The scent of blood filled the air. It was thick, metallic, and suffocating. The cold stone floor beneath her knees was damp with her own crimson lifeblood, seeping from the deep wounds that marred her once-flawless skin. Lady Sapphira Ravenshade, the once-beloved daughter of Duke Ravenshade, was now nothing more than a prisoner awaiting execution.

Her wrists were bound tightly in rusted iron chains, chafing against her delicate skin. Her once-lavish silk gown, the color of moonlight, was torn and stained with grime. Strands of her long, raven-black hair clung to her face, damp with sweat and tears.

Before her, on the raised dais of the grand royal court, sat the very people who had orchestrated her downfall.

At the center was Prince Cedric Aurelius, the man she had once loved with all her heart. His golden hair gleamed under the flickering torchlight, his striking emerald eyes—once filled with adoration—now held nothing but cold detachment. The very same lips that once whispered sweet promises to her now curled into a cruel smirk.

Beside him sat Lady Selena Ravenshade, her own sister. Dressed in an elaborate gown, her beauty was undeniable, but her heart was as black as the abyss. She held onto Cedric’s arm possessively, her sapphire-blue eyes gleaming with triumph as she leaned into the prince—the same prince who had once sworn loyalty and love to Sapphira.

And then, standing smugly at their side, was Lady Lilian Montclair—Sapphira’s childhood best friend. The girl who had once vowed to stand by her side for eternity was now whispering venom into the prince’s ear, spinning lies that had sealed Sapphira’s fate.

"Sapphira Ravenshade," the king’s voice boomed across the hall. "For your crimes of treason against the royal family, you have been sentenced to death by execution."

Laughter erupted from the crowd of nobles gathered in the hall. Their jeweled hands covered their lips as they whispered cruel words.

"A noble daughter turned traitor? How pitiful."

"She deserves this. Imagine scheming against the prince himself!"

"Serves her right for being too proud."

Sapphira wanted to scream, to fight, to claw her way to freedom. But it was useless. No one would believe her. They had all turned against her.

Her heart ached, not just from betrayal, but from the sheer injustice of it all.

"I never committed treason," she whispered, her voice hoarse from days of imprisonment. "I never betrayed anyone…"

Selena let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Oh, dear sister," she purred, stepping down from the dais. "How naive you are. Did you really think Prince Cedric loved you?"

Sapphira's fists clenched. Yes. He did. Once.

Selena leaned in, her lips brushing against Sapphira’s ear as she whispered, "You were just a stepping stone for me. I took everything from you—your love, your title, your life. And the best part?" She pulled away, a wicked smile stretching across her perfect face. "You let me."

Rage boiled inside Sapphira, but the guards yanked her back before she could lunge at her sister.

"Enough," Cedric said lazily. He stood, stretching his arms before placing a hand around Selena’s waist. "The execution will proceed at dawn."

The finality of his words hit Sapphira like a hammer. There would be no last-minute rescue. No mercy. This was the end.

She was dragged to the execution grounds before sunrise. The sky was a dark shade of purple, and the cold wind bit at her skin. A crowd had gathered, eager to witness the disgrace of the once-proud Lady Ravenshade.

A guillotine stood at the center, its sharp blade gleaming in the faint morning light.

The executioner loomed over her, faceless beneath his hood. "Any last words?"

Sapphira lifted her head. Her sapphire eyes, once filled with warmth, now burned with something else entirely—hatred.

"You think you've won?" she whispered, her voice steady. She turned her gaze to Selena, to Cedric, to Lilian. "I swear upon my soul… if I ever get another chance, I will make you all suffer a fate worse than mine."

Selena laughed. "A dead woman makes empty threats."

The blade fell.

Pain.

Darkness.

Silence.

Heat. A scorching heat unlike anything she had ever known.

Sapphira gasped, her body jolting upright as if she had just surfaced from drowning. Her lungs burned, and her skin tingled with something foreign yet familiar—life.

She was alive.

Frantic, her hands shot up to her throat. No wound. No blood. No pain. Her fingers trailed over the soft, unblemished skin where the executioner’s blade should have torn through.

