The gravel path crunched beneath my slippers as I followed the maid through the marble corridor. My heart was hammering in my chest like it was trying to break out of my ribcage.
This was it.
The infamous garden scene. Chapter 2 of My Sweet Revenge, word for word.
The one where Elizabeth "accidentally" finds the crown prince feeding roses to a white peacock. She laughs, he smiles, and just like that, the story seals their fate. From that moment on, she's the one he's enchanted by—and Isabella? Left in the dust, humiliated and invisible.
Not this time.
"Your Highness," the maid said as she opened the door to the garden, bowing again. "His Royal Highness is just ahead."
I stepped out into the sunlight. It was brighter than I expected, golden and hazy, like the world was painted in soft light. The royal garden stretched before me in full bloom—tall hedges, delicate fountains, and a maze of red and white roses.
And at the center of it all stood him.
The crown prince.
Even knowing what he looked like from the book hadn't prepared me.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with soft chestnut hair tousled just enough to look effortless. He wore an ivory tunic with gold embroidery, and a rapier hung casually from his side. He wasn't feeding a peacock—not yet. Instead, he stood near a rose bush, plucking a dead petal and examining it like it had whispered a secret.
He hadn't seen me yet.
This was my window.
My moment.
In the original book, Isabella was late—on purpose. Elizabeth had bribed the maid to delay her. But now? I was early. I had beaten Elizabeth here.
I swallowed the nerves rising in my throat and stepped forward.
"Your Highness," I said, bowing as gracefully as I could without tripping over my own feet.
The prince turned.
Our eyes met.
His were a stormy gray, intelligent and unreadable, the kind of eyes that made you feel like he already knew your secrets.
"You're… early," he said, his voice low and calm. "I was told you'd be arriving later."
I tilted my head. "I suppose I was too eager to wait."
His brows lifted slightly, amused. "Is that so? Eager to see me?"
Damn. He was charming. And quick.
"Well," I said, choosing my words carefully, "I figured if I'm expected to compete for your attention, I might as well have a fair head start."
There was a pause.
His expression didn't change, but I felt something in the air shift.
Then he chuckled.
A deep, quiet sound that somehow made the birds in the trees stop singing for just a second.
"I admire honesty," he said, stepping closer. "And boldness."
This was already different from the book. In the original story, Isabella had barely spoken two words to him before Elizabeth swept in and took control of the conversation. But now? I had his attention. I could feel it.
He looked at the roses beside him. "These are called bleeding hearts. Beautiful, but fragile. They bloom quickly… and die just as fast."
"Then they're a little like romance," I said without thinking.
His eyes flicked back to mine, sharp and curious. "Do you think love fades that easily?"
"Not if it's real," I replied. "But I think some people fall in love with the idea of someone. And when the fantasy fades… so do their feelings."
I watched him, waiting.
He didn't smile this time.
Instead, he studied me like I was something unfamiliar—something unexpected.
"Lady Isabella," he said slowly, "you're not what I was told you'd be."
That's when it hit me. Hard.
In this world, even before the "competition" began, I already had a reputation. Isabella was known as quiet. Jealous. Always in her sister's shadow. A nuisance.
But I wasn't that girl anymore.
"I've decided to change," I said, meeting his gaze. "Starting today."
A faint smile ghosted across his lips. "Then I'll consider myself lucky to witness the transformation."
I opened my mouth to respond—but then I heard it.
The click of heels on marble.
I turned my head just in time to see her.
Elizabeth.
Radiant, perfect, draped in soft lavender silk and feigned innocence. She smiled at the prince as if she hadn't calculated her entrance down to the second.
"Your Highness," she said sweetly. "Forgive me. I didn't realize we had a guest already."
The prince nodded politely, but his eyes lingered on me.
Elizabeth's gaze shifted to me as well—and narrowed, just a little. It was the first crack in her flawless mask.
"I thought you slept late, sister," she said smoothly. "How unlike you to be up before noon."
I smiled right back. "It's a new habit I'm forming."
"I see." She turned to the prince, tilting her head just enough to make her earrings sparkle. "Shall we walk? I'd love to hear about the royal hunt you've planned."
But the prince didn't immediately offer her his arm.
Instead, he looked at both of us. "A walk sounds pleasant. Perhaps all three of us should stroll together?"
Elizabeth's eyes flickered.
That hadn't been in the script.
Not at all.
And as I stepped beside the prince, taking my place without waiting for permission, I felt something twist deliciously in my chest.
The story was already changing.
And this time, I wasn't going to be written out.