Chapter 1

At the family banquet, my mother ordered the guards to drag me to the center of the hall.

“She’s a fraud,” she said calmly. “Strip her of any claim to this family and apologize to your sister.”

My brothers stood beside her, watching as my adopted cousin wore my gown, took my seat, and accepted the congratulations meant for me.

They accused me of stealing her identity, her engagement, even her place in this family.

In my past life, I was cast out as a disgrace that night and died alone.

This time, as their voices rose in accusation again, I smiled.

They didn’t know—I remembered everything.

When my brothers let their foster sister live my life, they thought I’d just accept it. Given another chance, I’d make sure she faced every consequence.

When I was eight, the family seer declared my fate was “too fragile” for the capital.

So, they sent me away to live in seclusion at Solitude Peak, a place rich with ancient energies.

I was supposed to stay until I turned eighteen.

But when I finally returned to the family estate, I discovered the truth:

For ten years, my so-called loving brothers had let their adopted foster sister, Mirabelle, live in my place, pretending to be me.

At the birthday gala of my fiancé, she had the gall to push it even further.

Mirabelle snatched the token of our engagement—a gift from my uncle, the King himself—and held it up for the room to see.

Pointing at me, she announced, her voice dripping with false sympathy:

“Lord Theron, I’m so sorry for this scene. Our… ward here doesn’t know her place. She dared to steal the engagement token the King gifted to us. She even tried to use it to impersonate me and deceive you. Don’t worry, once we’re home, my brothers will see to it she learns proper manners.”

If this had been my previous life, I would’ve swallowed the humiliation, desperate to win a shred of approval from my brothers and their darling “sister.”

But not this time.

Because this time… I had been reborn.

I stepped forward, snatched the engagement token from her hand, and threw it to the marble floor with a sharp crack.

Then, I slapped her across the face. The sound was so crisp the room fell dead silent.

“Mirabelle,” I said, my voice cold and clear in the sudden quiet, “you dare take what’s mine? You must be tired of your comfortable little life.”

Everyone froze, stunned by my actions. The silence was thick with shock as people exchanged uneasy glances.

Mirabelle, however, was completely thrown. She stumbled back, landing hard on the floor. For a split second, raw, venomous anger flashed in her eyes, but it vanished instantly, replaced by her usual wounded-doe act. She clutched her reddening cheek as tears pooled in her eyes.

“Elara,” she whimpered, her voice trembling perfectly, “I know you’ve… admired Lord Theron from afar, but you and he… you’re from different worlds. Please, don’t humiliate yourself like this.”

“Different worlds?” I echoed, taking another step forward. My gaze pinned her as I looked down at her carefully arranged misery on the floor. A cold smirk touched my lips.

“My mother was a princess of the royal bloodline. My father is Alistair Blackwood, the Duke of Ravenswood, a man whose victories on the battlefield are legendary. My uncle is the King of this realm. I am the trueborn heiress of House Blackwood. And Theron?” I scoffed. “He’s the son of a minor baron. You’re right, Mirabelle—we are worlds apart.”

“Elara! How dare you twist the truth like that!”

The voice belonged to my youngest brother, Leo, who rushed over, his face a mask of panic. Close behind was my third brother, Marcus, who immediately bent to help Mirabelle up.

“Mirabelle, are you alright?” Leo asked, his voice oozing concern as he cupped her face. His brows were knitted with worry, his tone soft as if she were spun glass.

Mirabelle gave a weak shake of her head, tears brimming beautifully. She looked up at him with an expression so pitiful it could melt stone.

Marcus, meanwhile, turned to Lord Theron with a composed yet stern look. “Lord Theron,” he said, his voice steady and authoritative, “Elara was a charity case in the Blackwood household. My father, out of mercy, took her in as a foster daughter. Clearly, she’s forgotten her place. She’s delusional enough to believe she could pass for a noblewoman—let alone your future wife. Allow me to summon my elder brothers. We’ll handle this matter according to family law.”

At his gesture, a servant hurried off to fetch my eldest brothers, Edmund and Julian.

The crowd, already buzzing, erupted into louder whispers, their words sharp and cruel.

“She’s an imposter! Claiming to be the Duke’s daughter? The nerve!”

“I heard the late Duchess loved her true daughter so much she traveled the kingdom, healing and praying for her. Can you imagine her fury seeing this fraud?”

“And the Duke himself—he’ll be livid when he hears his real daughter was mistreated. He’ll make that girl regret the day she was born.”

“Not to mention the four Blackwood brothers. They dote on Lady Mirabelle. They won’t let this slide.”

“If I were her, I’d be groveling at Mirabelle’s feet right now, begging forgiveness.”

“Just a country bumpkin trying to play dress-up. A crow in peacock’s feathers. Disgusting.”

I let out a soft, humorless laugh, amused by the ridiculous gossip. They weren’t entirely wrong, though. When my parents returned and learned the truth, neither Mirabelle nor my so-called brothers would escape the fallout.

Theron stepped forward then, aligning himself with Mirabelle and my brothers, his expression one of smug self-righteousness.

“Of course, I take your word, Marcus,” he said, his tone eager to please. “Mirabelle is the very picture of grace and kindness. Someone like her,” he jerked his chin dismissively at me, “could never be the real thing.”

He turned to Mirabelle, his gaze softening as he checked her over. Satisfied she wasn’t seriously hurt, he turned his disdain back on me.

“And you,” Theron said, contempt dripping from every word, “just two nights ago, you came to me with that token, spinning tales of being the true heiress. Did you honestly think I’d believe you? I’ve known Mirabelle for years—her gentle heart, her noble bearing. And you?” He scoffed, his lip curling. “You’ve been playing a role for so long you’ve forgotten you’re nothing but a stray dressed up for the ball.”

Perfect. Everything was unfolding exactly as I’d planned.

Theron, oh Theron, if you hadn’t taken the bait and insulted me so thoroughly, how else was I to shatter this pathetic engagement?