Ara stepped into Ravenhurst Manor with a burning resolve in her chest. This time, she would not falter. This time, she would not repeat the mistakes of her past.
The vast entrance swallowed her whole. A grand chandelier spilled dim golden light across polished marble floors. Heavy black-and-gold draperies framed towering windows, and along the walls, portraits of ancestors with unreadable gazes seemed to watch her every step.
The manor was beautiful, but it carried a silence that was heavy and alive—an aura of mystery and power that pressed against her chest as though testing her determination.
Behind her, Damian Everhart entered with her brothers, Sean and Callum, walking in quiet solidarity. They had come not only to bring her home but also to see if she truly had the strength to face this place again.
"Welcome home, Miss Everhart," Mrs. Mia, the housekeeper, said softly, bowing her head. Her voice carried warmth, but it was cautious, careful—as though she wasn't sure Ara would truly stay.
Ara's chest tightened at the name. Everhart. In her past life, she had thrown that dignity away. Pride, recklessness, and Damon's shadow had made her trample on her family's love. Not this time.
Her father studied her in silence, his eyes dark with emotion. He had seen her at her worst—irrational, self-destructive, cruel to those who only wanted to protect her. But now, looking at her steady expression, there was something different. Something resolute.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. "We'll leave you to rest, Ara."
Her throat tightened. "Dad…"
That single word made his chest ache. It had been so long since she called him that. For a moment, Damian's hand lingered before he pulled back, masking his emotions behind composure. "We'll talk later. Take care of yourself."
Sean, the eldest, stepped forward. His jaw was set, his voice steady, but his eyes betrayed his worry. "Ara… don't hurt yourself again."
Callum, the youngest, tried to smile though his lips trembled. He ruffled her hair gently, just as he had when they were children. "We're here for you, Ara. Please… don't shut us out this time."
Her heart squeezed painfully. She forced herself to meet their gazes. "I won't. Not anymore."
Sean studied her for a long moment, then gave a small nod. Callum's shoulders eased. With that, they turned to follow their father out.
The heavy doors closed behind them, leaving Ara standing alone in the vast, cold hall of Ravenhurst Manor.
The silence deepened.
Mrs. Mia approached, her steps quiet. "Come, Miss Everhart, let me help you to your room."
But Ara stopped midway up the grand staircase. Her voice, though soft, carried unshakable determination.
"Not there. Take me to Adrian's room."
Mrs. Mia froze. Her eyes flickered with surprise. For a heartbeat, she hesitated—but when she saw Ara's steady gaze, she gave a small nod.
The corridor stretched on endlessly, lined with dark paintings—storm-tossed seas, ancient ruins, faceless figures cloaked in shadows. Each piece of art exuded power and mystery, as though echoing Adrian himself. Hidden within the manor's antique beauty, the faint hum of security systems reminded her of its sharp modern edge.
At last, they reached the master bedroom.
The moment Ara stepped inside, her breath hitched. The room was vast, commanding, yet suffocating. Adrian's presence lingered in every corner—the sharp scent of his cologne, the cold stillness of his aura woven into the air. He wasn't here, yet it felt as though he was watching her.
She sat on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing the silk sheets. For a moment, her courage faltered. But she steadied herself and turned to Mrs. Mia.
"From now on," Ara said firmly, "call me Madam. Or… Mrs. Blackwell."
Mrs. Mia blinked, her lips parting in shock. In the past, Ara had forbidden it, despising any attachment to Adrian's name. Yet here she was, claiming it for herself.
Slowly, Mrs. Mia's expression softened. A faint smile touched her lips as she bowed. "Yes, Mrs. Blackwell."
The title, once unbearable, no longer felt like a chain. For the first time, it felt like a vow.
Later, Mrs. Mia returned with a tray of warm food and fruits. Ara ate quietly, her body still weak, but each bite steadied her resolve.
When she was finished, Mrs. Mia collected the tray in silence, leaving her alone once more.
Ara lay back against the vast bed, moonlight spilling across the room. Her hand brushed the empty space beside her where Adrian should have been.
Adrian… wait for me. This time, I'll make things right.
Her eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion pulling her under.
The manor grew quiet again. But somewhere within its endless halls, the shadows seemed to stir.
Ara succumbed to sleep soundly, comforted by one thought—Adrian would return that night. He always did. No matter how late, no matter how cold his words, in her past life she knew he came back just to see her, to make sure she was breathing, existing.
She clung to that fragile certainty, drifting into dreams where his shadow lingered at the edge of her bed, silent but watchful. This time, she wouldn't turn her back on him. This time, she would welcome him.
But Adrian did not come.
The night stretched on, heavy and still. Only the whisper of wind against the windows kept her company until sleep pulled her deeper.
When morning came, soft golden light streamed through the tall windows, spilling warmth across the room. Ara stirred, her lashes fluttering as she blinked against the glow. For a heartbeat, she reached for the other side of the bed, expecting to find the faint impression of his presence.
It was empty.
Her chest tightened, but she did not falter. Slowly, Ara sat up, the silk sheets slipping down her shoulders as sunlight wrapped around her like a quiet promise.
Today, she thought, gripping the edge of the bed with new determination. Today, things would begin to change.