Her wide sapphire eyes darted around the room. This place… It was familiar. The grand bedroom, adorned with elegant drapes of deep blue and silver, the ornate vanity mirror reflecting the golden glow of morning sunlight, the large canopy bed with its velvet sheets—this was her childhood room. The room she had left behind years before her downfall.

Her breath hitched. Impossible.

She stumbled out of bed, her legs weak but her mind racing. She hurried to the mirror, gripping the wooden edges so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The reflection staring back at her sent a cold chill down her spine.

She was young.

Seventeen. The same age she had been before her life began to spiral into hell.

Her long, dark raven hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves. Her porcelain skin, untouched by the scars of betrayal and imprisonment, was smooth once more. And her sapphire-blue eyes, though filled with lingering terror, gleamed with something new—a dangerous, unyielding fire.

She stumbled back, heart pounding. Was this a dream? A cruel illusion before death?

Just then, a knock echoed through the door.

"Lady Sapphira?" A soft voice called from the other side. "Are you awake, my lady?"

That voice.

Marie.

Sapphira’s eyes widened. Marie was her personal maid—the only person in her household who had ever remained loyal to her. She had cried at Sapphira’s execution, screaming for mercy even as the guards dragged her away.

But Marie had died a year after Sapphira’s execution, falsely accused of aiding a traitor.

Yet, she was here. Alive.

Sapphira’s lips parted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Marie…?"

The door creaked open, and a young girl with chestnut-brown hair peered inside. The same gentle face, the same warm hazel eyes filled with concern.

"Are you unwell, my lady?" Marie stepped inside, setting down a tray of tea and warm bread. "You look pale."

Sapphira couldn’t breathe. This was real. The gods had not abandoned her.

She had returned.

A slow, cold smile spread across her lips. She had been given another chance.

This time, she would not be a fool.

This time, they would pay.

Sapphira sat by the tall window of her chamber, her hands resting lightly on the silk fabric of her gown. The morning sun streamed in, casting a golden glow on the elegant furniture and polished marble floor. Outside, the estate grounds stretched far and wide—lush gardens filled with roses, well-trimmed hedges, and the distant view of the training grounds where knights practiced their swordplay.

It was a beautiful sight, one she had once taken for granted.

But now, everything looked different.

Because she knew the future.

Sapphira’s sapphire-blue eyes reflected the distant past—or rather, the cruel fate that had once awaited her. She could still remember the cold iron of the prison chains, the laughter of the nobles as they watched her downfall, and the sharp pain when the executioner’s blade fell.

Her fingers curled into a fist.

Not this time.

She had been granted another life. And she would not let history repeat itself.

The betrayals would come, she knew that well. But now, she had something she didn’t before—knowledge.

She had time.

And she had power.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"My lady, may I enter?"

It was Marie again.

Sapphira took a deep breath, pushing away the haunting memories. "Come in."

The door opened, and Marie stepped inside, carrying a tray of fresh tea and pastries. The scent of warm honey and lavender filled the room. "I brought your favorites, my lady."

Sapphira’s gaze softened. Marie had always been thoughtful. She had remained loyal, even when everyone else abandoned her.

She had died for her loyalty.

Sapphira would not let that happen again.

"Thank you, Marie," she said sincerely. She took the teacup and sipped the warm liquid, savoring the taste.

Marie, unaware of her lady’s inner turmoil, gave a small smile. "My lady, I heard that Duke Ravenshade is expected to return today from the capital."

Sapphira stilled. Her father.

Duke Julius Ravenshade. A powerful man, respected by the nobility and feared by his enemies. He had once been a great protector, a strong presence in her life.

Yet, in the past, she had trusted the wrong people instead of listening to him.

And by the time she had realized the truth, it had been too late.

This time, she would make sure she had her father’s full support. She would not let Selena twist his opinions against her.

"Marie," she said, setting down her teacup. "Prepare a suitable dress for me. I wish to greet my father personally upon his return."

Marie blinked in surprise but quickly nodded. "Of course, my lady."

Sapphira gazed out the window once more.

Her first move would begin today.

---

Later That Day

The grand gates of the Ravenshade estate creaked open, and a row of carriages rolled into the courtyard. Horses neighed, their hooves clattering against the stone pavement. Soldiers and knights lined up in disciplined formation, ready to greet their master.

