The corridors of Ardent Manor were colder than I remembered.
Or perhaps I simply felt it now.
Ten-year-old me used to run down these halls chasing approval—begging for it in silence. But today, I walked slowly. Eyes open. Heart steady.
Because I knew the truth.
This family never loved me.
Not once.
"Ah, the forgotten daughter has arrived," a voice sneered as I entered the dining hall.
Lucien Ardent.
My older brother. Firstborn son. Golden-haired and silver-tongued. Beloved by nobles. Poison in disguise.
He sipped tea, lazily draped in his velvet robes. Across from him, my second brother, Auren, ignored me entirely as he polished a jeweled ring.
The Count—my father—glanced up from his paper. His gaze brushed over me like a passing shadow. Then he went back to reading.
My mother didn't even bother to look.
Just like before.
The long, ornate table stretched before me like a battlefield. Food lined its surface—meats, fruits, pastries—but none of it tasted right. Not to me.
I took the seat at the far end.
The one no one else wanted.
"Did you sleep well, Evelyne?" Lucien asked sweetly, voice dripping with mockery.
I looked at him.
In the past, I would've stammered or scowled. Tried to prove I belonged.
Now?
I smiled.
"I did. Thank you, brother."
Lucien blinked, thrown off. "Oh? No dramatic tantrum this morning? No tears over your dream dress being the wrong color?"
Auren snorted.
I calmly reached for the bread.
"No tantrums," I said. "And I've outgrown frills."
Silence.
It was small—insignificant, really—but it was the first crack. The first shift. And I saw it. Confusion flickered in Lucien's gaze. Curiosity.
I ignored them.
I ate in silence.
Because I knew now: their words meant nothing. Their scorn meant less.
I wouldn't waste my second chance fighting battles that didn't matter.
Not when the real ones were still ahead.
Not when Elisse still needed saving.
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