Eight months into my pregnancy, my husband sent me to the manor of the Lord Regent. He did it because the Regent, Lord Cassian Thorne, had specifically asked for me. “Everyone knows the Regent is a monster,” the servants whispered. “If the Lady goes, she’ll never come back alive.” My husband paid them no mind. Instead, he brazenly brought his mistress, whom he’d kept hidden on the outskirts of the city, into our home. “Don’t blame me for being cruel, Elara,” he said, his face a cold mask. “It was a direct command from the Lord Regent. No one dares to defy him.” Then, right in front of me, he promised his mistress my title. I didn’t cry. I didn’t protest. I simply climbed into the carriage that would take me away. Because in my last life, when I had threatened to kill myself to stop him, my husband sent his pregnant mistress in my place. Within a fortnight, she was tortured to death. My husband hid his grief, waiting until the day I gave birth. Then, he took our newborn son and smashed him to a pulp on the floor. When I tried to stop him, he drove a dagger into my heart. “This,” he had snarled, “is what you owe Dahlia.” But this time, I would give him exactly what he wanted. “Did you hear? The Lord Regent demanded that our Lord send his own wife to… attend to him, in exchange for ending the inquiry against him at court.” “But Lord Thorne is a notoriously cruel man! They say no woman who enters his manor ever comes out alive. It’s a death sentence!” “I know. And our Lord agreed. In three days, he’s sending her. Poor Lady Elara, she’s always been so kind to us. And with a child on the way… Such a tragic fate.” The window was open, and the servants’ gossip drifted in clearly. My handmaiden, Luna, was weeping, her eyes red and swollen as she brushed my hair. “My lady, please, you must beg Lord Alistair! You two have always been so devoted. Surely he wouldn’t send you to that monster’s den!” “Oh, you sweet, foolish girl,” I said, my gaze distant. “Begging is useless.” He is more than willing. The entire city spoke of the great love between Lord Alistair Croft and me. They thought our marriage was a perfect union. In my previous life, when the Regent’s summons first arrived, Alistair had been shocked. But to save himself from ruin at court, he had reluctantly agreed. It was I who had knelt and wept, threatening my own life to stop him. So Alistair had made a substitution. He sent his mistress, Dahlia, to the Regent’s bed instead. But within two weeks, she was dead, her body returned bearing the marks of unspeakable torture. Alistair had her buried quietly and told me to focus on my pregnancy. He was so gentle, so caring. Then, on the day our son was born, he revealed his true face. He murdered our child and then drove a blade into my heart. Only then did I understand the depths of his deception. He had loved that mistress with a desperate, all-consuming passion. So yesterday, when the Regent’s messenger arrived and named me specifically, and Alistair agreed without a moment’s hesitation, I knew. He had been reborn, just like me. And this time, he would protect Dahlia at any cost. He would send me to my death. “The master has returned!” The familiar sound of his footsteps echoed in the hall, followed by his cold, hard voice. “Where is your lady? Tell her to come out and meet Dahlia.” A wave of shock rippled through the household staff. Luna rushed back to my chambers, her face pale with panic. “My lady, he’s brought a woman back with him! And she’s… she’s…” “She’s pregnant,” I finished for her. Luna stared at me, dumbfounded. “My lady, how did you know?” In my last life, Alistair, coveting my family’s immense wealth, hadn't dared to send me away so openly. He had played the part of the doting husband, swearing his undying love with tears in his eyes. To keep me and my fortune, he had brought his hidden mistress to me. “Elara, my love,” he’d said, “this is a servant girl I purchased. She, like you, is with child. The Regent has never seen you. He won’t know the difference.” He had gambled on a clever deception, sending Dahlia to the Regent’s manor while begging the Regent to spare his “wife’s” life. But his plan had failed. She had died anyway. Only on my deathbed did he finally confess the truth: the child Dahlia had carried was his. I smiled faintly at the memory and shook my head. “Luna, you should stop calling me ‘my lady.’ The woman outside is Alistair’s new wife.” “Go and pack our things. In three days, we will be leaving this place for good.” The words had barely left my lips when Alistair kicked the door open. “Elara, you have some nerve,” he sneered. “Too proud to answer a servant’s summons? Do you think because you’re about to become the Regent’s plaything, I have no power over you?” I ignored him, but the woman behind him, Dahlia, immediately fell to her knees, her face a mask of artful sorrow. “My lord, please don’t be angry,” she whimpered. “Lady Elara comes from the House of Valerius, one of the wealthiest merchant families in the kingdom. It’s only natural that she would look down on a poor orphan like me. I should have come to pay my respects to her, not the other way around.” Before her knees could touch the floor, Alistair swept her up into a protective embrace. “Dahlia, my love, you must not kneel,” he murmured, his eyes filled with a tenderness he never showed me. “You are with child. You owe her no courtesies.” He then turned his cold gaze on me. “Besides, in three days, Elara will be in the Regent’s manor. You will be the true lady of this house.” At his words, I stood and picked up a small, black lacquered box. Alistair instinctively shielded Dahlia. “What are you doing?” I smiled. “Why, I’m handing over the household to its future mistress, of course.” I opened the box, revealing the keys to every room and the household ledgers. Under their astonished gazes, I held it out to Dahlia. “Take it.” Dahlia hesitated, her hand reaching out. But Alistair slapped the box from my grasp. The keys and ledgers scattered across the floor with a loud clatter. “Elara, who knows what poison you’ve smeared on it?” he spat, his eyes filled with disgust. “You’re being sent to a eunuch’s bed in three days. You think I believe you’d be this calm? Don’t think I don’t know what you’re plotting.” He glared at me. “You want to harm Dahlia, don’t you? You wish she were the one going to die in your place!” I couldn’t help but shake my head. He was just as foolish as he was in our last life. Who said that being sent to the Lord Regent’s bed was a guaranteed death sentence? My silence seemed to unnerve him. His expression shifted. “Elara, don’t think me heartless,” he said, his tone softening into a parody of reason. “Lord Thorne himself asked for you. No one in the kingdom dares to cross him. But if you go quietly, and solve this problem for me… when you return, I might be generous enough to allow you to stay on as my concubine.” “There’s no need,” I said, cutting him off. I nudged the scattered ledgers with my foot. “Since you don’t trust me, have a servant gather them for her.” Dahlia was installed in the main wing of the house. Alistair announced to the entire staff that any disrespect shown to the “Lady Dahlia” would be punished with fifty lashes and immediate dismissal. Luna was telling me this as I sat embroidering a gown, a wedding gown. Seeing my calm composure, she burst into tears of frustration. “My lady, how can you let that woman bully you like this? When Lord Alistair came to your family to ask for your hand, he swore a sacred oath to never take another woman, or be struck down by the heavens!” “He betrayed you…” I shook my head, a weary sigh escaping my lips. “What’s the point in arguing with a man like that? Are our things packed?” Luna wiped her tears. “They are, my lady. But… all this packing, and now you’re sewing a wedding gown… it’s as if you’re planning on staying at the Regent’s manor.” My hand stilled. This sweet, simple girl. She, too, thought I was going to my death. Before I could speak, a cup of cold tea was thrown in my face. The icy liquid streamed down my cheeks, soaking the delicate silk of the gown in my lap. “Oh, my deepest apologies, sister,” Dahlia cooed, though her voice was laced with triumphant malice. “My hand slipped. I’ve ruined your beautiful gown.” She stood there, her swollen belly pushed forward, her chin tilted in an arrogant sneer. “But it is strange, isn’t it? Being sent to serve a eunuch, and yet you’re sewing a wedding dress as if it were a real marriage. Aren’t you afraid of becoming a laughingstock?” Luna stamped her foot in fury. “You go too far!” “Luna, stand down.” Dahlia, seeing my passivity, grew even bolder. She assumed I was a condemned woman, too afraid to fight back. Her eyes, filled with cruel amusement, fell to my own rounded stomach. “Sister, I’ve heard the Regent is exceptionally brutal. I fear by tomorrow night, that child of yours will be no more…” she said, her voice dripping with false pity. “It truly is a shame.” The gown was ruined. I tossed it aside. “You needn’t trouble yourself with my affairs.” I turned to leave, but she grabbed my arm. “Elara, what do you think my lord would do to you if something… were to happen to me?” A wicked smile spread across her face, and then she threw herself backward, toward the ornamental pond in the courtyard. At that exact moment, the sound of Alistair’s approaching footsteps echoed from the colonnade. “Ah, help me!” she screamed as she hit the water. Alistair’s face contorted in panic. He dove into the pond without a second’s thought and pulled her out. “My love, don’t blame her,” Dahlia sobbed, clinging to him. “She’s just