Sapphira stood at the entrance of the grand estate, dressed in an elegant navy-blue gown embroidered with silver threads. Her raven-black hair was neatly styled, adorned with a delicate sapphire pin. She stood tall, poised, the very image of a noble daughter.

The first carriage door opened, and Duke Julius Ravenshade stepped out.

A towering man with sharp features, storm-gray eyes, and hair the same deep black as Sapphira’s. His presence was imposing—not just because of his status but because of the sheer power he carried.

This was a man feared on the battlefield. A man who commanded loyalty with just a glance.

And this was the man Sapphira had foolishly distanced herself from in the past.

Her father’s gaze swept over the gathered servants, then landed on her.

For a moment, he simply stared.

Sapphira held her ground.

In the past, she had never greeted him like this. She had been too blinded by her love for Cedric, too absorbed in petty noble affairs to truly appreciate her father’s role in her life.

She would not make that mistake again.

The duke finally spoke. "Sapphira." His deep voice carried across the courtyard.

A faint smile formed on her lips. "Welcome home, Father."

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He was not a man easily shaken, but Sapphira could tell—this was not what he had expected.

He took slow steps toward her, his heavy cloak billowing slightly with the wind. "I did not expect you to greet me."

"In the past, I have been careless," she admitted smoothly. "But I wish to change that."

A sharp glint flickered in the duke’s gray eyes. He was a man who had spent years in court politics, dealing with manipulative nobles and power-hungry factions. He could smell deceit.

But Sapphira wasn’t lying. She meant every word.

And he knew it.

"Hm," he muttered, his expression unreadable. "Let’s talk inside."

Sapphira nodded and followed him into the grand estate.

The moment they stepped into his private study, the air grew heavy.

The duke turned to her, arms crossed. "Tell me the truth."

Sapphira met his gaze, unwavering. "What truth, Father?"

"You’ve changed." His voice was sharp. "Your usual arrogance, your childish temper, your obsession with the Crown Prince—all of it is gone. I’ve only been away for two months. What happened?"

Sapphira inhaled slowly.

She couldn’t tell him the truth.

She couldn’t say, I was executed, betrayed, and abandoned. I was reborn and given another chance to correct my mistakes.

But she could use this opportunity to win his trust.

She lowered her gaze slightly. "I’ve come to realize how naive I was, Father."

The duke’s brows furrowed.

"I have been reckless. I thought love was enough to protect me, that the prince’s affection meant safety," she continued. "But I was wrong. Power, reputation, and strength—that is what truly matters."

A long silence followed.

Then, slowly, Duke Ravenshade smirked.

"Good," he said.

Sapphira blinked, caught off guard.

Her father chuckled, a deep, amused sound. "I was beginning to think you were a lost cause." He stepped closer, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "But it seems my daughter has finally grown up."

Sapphira’s heart clenched.

She had wasted so much of her past life chasing illusions. But now, she had a second chance.

And she would not waste it.

Sapphira walked through the grand halls of the Ravenshade estate, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Servants bowed as she passed, but she paid them little mind.

Her conversation with her father had gone better than expected. Duke Ravenshade was no fool. He saw her change and, rather than questioning it, he approved.

Good.

In her past life, she had distanced herself from her father, believing that love—Cedric’s love—would be enough to protect her.

What a fool she had been.

This time, she would not be some lovesick girl blindly throwing away her power.

This time, she would be the one holding the knife.

And the first people to fall on that blade would be the very ones who had betrayed her.

Her sister and her best friend.

Sapphira made her way to the grand sitting room, where a servant had informed her that Lady Selena had returned from her afternoon stroll.

Selena Ravenshade. Her beloved younger sister.

The same sister who had smiled sweetly while seducing the Crown Prince. The same sister who had pretended to weep at Sapphira’s execution, only to steal everything from her the moment she was gone.

A viper in silk and lace.

But this time, Sapphira was ready for her bite.

She stepped into the sitting room, her expression calm, her posture poised.

Selena sat gracefully on the velvet chaise, sipping tea as though she were a princess. Her golden-blonde hair gleamed under the light, and her emerald-green eyes sparkled with artificial innocence. She had the delicate beauty of an angel—one that had deceived even Sapphira in the past.

But now, all Sapphira saw was a liar.

