The moment the butler's words fell, silence rippled across the hall. She couldn't remember in detail, but it seemed as if this was the same way Anne arrived in the future.
Miss Anne Carvil.
The name Selene once wished she had never known. The name that haunted her last life like poison.
Her body stiffened, but she kept her chin high, and her expression calm. Only her nails dug crescents into her palm, hidden by the folds of her gown.
Anne shouldn't be here. Not this early. Eight years from now, she was introduced with smiles and flowery words, and welcomed as the "real daughter." months after her arrival. However, here she was, striding into the Sinclair mansion like she already belonged.
Selene's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Bring her in."
The butler bowed and stepped aside.
And then Anne entered.
She looked younger too. Far younger than the woman who had stolen everything from her. Also eighteen, perhaps.
She was petite, with delicate features that seemed painted for sympathy. A pale dress hugged her slight figure, and her long lashes fluttering as though she were nervous.
She played the part of innocence perfectly.
But Selene knew better.
Those eyes, beneath their shy glitter, carried ambition as sharp as blades.
Richard Sinclair rose to greet her warmly, as though she were already precious to him. "Miss Carvil. Welcome. You're earlier than expected."
Selene swallowed. Have they met before? Have they spoken? Could it be that even in this life, there would be nothing left for her?
Anne's lips curved into a demure smile. "Forgive my impatience, Mr. Sinclair. I simply couldn't wait to pay my respects."
She tilted her head, glancing around the hall as though drinking in the grandeur. And then her gaze landed on Selene.
For the briefest heartbeat, her smile faltered.
Selene saw it. There was a flicker of recognition there. As if Anne already knew who her rival was destined to be.
Selene's own smile widened, calm, and unshaken. "Miss Carvil." Her voice was soft, like velvet over steel. "Welcome to the Sinclair estate."
Anne's lips curved again, gentler this time, almost trembling. "Miss Sinclair… it's such an honor to finally meet you."
Honor?
The word tasted like ash.
Selene remembered the same lips years later, whispering venom into Damian's ear. Smiling sweetly as she stole everything Selene had bled for.
Well, not this time. They say, the more knowledge a man has, the more sorrow he attaches to himself. Well, in her case, that wouldn't be true. Sorrow clinged to her because she had no knowledge. Now that she knows better, she'd never lose her name, wealth, or reputation again.
"Likewise," Selene replied smoothly, crossing the room. Her gown whispered against the marble, and her every step was deliberate, and controlled. She stopped before Anne, tilting her head with practiced elegance. "I hope the journey wasn't too tiring."
Anne lowered her gaze, playing the meek guest. "Not at all. Your home is… breathtaking."
Richard beamed at the exchange, clearly pleased. "Why don't you both get to know each other better? You're near in age, after all. Selene, show Miss Carvil the gardens. I have matters to attend to."
The trap was laid.
Selene inclined her head. "Of course, Father."
...….
The garden stretched wide beneath autumn skies, with roses blooming in neat hedges, fountains sparkling with sunlight. Servants lingered at a distance, discreet enough to let the young ladies speak freely.
Anne walked beside Selene, with her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her voice was soft when her lips parted. "Your father is very kind. It must be wonderful to grow up in a family like this."
Selene's lips twitched. Wonderful? To be adored, only to be abandoned? To be treasured, only to be replaced?
"Yes," she said, her voice smooth. "It has been… unforgettable."
Anne looked at her, eyes wide with something unreadable. "You're fortunate. My family… they never—" She cut herself off with a practiced laugh. "Forgive me. I must sound pitiful."
Ah. There it was. The bait. Anne knew how to play weakness like a symphony, weaving pity into admiration until people couldn't tell the difference.
Selene turned, meeting her gaze head-on. "Pitiful? I wouldn't call it that. I would call it… strategic."
Fast forward to eight years, she would have fallen for Anne strategies, but not anymore.
Anne blinked. Her lips parted, just slightly. "Strategic?"
Selene's smile was sweet, and almost innocent. "Yes. Sometimes, showing weakness earns more than showing strength."
Anne faltered, just for a moment. But then her lashes lowered, hiding her expression. "You're very perceptive, Miss Sinclair."
Perceptive? No. She was simply a woman who had already died once because of Anne Carvil.
Selene leaned closer. Her voice was low, and meant for Anne alone. "I look forward to getting to know you better, Miss Carvil. Very much so."
Anne froze, her delicate mask cracking just slightly before she recovered. "And I, you."
That night, when Selene finally returned to her room, she pressed her palms flat against the cool glass of her window, staring out at the glowing city below.
Anne had come early. Fate was moving differently this time. Also, what were Anne's intentions of coming this time?
Fast forward to eight years, Anne had come, claiming to be their legitimate daughter. This time, she didn't make any claims. She simply acted like a dove.
Whatever her reason would be, Selene was ready.
She wasn't the naïve girl waiting for her father's approval, or for Damian's affection. She wasn't the blind fool who believed Anne's trembling words.
This time, she was awake.
This time, she would strike first.
And if destiny wanted to throw Anne into her path earlier… then Selene would burn her earlier. Fate would really be interesting. It would have been boring if it had simply just thrown this at her feet with no twists.
Her reflection stared back at her in the glass. Beautifully young, flawless, and smiling coldly.
"When you are young, they assume you know nothing," she whispered.