The Sterling mansion was a hive of activity, a stark contrast to the tomb it had become in my first life. Today was the day of the Annual Vance Charity Gala, an event as ingrained in my childhood as birthdays. I had attended every year since I could walk, a silent, smiling prop in the long-standing narrative of the Sterling-Vance alliance.
This year, the air was different. It was thick with the cloying scent of Diana's ambition and Chloe's desperation - it took me a lifetime to figure that out. Diana moved through the preparations with the serene efficiency of a queen in her new kingdom, her every gesture designed to soothe and include.
"Elara, darling," she said, her voice a gentle caress as she swept into my room. She carried a garment bag, her expression one of excited conspiracy. "I took the liberty. I saw this and just knew it was for you. It's so soft, so innocent. Perfect for a young lady making her debut."
With a flourish, she unzipped the bag. Inside was a dress of the palest blush pink, a confection of layered tulle and satin ribbons. It was exquisitely made, and undeniably beautiful. It was also the dress of a child. A doll. It screamed naivety, designed to make me look fragile and sweet next to Chloe's polished sophistication. I remember this dress. I remember the event. I remember Chloe taking away the spotlight. I remember being brushed aside by people who thought Chloe now has my father's favour.
In my first life, I had wept with gratitude when I saw the dress and how Diana cared to pick up what my clothes. I had been so starved for a mother's attention, so touched that she had thought of me. I now understood with chilling clarity why I had fallen for it. The trap wasn't made of spikes, but of silk.
"It's lovely, Ms Diana," I said, my voice carefully neutral. "Thank you for thinking of me."
Her smile was a masterpiece of maternal pride. "Of course, sweetheart. We want you to shine." She then turned, her voice dipping into a whisper. "Now, for Chloe… well, she doesn't have your natural advantages, poor dear. I found something a little more… structured for her. To give her some confidence. But fret not, dear, as you will shine, as always."
The unspoken words hung in the air: You don't need help to shine, so I've dressed you down. She needs the help, so I've dressed her up.
I remember this dress "for confidence." It was a stunning column of silver silk, sophisticated and subtly shimmering, designed to make its wearer look effortlessly elegant and mature, hugging her blossoming figure. The contrast was a deliberate, calculated masterpiece.
I felt a pang, not of jealousy, but of a grim respect for Diana's skill. She was an artist, and her medium was human vulnerability.
As the day wore on, their performance was flawless. Chloe practiced looking demure in her silver gown, asking me for advice on how to act, how to speak. "You're so good at this, Elara. I just want to make sure I don't embarrass father." Diana fussed over both of us, her affection seeming utterly genuine. It was a perfect pantomime of a loving family, and I understood with horrifying clarity how completely I had been duped. I had been a lonely, motherless girl, and they had offered me everything I craved.
But the ghost in me was no longer hungry. I have seen what's beneath their smiles, their caring demeanour. The longing in my heart, it's filled with hatred.
When it was time to dress, I went to my mother's old armoire. I bypassed the dramatic velvet and severe silhouettes, my fingers trailing on the dresses.
I chose a simple dress of deep sapphire crepe. It was cut on a bias, elegant and fluid, and it moved with me. It wasn't trying to be older or younger than I was; it was just… right. It was the color of the sky just after sunset, quiet but undeniable. I left my hair down, my chestnut curls loose, and wore a single pair of small pearl earrings that had been my mother's.
I picked out a pair of pearl white heels from my room, and while I was leaving the room, I saw the pink dress Diana picked out, hanging by my wardrobe. I paused and went to the bathroom to get a glass of water. I splashed it on the pink dress, and pinched my thigh, forcing a few tears as I left my room.
When I descended the stairs, the reaction was different this time.
My father's face softened. "You look beautiful, sweetheart. So like yourself." He stopped, noticing my tears. "What's wrong sweetheart? Are you not feeling well?"
Beisde him, Diana's smile was tighter, her eyes sharp as they scanned my dress, "Elara dear, did you not like the dress I picked for you? I'm sorry it's not to your liking-"
"No, Ms Diana," I forced a drop of tear, "I accidentally dropped the dress on the wet floor and I can't wear it now. I'm so sorry! It's something you picked out for me and I loved it. But... But..."
"It's alright sweetheart," my father walked up a few steps and held my hand. "Don't need to cry. You look stunning in this dress too!"
I smiled at him, "thank you, daddy! I just felt really bad for spoiling Ms Diana's plan..."
Diana came up, smiling as well. "No worries my dear. I'll make sure there's a spare next time, okay?"
Just then, Chloe came out from her room. She was in her silver silk, which was indeed stunning. She looked like a young movie star. But the effort was visible. My simplicity, my quiet confidence, made her glamour seem almost… desperate.
The limo ride to the Vance estate was a study in suppressed tension beneath a veneer of polite chatter.
The Vance estate was exactly as I remembered—a sprawling, modern palace of glass and steel, lit up against the twilight. The air hummed with the sound of expensive engines and the murmur of the city's elite. Every step on the familiar marble entrance was a step back into a nightmare I was now wide awake in.
And then, I saw him.
Liam Vance. He stood near the entrance, greeting guests with the effortless charm that was his birthright. Eighteen years old, already the golden boy, his blond hair catching the light, his smile a practiced masterpiece. We had grown up together. We had built sandcastles at summer homes, complained about tutors, and had long known our futures were entwined.
The sight of him now was a physical blow. My traitorous heart clenched, not with the fondness of shared history, but with the visceral memory of his betrayal. The cold touch of his hand as he shoved me. The clinical way he dismissed our child.
He saw me, and his practiced smile shifted into something more genuine, more familiar. "Elara! There you are. I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost." His eyes swept over my dress, and the familiarity in his gaze faltered, replaced by surprise and a flicker of male appreciation. "You look… different."
"Liam," I said, my voice a calm lake surface hiding turbulent depths. I did not offer my hand. I did not smile. I simply met his gaze, and for a fleeting second, I saw a crack in his composure. He was expecting the girl he knew. He was faced with a stranger.
It was in that moment of his confusion that Chloe struck.
"Oh, my goodness! This place is incredible!" she gushed, stepping forward, a vision of silver and wide-eyed admiration. She deliberately positioned herself between Liam and me. "You must be Liam. I'm Chloe. I've heard so much about you from Elara. She said you were brilliant, but she didn't mention how handsome you are."
She laughed, a tinkling, artificial sound, and placed a delicate hand on his arm, and fluttered her long, extended eyelashes.
Liam, momentarily distracted, chuckled. "Well, I hope she said more about my brilliant mind than my face." His gaze lingered on Chloe, on her obvious, uncomplicated admiration. It was a balm to the odd tension I had created.
I watched, my stomach a knot of cold fury and grim satisfaction. How could I not have noticed? These small seemingly unintentional actions. I wonder when was it that they got involved with each other... Was it before I got engaged to Liam?
I walked away from them, I needed a breather. Seeing both Chloe and Liam together, made my stomach twist. I walked to a nearby mocktail tower, took a glass, and stood at a corner, casually swirling the contents of my glass, while looking at the people walking around, chatting. My eyes stopped at the other corner of the room, where a man stood, looking intently at me while he sipped on his whisky. He looked familiar, and was incredibly handsome. Dark hair, thick eyebrows, tall and wearing a well fitted suit. I raised my glass at him and smiled, as I recalled who it was - Kaelen Vancourt, Liam's uncle.