"Sister!" Selena’s voice was as sweet as honey. She set down her teacup and smiled brightly. "I heard you greeted Father today. How unusual for you."

Sapphira tilted her head slightly, a small, knowing smile forming on her lips. "Is it?"

Selena’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second—so quick that anyone else would have missed it.

But Sapphira saw everything.

"Oh, no, of course not," Selena said, laughing lightly. "It’s just that you’ve never been so… dutiful before."

There it was.

The first test.

In her past life, Sapphira would have scoffed or ignored Selena’s words, unknowingly walking into her traps.

But now?

Now, she would play along.

Sapphira gracefully sat across from her sister, picking up a teacup but not drinking. She studied Selena carefully—her posture, the way her fingers tapped against the china, the way her eyes flickered to Sapphira’s dress.

She was calculating.

Waiting to see if Sapphira was still the fool she had once been.

Sapphira met her gaze with a soft chuckle. "You’re right, Selena. I suppose I’ve been… childish before."

Selena’s eyes narrowed—just for a second.

She had not expected that.

"But people change," Sapphira continued smoothly, setting her cup down with delicate precision. "And I’ve realized that family is the most important thing."

Selena’s lips parted slightly, caught off guard. Then, just as quickly, she masked her surprise.

"Oh, sister," she said, reaching out to touch Sapphira’s hand. "I’m so glad to hear that."

Sapphira’s fingers tightened around hers. Not too much—just enough to make her feel a slight pressure.

Enough to remind Selena that she was not the same naive girl anymore.

Selena stiffened.

Sapphira smiled.

Let the game begin.

---

Selena was dangerous, but there was another snake waiting in the shadows.

Genevieve Aldrin.

Sapphira’s childhood best friend. A girl with soft brown curls and warm brown eyes—eyes that had once glowed with fake kindness.

Genevieve had been her most trusted confidante. She had been there through everything—laughing at Sapphira’s jokes, listening to her secrets, whispering sweet words of comfort.

And all the while, she had been selling those secrets to the Crown Prince.

To Cedric.

To Selena.

The pain of that betrayal had been a dagger to Sapphira’s heart.

But this time?

This time, she would not let Genevieve fool her.

She sent a servant to summon her. A few moments later, Genevieve arrived, entering the grand hall with the same bright, cheerful smile she had always worn.

"Sapphira!" Genevieve rushed forward, her voice filled with warmth. "I haven’t seen you in days! Have you been unwell?"

Sapphira smiled. "Not at all. I was simply reflecting on some things."

Genevieve tilted her head, curious. "Reflecting?"

"Yes," Sapphira said lightly. "About my true friends."

For just a moment, Genevieve’s fingers twitched.

Interesting.

Sapphira gestured to the seat beside her. "Come, Genevieve. Sit with me. We have much to talk about."

Genevieve hesitated—but only for a fraction of a second. Then, she beamed and gracefully took her seat. "Of course! You know you can talk to me about anything."

Sapphira smiled, tilting her head slightly.

"Yes," she murmured. "I know."

Genevieve didn’t realize it yet.

But the trap was already set.

---

Sapphira sat in the grand drawing room, her fingers lazily trailing along the rim of her teacup. Across from her, Genevieve sat with her usual bright smile, her warm brown eyes filled with practiced innocence.

To any outsider, they looked like two noble ladies enjoying a pleasant afternoon.

But beneath the surface, a battle had already begun.

Sapphira had spent an entire lifetime trusting this woman. She had believed Genevieve was her closest friend—her only friend.

And yet, Genevieve had been the first to sell her out.

She had whispered secrets to Selena. She had laughed behind Sapphira’s back. She had stood in the crowd when Sapphira was dragged to her execution.

This time, Sapphira would not be the fool.

This time, she was the hunter—and Genevieve was the prey.

"Genevieve," Sapphira began sweetly, setting down her teacup. "I’ve been thinking a lot about the past lately."

Genevieve’s smile remained, but Sapphira saw the slight stiffening of her shoulders.

"Have you?" Genevieve asked, her voice light and casual.

"Yes," Sapphira said, tilting her head slightly. "Especially about my friendships."

Genevieve let out a soft laugh. "Oh, Sapphira, you’ve always had many admirers. Even if some noble ladies were jealous of you, your true friends have always remained by your side."

