipulation like it was survival.
No one had cared enough to unteach her.
I sighed, sinking deeper into the seat.
The noise faded as the carriage left the town and entered the countryside. The air grew clearer, fields stretching out in waves of green and gold.
When the D'Aubigny estate came into view, The sun was already setting and the estate, it was smaller than I'd expected — not a grand castle, but a large, well-kept manor surrounded by gardens and tall hedges. The walls were a soft cream stone, the windows trimmed with dark wood.
Not magnificent. But… home.
Or it should've been.
As we passed through the gates, no one came to greet us. No servants lined up, no warm welcome. Just the hollow echo of hooves on gravel.
The carriage stopped. The steward climbed down and opened the door. "We've arrived, my lady."
I stepped out, my shoes crunching on the stones. The front door stood open, but no one waited there.
Typical. I would even be surprised if they were waiting for Laetitia to arrived.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of lavender and old parchment. The hall was quiet, too quiet. I could hear the ticking of a distant clock.
Margot followed silently as the steward led me upstairs. Stopping before a polished oak door. I'm guessing, Laetitia's room. He opened it, bowed slightly, and left without another word.
I stood at the threshold, taking it in.
The room wasn't massive or luxurious, but it was… peaceful. A bed with crisp white sheets stood near the window. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books — mostly romance novels and poetry collections. I could tell. Paintings of her. A writing desk sat near the corner, stacked with ink bottles and half-burned candles.
It was the kind of room that hinted at solitude—not comfort, not warmth, but trying to escape.
Margot set the last of my things near the wardrobe and curtsied. "If you need anything, my lady, ring the bell."
I nodded, waving her off. "You may go."
When the door clicked shut behind her, silence filled the space again.
I turned slowly, scanning every inch of the room, the bed, the shelves, the desk.
Then I opened the wardrobe.
And froze.
Inside hung rows of gowns — silks, velvets, lace-trimmed skirts in colors that shimmered faintly under the lamplight. Boxes lined the floor, each filled with beautiful jewelries—necklaces, rings, earrings, all glittering faintly even in the dim glow.
I crouched, lifting one of the velvet boxes. Inside lay a necklace of pearls and gold.
"Laetitia," I breathed. "You were vain as hell, weren't you?"
For someone who wasn't born to a powerful duchy or a massive fortune, she'd certainly lived like she had both.
Still, looking at the jewels, I felt an odd tug in my chest.
Maybe this was how she'd coped — hiding pain beneath glitter, loneliness beneath perfume. A girl raised by cruelty, trying to look untouchable.
My reflection in the mirror caught my eye, and I had to catch my breath again. The woman staring back was beautiful—truly beautiful—yet unmistakably evil. Long black hair framed a small porcelain face, her bright green eyes sharp and alive, lips painted red like temptation itself. She was breathtaking, yet dangerous to look at—the very definition of a rose with thorns beneath its bloom.
The protagonist of this damn novel might have been golden and angelic, but Laetitia—she's a beautiful poison. The kind you'll gladly drink.
I set the necklace down gently. "Alright, Laetitia," I murmured. "You wanted a second chance. You'll get it. But this time, we're doing it my way."
Outside, the evening light dimmed, shadows stretching long across the walls.
As I drew the curtains closed, a faint movement caught my attention — a silhouette on the path below, half-hidden by the hedges.
A man, tall, posture straight, his gaze fixed on my window.
For a moment, our eyes met through the glass.
Then he turned and disappeared toward the main house.
My heartbeat quickened.
Whoever it was, I could feel it in my gut — this wasn't over.
Not even close.
And as the firelight flickered against the walls, I smiled faintly to myself.
"Watch all you want," I whispered. "But this time, I'm the one holding the pen."