This time, Ariella only smiled. "You're such a good friend, Lena. Always so… protective."
Selena's lips curved, but her eyes flashed.
Protective? Or possessive?
As they reached the fountain, Ariella's steps slowed. A shadow flickered at the edge of the hedges.
She stiffened.
Someone was watching them.
She didn't turn her head, didn't reveal she had noticed. But she caught the faint outline of a man in servant's livery, half-hidden in the greenery.
Ethan's spy.
In her past life, she would never have noticed. But now, every sense was sharpened, honed by betrayal and death.
So… Ethan has already set his claws. Watching me. Watching us.
Her heart beat faster, but not with fear. With anticipation.
Because now, she knew the game had truly begun.
Selena clasped her arm, drawing her closer with a sisterly smile. "Promise me, Ella, you won't let little worries trouble you. You're lucky to be loved by such a man. So many envy you."
Ariella turned her head, meeting her friend's gaze directly. For the first time, she let a shard of steel glint through her gentle mask.
"Then I suppose I should learn to guard what's mine," she said softly, her voice threaded with hidden meaning. "After all, envy can be dangerous."
Selena's smile faltered. Just for an instant.
And Ariella felt a thrill of dark satisfaction.
That night, lying in bed with the moonlight spilling through her curtains, Ariella replayed every moment. Selena's unease. Ethan's probing words. The spy in the garden.
They thought she was still blind.
They thought she was still theirs to mold.
But now…
Her lips curved into a cold smile in the darkness.
"This time, I will not only survive," she whispered. "This time, I will hunt."
The rose she had plucked earlier lay on her nightstand. Its petals glowed faintly silver in the moonlight, perfect and delicate. She reached out, touched its softness then pressed her finger to the thorn until blood welled at the tip.
Pain. Sharp, fleeting, real.
A reminder.
Of what she had lost.
Of what she would take back.
Of who she would destroy.
Selena. Ethan.
Her dearest betrayers.
Her first targets.
The Lancaster carriage rattled down the gravel path until its sound faded into the evening air. From the balcony of her chambers, Ariella watched the golden crest vanish beyond the gates, her fingers drumming lightly on the railing.
Ethan had left her with flowers, with words sweet as honey, with promises that tasted like poison. Selena had lingered just long enough to lace her mind with subtle needles, then departed with her usual affectionate smile.
Everything was exactly as it had been before.
And yet, everything was different.
Because this time, Ariella saw the strings.
And this time, she would not be their puppet.
She turned back into her room, her skirts whispering across the marble floor. On her writing desk lay the rose she had worn in her hair that afternoon, its petals beginning to wilt. She touched it gently, then pressed it flat between the pages of a leather-bound journal.
A memory keeper. A record of this second life.
If I am to win, I must remember every detail. Every slip of their tongues. Every hidden glance. Nothing must escape me.
Later that evening, Maria entered with a tray of supper.
Ariella studied the maid carefully as she set down the silver dishes. Maria's face was gentle as always, her eyes filled with quiet devotion. But Ariella remembered how, in her first life, she had dismissed the woman's cautious warnings. She had waved off her loyal concern until it was too late.
She would not make that mistake again.
"Maria," Ariella said softly.
The maid paused, bowing her head. "Yes, miss?"
Ariella's fingers traced the rim of her goblet. "You have served me for many years. Do you remember, when I was younger, how you scolded me for trusting too easily?"
Maria's eyes widened faintly. "I… yes, miss. Forgive me. I overstepped then."
"No." Ariella's gaze softened, but her voice was firm. "You were right."
The maid blinked, startled by the admission. Ariella had never spoken so humbly before.
"I want you to do something for me, Maria," Ariella continued, leaning forward slightly. "Something only between us."
Maria hesitated. "Of course, miss. Anything."
"Watch," Ariella whispered. Her eyes gleamed with quiet fire. "Not just the servants of this house, but the guests who come and go. Tell me what they say when they think no one listens. Especially… about Lord Ethan. About Lady Selena."
Maria's lips parted in shock. In all the years she had served Ariella, never once had her mistress asked her to spy.
But now, the girl before her was different colder, sharper, her beauty edged with steel.
"Can I trust you, Maria?" Ariella asked, her voice dropping lower.
The maid swallowed hard, then sank to one knee, bowing her head. "Always, my lady. My life is yours."
Ariella's chest ached with something she hadn't expected gratitude. In her last life, she had overlooked Maria's devotion. In this one, she would treasure it.
"Rise," Ariella said softly, touching the woman's shoulder. "Then you shall be my eyes and ears."
As Maria stood, determination in her gaze, Ariella knew: her first thread had been woven.
That night, sleep evaded her. She lay in bed, staring at the canopy, the sound of the wind stirring the curtains.
Her mind churned.
Ethan had his spies. Selena had her whispers. Together, they had moved pieces on the board until Ariella was surrounded, betrayed, destroyed.
But what they had never expected… was for Ariella to fight back.
She would not rush. She would not strike blindly.
No, her revenge would be like embroidery slow, delicate, deliberate. Each stitch is precise. Each thread laid with purpose.
And by the time the picture was complete, Ethan and Selena would be bound so tightly they would choke on their own web.
Her lips curved in the darkness, her heart steady and cold.
This is only the beginning.
The first thread is woven.