Sapphira’s lips curved slightly.

"True friends, indeed," she murmured. "But tell me, Genevieve…"

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand.

"What would you do if I were betrayed?"

Genevieve’s fingers tensed around her teacup.

But she recovered quickly.

"Betrayed?" Genevieve repeated, forcing out a chuckle. "Sapphira, why would you ask such a thing?"

Sapphira studied her.

Every lie Genevieve told, every fake smile, every forced laugh—Sapphira saw it all.

How did I never notice before?

"Humor me," Sapphira said lightly, stirring her tea. "Let’s say I was deceived by someone I trusted. Let’s say I was humiliated. Broken. What would you have done?"

Genevieve’s smile faltered.

"I…"

Sapphira watched her struggle for the right answer.

In the past, Genevieve had never been questioned. She had always hidden behind sweet words and innocent eyes.

But now?

Now, Sapphira was forcing her to think.

Genevieve swallowed. "Of course, I would always take your side, Sapphira."

Sapphira smiled.

A slow, knowing smile.

"Would you?"

Genevieve’s breath hitched.

Just for a second.

But it was enough.

Sapphira had confirmed it.

Genevieve was nervous. She felt cornered.

Good.

Now, all Sapphira had to do was push her further.

Sapphira leaned back in her chair, sighing dramatically. "You see, Genevieve, I’ve been hearing rumors lately."

Genevieve’s hands clenched in her lap.

"Rumors?" she repeated.

Sapphira nodded, swirling her tea. "Yes. It seems there are people around me who aren’t as loyal as they claim to be."

She looked up—her piercing blue eyes locking onto Genevieve’s brown ones.

Genevieve froze.

It was just for a second.

But Sapphira saw it.

The fear.

The panic.

The guilt.

Genevieve quickly forced another laugh. "Oh, Sapphira, you know how people love to talk. You mustn’t take such gossip seriously!"

Sapphira hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But you know what they say…"

She set down her teacup and smiled.

"Every rumor has a grain of truth."

Genevieve blanched.

For the first time, she had no response.

Sapphira had planted the first seed.

And she would watch it grow into fear.

Later that evening, Sapphira returned to her chambers, satisfied.

Genevieve was shaken.

She would not act carelessly now. She would second-guess herself. And when people were afraid, they made mistakes.

And mistakes were what Sapphira needed.

As she sat at her vanity, brushing her long raven-black hair, a soft knock came at the door.

"My lady," Marie’s voice came from the other side. "Lady Selena is requesting to see you."

Sapphira’s lips curved slightly.

She had been expecting this.

"Let her in."

The door opened, and Selena entered, gliding into the room with her usual graceful deceit.

"Sister," Selena said sweetly, closing the door behind her. "I thought we should have a little… chat."

Sapphira turned in her chair, facing her sister with an innocent smile. "Oh? About what?"

Selena walked toward the window, pretending to admire the moonlit gardens. "I couldn’t help but notice… you’ve been acting rather differently lately."

Sapphira chuckled. "Have I?"

Selena turned, her green eyes sharp.

"You have. And not just me—others are noticing too."

Sapphira merely tilted her head. "Is that so?"

Selena took a slow step forward. "I just want to make sure…"

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Sapphira’s shoulder.

"That you haven’t… forgotten your place."

Sapphira’s smile didn’t waver.

But inside, she was laughing.

How daring of Selena—to think she could still intimidate her.

In the past, this might have worked.

But now?

Now, Sapphira was the one holding the knife.

And it was time to remind Selena of that.

She stood up slowly, towering just a bit over her younger sister.

She reached up, gently grasping Selena’s wrist.

Selena blinked, startled.

Sapphira leaned in, whispering softly into her ear.

"Oh, dear sister," she murmured. "You should be careful…"

Her grip tightened—just enough to make Selena’s eyes widen.

"You wouldn’t want to end up like the others."

Selena stiffened.

Her breathing hitched.

And for the first time, she looked afraid.

Sapphira stepped back, smiling sweetly. "Shall I have Marie bring us some tea?"

Selena forced a tight smile. "No need. I suddenly feel quite tired."

She turned sharply and left the room—her composure cracked.

As soon as the door shut, Sapphira let out a soft chuckle.

