The next morning, I didn't cry. Alexander wanted me to be Isabella? Fine. If that was the price for my father's life, I would play the role better than anyone.
I put on the emerald green dress he had left for me. It was vintage, smelling faintly of the past. As I looked in the mirror, I didn't see Elena anymore. I saw a weapon.
I walked down to the dining hall where Alexander was having coffee with his lawyer. When I entered, the lawyer's pen dropped. Alexander's hand froze mid-air, his eyes widening as they scanned me. For a split second, I saw raw, unfiltered pain in his expression before the cold mask returned.
"You're late," he said, though his voice lacked its usual bite.
"A queen is never late, Alexander. Everyone else is simply early," I replied, using a line I'd read in one of the old books in the library. I sat down, gracefully pouring myself tea.
The lawyer cleared his throat. "Mr. Blackwood, we need to discuss the prenuptial—"
"There will be no prenuptial," I interrupted, staring Alexander straight in the eye.
Alexander narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"
"Isabella wouldn't sign a prenuptial, would she? She trusted you," I whispered, leaning in. "If you want the world to believe I am her, you have to treat me like her. That means full access to the Blackwood accounts and a seat at the board meeting tomorrow."
The lawyer looked terrified. Alexander leaned back, a dangerous smirk forming on his lips. "You're getting bold, Elena. Do you think a green dress gives you power?"
"I think knowing your weakness gives me power," I smiled, though my heart was racing. "And we both know Isabella was your only one."
He stood up, towering over me. "Careful. Playing with ghosts is a dangerous game. You might find yourself buried alongside them.