Episode 4: The Moment That Wasn’t Meant to Be

“Some stories are written with ink. Others are carved into bone.” — Unknown

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[Riven Ainsley’s POV]

There’s a particular kind of tension that settles into your chest when a man looks at you like he’s trying to solve you… and ruin you in the same breath.

Lucien Valehart is that man.

And I’ve had just about enough of him haunting my days like a tall, brooding, leather-bound existential crisis.

“You weren’t supposed to be here.”

Those words haven’t left me alone. They've echoed in the back of my skull ever since he said them.

What the hell did he mean?

Does he know?

Know what, exactly?

That I don’t belong in this world?

That I fell asleep reading this stupid straight romance novel and woke up wearing villain couture and a death flag?

I’ve kept my cool. I’ve kept the sass, the smirks, the "come at me, fate" attitude.

But I don’t like being seen. Not like that.

And Lucien saw me. Saw through me.

And that’s dangerous.

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The Incident: Garden Party Edition

Today is a disaster waiting to happen.

A garden party hosted by the royal family—an event that was supposed to be Aurelia’s “shining debut” in the court. Originally, in the book, she was to accidentally fall into the reflecting pool while being harassed by some arrogant noble. Lucien would dive in heroically, saving her, thus strengthening their bond.

Gross.

I intend to not be there.

But I am. Of course.

Because someone—I suspect Lucien—had my name added to the invitation list and personally assigned me a seat beside His Royal Glareyness himself.

I arrive in style. Flowing sapphire robes, boots polished to a mirror shine, and a smirk sharpened just for the occasion.

The nobles murmur. They always do. Half of them want me banished. The other half want to sleep with me and then have me banished.

“Lord Ainsley,” Lucien greets me as I take the seat next to him beneath a silk canopy. His voice is polite, distant, but those eyes are anything but.

“Your Highness,” I reply smoothly, accepting the goblet he offers. “Trying to poison me again? At least let me die with dessert this time.”

“No poison,” he says, watching me sip. “Not yet.”

Oh, he’s in a mood.

Across the party, Aurelia laughs like a golden bell, surrounded by fluttering nobles and jealous debutantes. She’s doing exactly what she’s supposed to.

For now.

But that’s not what has Lucien’s attention.

He’s looking at me.

Still.

Always.

And I finally snap.

“What are you staring at?”

“You,” he says, without hesitation.

I arch a brow. “You’ve developed a hobby, I see.”

“I like to study things that don’t make sense.”

“Ah, so you’ve given up on mirrors.”

Lucien’s lips twitch—almost a smile. It’s infuriating how attractive he is when he’s amused.

Then I see it.

A ripple of movement. A young noble—one of the book’s minor villains—is moving toward Aurelia. He’s too close. Too aggressive.

Right on cue.

This is it. The pool incident.

I should stay seated. Let the scene play out.

But I don’t.

Because Lucien doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink.

He's not going to save her.

Because he's watching me.

I stand before I even realize what I’m doing.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” I mutter, setting down my glass.

Lucien doesn’t stop me. Just says one thing, quiet, curious:

“Interesting.”

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I cross the garden swiftly and step between Aurelia and the noble before he can shove her toward the pool.

“Careful,” I say, grabbing the man’s wrist just hard enough to make him wince. “You’re about to make a fool of yourself. And worse—waste good wine.”

Aurelia blinks at me, confused.

The noble blusters, tries to save face, but my grip tightens just enough to remind him I’m not the foppish fool they all think I am.

“I’d suggest you walk away,” I whisper. “Unless you want to spend the next week drinking your meals through a straw.”

He leaves. Quickly.

Aurelia is stunned. “You... you saved me.”

I offer her a mock bow. “Don’t take it personally. I just hate wet shoes.”

But as I turn to walk away, I feel it.

Eyes.

Lucien. Still watching.

And for once, his expression isn’t neutral.

It’s…

Hungry.

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[Lucien Valehart’s POV]

He wasn’t supposed to move.

He was supposed to stay beside me. Sip wine. Whisper poison.

That was the version of this scene I remembered.

But he changed it again.

Riven stepped in. Altered the flow. Intervened.

That shouldn’t have happened.

And yet… it was the most exhilarating thing I’ve seen in this cursed loop of a story.

I don’t remember feeling anything the first time this party occurred.

I do now.

And it’s him.

Always him.

He walked away from the pool, wind tugging at his coat, head high, like a fallen god who’s still too proud to kneel.

And I thought—

I want to unravel him.

No.

I want to own him.

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[Later That Night – Riven’s Chambers]

The wine is sweet, the candles low, and the thoughts louder than I’d like.

I changed the story again. And Lucien let me.

Not just let. Encouraged.

But why?

That look in his eyes wasn’t confusion anymore.

It was fascination.

Worse—recognition.

He knew something.

And I’m starting to realize… he might not just be another character in this book.

He might be something else entirely.

Something that remembers.

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To Be Continued...

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