Selena and Genevieve were both on edge now.

And this was just the beginning.

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silver glow over the Ravenshade estate. The air was crisp, carrying the distant scent of blooming roses from the garden. Inside her chamber, Sapphira stood before her mirror, deep in thought.

She had successfully planted seeds of fear in both Selena and Genevieve. They were wary now—watching their steps, second-guessing themselves.

But this was only the beginning.

True revenge was not rushed—it was a game of patience.

She would let them believe they still had control. She would let them breathe… for now.

And when the time came—she would tighten the noose.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

Marie entered, bowing slightly. "My lady, the Duke requests your presence in the study."

Sapphira raised a brow.

Father? At this hour?

Duke Ravenshade was not the type to summon people for idle conversation. If he wished to speak with her at such a late hour, it meant something important had happened.

"Very well," she said, placing her brush down. "Let’s not keep him waiting."

Sapphira stepped into her father’s study, the scent of old parchment and leather filling the room. The Duke sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable.

But it was not him that caught her attention.

It was the man standing beside him.

Tall and imposing, the stranger exuded an air of quiet confidence. He was dressed in dark clothing, his long black coat embroidered with silver thread. His raven-black hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck, allowing a few strands to frame his sharp, chiseled features.

And his eyes—a deep, piercing crimson—held an intensity that sent a shiver down Sapphira’s spine.

Who was he?

Before she could speak, the Duke motioned toward the man.

"Sapphira, I want you to meet Lord Lucian Vale."

Lucian Vale.

The name was unfamiliar.

But the way he stood—calm, unshaken, powerful—told her that he was no ordinary noble.

Sapphira lowered herself into a graceful curtsy. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Vale."

Lucian studied her for a moment before offering a small, polite nod. "Likewise, Lady Sapphira."

His voice was smooth—velvety, but laced with something unreadable.

Her father’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he spoke again. "Lord Vale is an honored guest of the Ravenshade family. He will be staying at the estate for the time being."

Sapphira frowned slightly. An honored guest?

Her father rarely allowed outsiders into their home.

Which meant this man was important.

But why?

Sapphira turned back to Lucian, her curiosity growing.

"And what brings you to Ravenshade, Lord Vale?" she asked, keeping her tone polite but inquisitive.

Lucian’s lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, but something close.

"Business," he said simply.

Vague.

Carefully worded.

Sapphira’s mind began to race.

Was he a foreign noble? A military commander? Perhaps a secret informant?

Or… something more?

The Duke cleared his throat, drawing her attention back. "I expect you to treat Lord Vale with the same respect you would a member of our house. He is a valuable ally."

Ally?

That word caught her attention.

Her father was a powerful man, but he did not trust easily. If he considered this man an ally, then Lucian Vale was not just a noble.

He was dangerous.

Sapphira’s eyes flickered back to Lucian, who met her gaze without hesitation.

For the first time in a long while, she felt a strange tension.

It wasn’t fear.

Nor was it unease.

It was intrigue.

And something deep inside her whispered—

This man… will change everything.

Later that night, as Sapphira walked through the quiet halls, she heard the soft sound of footsteps behind her.

She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Lucian.

He had been watching her all evening.

Not in an obvious way. Not in a way that would cause suspicion.

But she had felt it.

The weight of his gaze. The way his eyes followed her movements.

It was subtle.

But Sapphira was no fool.

She slowed her pace, allowing him to catch up.

"Lord Vale," she greeted smoothly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "Taking a late-night stroll?"

Lucian let out a quiet chuckle. "I could ask the same of you, my lady."

Sapphira smirked. "I live here. You, on the other hand, are a guest."

Lucian hummed. "True. But sometimes, the best way to understand a place…"

He turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"…is to observe the people within it."

Sapphira’s smile didn’t waver, but inside, she felt a spark of challenge.

This man was not simple.

He was calculating. Sharp.

And he was studying her.

Just as she was studying him.

"Then I hope you find what you’re looking for," she said, tilting her head slightly.

Lucian’s gaze lingered on her.

"I already have," he murmured.

Sapphira’s breath hitched—only for a second.

But it was enough.

Lucian noticed.

And for the first time in years…

Sapphira felt her heart waver.

---