jealous that I’m carrying your child, jealous that I will be the one by your side forever. It was just a moment of weakness…” Her feigned innocence fueled his rage. A sharp, stinging slap cracked across my face. “You wretched bitch!” Alistair roared. “It was you who seduced the Regent in the first place, and now you’re trying to murder Dahlia and my unborn child out of jealousy?” On my final day, Alistair, in his fury, had me locked in the woodshed. “Without my command, she is not to have a single drop of water!” Luna knelt outside, begging and crying. “My lord, you can’t do this to her! She is eight months pregnant! Even if she can endure it, your own son cannot!” Alistair didn’t hear a word. Dahlia, however, who had supposedly suffered a terrible fall, was perfectly fine. She marched over and slapped Luna hard across the face. “Insolent slave! I am the lady of this house!” she shrieked. “Elara is nothing but a whore being sent to serve a eunuch! That bastard in her belly is probably from some stable boy she seduced!” Luna, utterly enraged, tried to lunge at her, but Dahlia’s servants held her back. “You truly are a loyal dog,” Dahlia sneered. “Too bad your mistress won’t live to see the day after tomorrow.” Luna kept vigil outside the woodshed all night. The next day, when the Regent’s carriage arrived, Alistair finally unlocked the door. “Drink this,” he commanded. A servant brought forward a bowl of dark, steaming liquid. “It’s a tonic to protect the child. Drink it, and then go and serve the Lord Regent well.” I smiled a cold, humorless smile. He gripped my chin, his voice softening with a false tenderness. “Elara, you and I were once deeply in love. If you manage to survive this, I will grant you and the child a place in my home.” He forced the bowl closer. “This is the finest tonic. It will protect our child.” I lowered my eyes and took the bowl. He thought I didn’t know. It wasn't a tonic. It was an abortifacient. The night he brought Dahlia home, I had overheard her whisper to him. “Since Elara only has a few days left to live, there’s no reason to keep her child.” Alistair had hesitated. “But…” Dahlia had wrapped her arms around his neck, her voice a seductive purr. “My love, you still have my child, don’t you? You promised me that my son would be raised as your legitimate heir.” In the end, Alistair had agreed. And still, I drank the poison without hesitation. My child, I thought, a silent apology in my heart, forgive your mother. You were simply born at the wrong time. Alistair smiled, satisfied. “Servants, prepare the lady. Dress her and see her to the carriage.” The Regent’s attendant had been waiting for a long time. When he saw me emerge in my red wedding gown, his eyes widened, and he bowed respectfully. “My lady, please, this way.” As I turned to leave, Alistair grabbed my sleeve. “Elara,” he whispered, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his face. “I’ll be waiting to collect your corpse.” “Go and die peacefully in the Regent’s bed. It is your fate. And the Valerius fortune, all those businesses and properties… they will all be mine.” After a long moment, I smiled back. “Perhaps you’ll be disappointed.” The moment I turned away, my smile vanished. My hand clenched around the document hidden in my sleeve: a writ of divorce. Dahlia had come to me a few days prior, gloating. “Elara, did you really think he loved you? He only married you for your family’s fortune. He would have divorced you years ago otherwise. One night, when he was drunk at our villa, I coaxed him into it. He wrote this writ of divorce with a single stroke of his pen.” She had dangled the document in front of me, her face alight with victory. “You can’t even hold onto your husband’s heart. You truly are a failure.” But all I had felt was an immense, overwhelming relief. I was even a little grateful to her. As the carriage pulled away from the Croft estate, I lifted the curtain. I watched Alistair and Dahlia, standing together, shrink into the distance. A slow smile spread across my face. The real performance was just beginning. Halfway to the Regent’s manor, a dull ache started in my belly. Soon, it sharpened into an agonizing pain. The poison was working. I knew exactly what Alistair had planned. A man’s pride could not stomach his wife being defiled by another man, even a eunuch, even the all-powerful Lord Regent. He knew that at eight months, any complication with the pregnancy would mean certain death for both me and the child. He wanted me to die on the road, an unfortunate accident. But I would not give him the satisfaction. “Luna,” I gasped, sweat beading on my forehead. “The child… it’s lost. Help me… help me get it out.” Luna’s face went white with terror. “My lady, you’re mad!” “Hurry! There’s no time!”
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