The name burned on the parchment like poison:
Camilla Vexley.
The court adored her. Golden curls, tear-soft eyes, a voice like spun sugar. The perfect lady. The perfect liar.
Camilla was the first domino Evelyne would push. Because Camilla hadn't just betrayed her she had watched Evelyne fall and smiled.
Evelyne's carriage rolled into the city under a pale dawn sky. She wore gray this time unremarkable, quiet, forgettable. Like the version of herself Camilla used to pity.
How fitting.
She stepped onto the cobbled streets of Bellgrave, the merchant quarter, where whispers traveled faster than carriages and reputation was currency.
Camilla had opened a school for noble girls here. A place to "mold young minds."
You mold them into masks, Evelyne thought coldly. Just like you molded me.
Inside the school's gates, laughter echoed through the garden. Evelyne stood behind the hedges, watching from the shadows as Camilla walked past a group of giggling girls.
She hadn't changed. Same sweet smile. Same soft voice.
Same poison under the lace.
"Did you know," came a low voice beside Evelyne, "that Camilla sells secrets to the Duke of Vale? She uses her students as spies."
Damien stood beside her, unseen until now. He handed her a folded note stolen letters, names, coded messages.
"She's built her own web," he added. "But she forgot who taught her to weave."
Evelyne's fingers tightened around the note.
"I'm going to tear it all down."
"Then start with this," Damien said. "Tonight, Camilla hosts a private tea with several duchesses. Quiet. Controlled. Unless someone interrupts."
That Evening
Evelyne entered the manor through the servant's passage, veiled and unnoticed. The parlor ahead glowed with candlelight and soft music.
Camilla's laughter rang out graceful, warm, false.
Evelyne waited.
Waited until the servants left.
Waited until Camilla raised her glass.
Then she stepped forward.
The room went still.
Camilla turned and froze.
"Evelyne?" she breathed, voice trembling.
Evelyne smiled. "Miss me?"
The duchesses exchanged glances. Whispers flared.
Camilla stood, hands shaking slightly. "You shouldn't be here. You're not"
"Dead?" Evelyne interrupted. "Disgraced? