I was Eleanor Whitmore, the trueborn daughter of the Duke of Kensington. But when my grandmother fell gravely ill, I willingly retreated to a convent, dedicating three years of prayer and solitude to her recovery. When I finally returned to the grandeur of Kensington Manor, I found that my brother, Alexander, the one who had always cherished me, had a new focus for his affection: Lila, a girl my mother had taken in as her ward. He had thrown a lavish coming-of-age ball in her honor, a spectacle where he declared to all of high society that she was the true daughter of the Duke, and I was merely the adopted one. He even promised her the engagement my mother had arranged for me, his words a venomous whisper: “Look at you, Eleanor. You’re a disgrace, utterly uncivilized. How could someone so coarse ever be worthy of the young Lord Ashton?” In my last life, my weakness was my undoing. I let them break me, let Alexander and Lila torture me until my last breath. But this is not that life. I have been born again, and this time, I will not yield. With a heart of ice, I marched toward Lila, who stood resplendent in a gown of sapphire silk—the very gown my mother had sewn by hand for my debut. I grabbed the delicate fabric and, with a vicious tug, tore it from her body. "What do you think you are?" I snarled, my voice cutting through the stunned silence. "A little street rat, daring to put your hands on something that belongs to the daughter of this house?" 1 The ballroom fell silent. Every eye was on us. Alexander was the first to react. He shoved me aside, his face a mask of fury, and wrapped Lila in his arms, covering her with his own coat. "Eleanor, have you lost your mind?" he roared, his eyes blazing at me. "What are you doing?" He turned to the servants. "How can the House of Kensington have a daughter like this, attacking her own sister? Bring Lady Lila's gown back to her at once!" I tossed the ruined silk to a trembling maid. "My sister, Alexander?" I asked, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Lila is my sister? Tell me, does your conscience not ache when you speak such lies?" Lila clutched Alexander's arm, her eyes welling with perfectly formed tears. "Alexander, please, don't be angry with Eleanor for my sake," she whispered, her voice a delicate tremor. "It's just a dress. If she wants it, she can have it. After all... she went to the convent to pray for me. I owe her this much." She paused, letting her words sink in, a masterpiece of manipulation. "If I hadn't fallen so ill back then, it would have been my duty, as the Duke's daughter, to go and pray for Grandmother. Mother was so moved by Eleanor's filial piety that she adopted her. It's only right that I show her some charity." Her twisted narrative spread through the crowd like wildfire. The whispers began, sharp and cruel. "So, Eleanor is just the adopted one? No wonder she looks so plain." "Utterly brazen for a charity case. You'd think she'd show some gratitude." "Lady Lila is far too kind. A servant like that should be dismissed, not treated like a sister." Alexander pointed a commanding finger at the maid holding the dress. "Bring that gown here." Lila’s personal attendant, a stout woman named Mrs. Gable, snatched the dress and presented it to Alexander with a fawning smile. "My Lord, here it is. We must help Lady Lila change back immediately." I moved so fast she didn't see me coming. I seized her wrist and my hand cracked across her face in a slap that echoed through the hall. "You are a servant in this house," I said, my voice dangerously low. "Who gave you the audacity to snatch something from my hands?" Mrs. Gable cradled her cheek, wailing. "Miss Eleanor! Lady Lila has always been the mistress of this house! She treats us with kindness! I'm an old woman, I've never been struck in my life! My Lord, you must defend me!" My eyes bored into hers. "You've served this family for years, woman. Open your eyes and think very carefully before you speak again. Who is the true lady of this house?" Her bravado vanished. She glanced at my face, then back at Alexander, stammering, "My... my Lord..." 2 Alexander’s expression flickered, but before he could speak, Lila tugged his sleeve. "Brother, today is a happy occasion. Let's not ruin it over a silly dress. I can simply wear something else." His anger flared anew. "Absolutely not! Mother designed this gown especially for your debut. It cannot be replaced. The royal decree will be arriving soon—Mother promised she would petition the King to have you named a Countess upon your coming of age!" I stared at the brother who had once doted on me. Everything changed the day Lila, a starving orphan, had collapsed before my mother's carriage. Mother, ever compassionate, brought her home to be my companion and later adopted her as a ward. From that moment on, Alexander had eyes for only one sister: Lila. He praised her endlessly. Lila was gentle, obedient, and graceful, everything a lady should be. I was a tomboy, too wild, a disappointment. To please her, he orchestrated this grand lie, declaring her the trueborn heir at her debut ball. In my last life, that lie was my death sentence. I was scorned, beaten by my own brother's command, and thrown into a damp, dark woodshed to "reflect" on my sins. While they feasted and celebrated Lila's triumph, she crept into the shed and released a viper. By the time Alexander remembered me the next day, my body was already cold. This time, I met his furious gaze without flinching. "That gown was made for me, brother," I said, my voice steady. "Mother stitched it with her own hands. How can you so blatantly favor Lila, passing off a crow as a phoenix? Do you have no fear of Mother's wrath when she returns?" Mother had gone to the country estate to bring Grandmother home. A sudden storm had delayed them, causing them to miss my return from the convent—a return she had planned to welcome herself. I had come back alone, not wanting to trouble her. I never imagined I'd walk into this betrayal. Alexander had, of course, timed Lila's ball perfectly to coincide with Mother's absence. Lila clutched the gown to her chest, biting her lip. "Sister, I know you want this dress, but... it was a gift from Mother, a symbol of her love. I would give you anything else, but I cannot give you this. I fear it would break her heart." A sneering voice cut in from the crowd. "Eleanor, have you no shame? They call you a 'ward' to be kind. In truth, you're just a beggar the Duchess picked up off the street. You should be grateful they feed and clothe you, yet you act like a trueborn lady? Have you looked in a mirror? Do you really think you're worthy of any of this?" I turned to see Penelope Reed, the illegitimate daughter of a high-ranking minister and Lila's most ardent sycophant. Ever since she'd caught wind that Lila was the "true" Kensington heiress, she'd been stuck to her like a shadow, hoping to ride her coattails into prominence. A cold smile touched my lips. "A beggar, you say? And what are you, Penelope? The product of your father's back-alley affair, a stain on his name not even worthy of being called a true bastard. If I were you, I wouldn't dare show my face in public. The Reeds must have hides as thick as castle walls." Penelope flushed crimson, utterly speechless. Mrs. Gable scurried to Lila's side. "My Lady, we must hurry and redo your hair. The auspicious hour is almost upon us." Alexander's anger softened as he looked at Lila. "Bring the jewels I chose for her," he commanded. A maid brought forward a velvet tray. Resting upon it was a piece that made my blood run cold: a delicate, golden circlet, studded with more than a dozen fiery sapphires. It was my grandmother's. I remembered her teasing me as a child, her voice warm with love. "One day, my sweet Eleanor, this will be the centerpiece of your dowry. It was a gift from the Queen herself. It will be the first treasure everyone sees." And now, Alexander had stolen it for Lila. 3 "That belongs to me," I choked out. "Grandmother gave it to me. Alexander, how could you give it to someone else?" He ignored me, gently placing the circlet in Lila's hair. Only then did he turn, his face a mask of cold dismissal. "What is this nonsense? Grandmother said it was for the truest granddaughter of the House of Kensington. That is Lila. Are you going to lie about this, too?" Lila smiled, a faint blush on her cheeks, her eyes dancing with triumph. "Sister, when you have your own debut, I promise I'll give you a beautiful hairpin. But this... this was Grandmother's most treasured possession, a gift from the Queen, meant for my wedding day. I'm afraid on this, I cannot yield." It was the same in my last life. Every time we clashed, she would play the part of the magnanimous, long-suffering victim. It made Alexander pity her gentleness, admire her grace, and despise me all the more for my "crude" and "grasping" nature. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I lunged forward, pushing past the servants who tried to stop me, but Alexander's hand shot out. The slap was a crack of thunder in the silent room. "How did our family produce someone so greedy, so shameless, so utterly devoid of dignity?" he spat, his face contorted with disgust. "Alexander, please," I sobbed, the sting on my cheek a pale imitation of the pain in my heart. "I don't care about anything else, but that was from Grandmother. Give it back to me." He stepped closer, his voice laced with ice. "Are you going to continue with these lies? This tantrum? Guards! Take her away. Ten lashes with the riding crop. That should be enough to help her reflect on her station." The guests whispered amongst themselves. "This adopted girl is truly shameless. Does she really think she's a lady?" "I suppose if you play a role long enough, you start to believe it." "If I were Lila, I'd have her thrown out on the street. What an embarrassment." I stared at my brother, the man who had just condemned me to a whipping without a flicker of hesitation, and the last embers of love for him in my heart turned to ash. It was happening all over again. He would do anything to make Lila happy. "What's all this? The ceremony hasn't begun?" A smooth, masculine voice drifted from the doorway. Lord Alistair Ashton, the heir to the Viscount of Blackwood, stood there, a vision of aristocratic elegance. My fiancé. Or he was supposed to be. "Lila, my dear, your eyes are red. Who has been upsetting you?" he asked, striding toward her. He reached out as if to wipe a tear, then seemed to think better of it in public. Alexander pointed a trembling, accusatory finger at me. "It's Eleanor! This wretched girl. She tried to steal Lila's gown, then her circlet, all while insisting she's the true daughter. I was just about to have her disciplined." Alistair's gaze fell upon me, cool and appraising. I clenched my fists. "Second sister," he began, his tone dripping with condescension, "perhaps three years of pious austerity in the convent has made you... covetous of such beautiful things. It must be what's compelling you to tell these fantastic tales. I never imagined the House of Kensington would harbor someone with such vulgar ambitions." He turned back to Lila. "Your sister has a kind heart and doesn't hold a grudge, but I do. If you continue to cause Lila distress, know that I, Alistair Ashton, will not be so forgiving." I almost laughed. Vulgar ambitions? He, the heir of a crumbling house, was threatening me, the true daughter of a Duke? I saw the way Lila looked at him, her eyes soft with adoration. I knew from my past life that they were already secretly in love, their vows pledged in the shadows. Today was meant to be their triumph, the day they cemented her status as both the Kensington heiress and his future bride. I once believed that when my world came crashing down, he would be the one to save me. Instead, he had joined my tormentors, humiliating me before the world. That was a debt I would not forget. Alistair produced a small, exquisitely carved wooden box. "A gift, for you," he said, his voice a low murmur meant only for Lila. She opened it, and the ladies nearby gasped. Inside lay a delicate silver locket, shaped like two entwined hearts. For an unmarried man to give such a gift was a public declaration of love. "My Lord, he truly adores you! A lover's locket!" "The wedding can't be far off now."
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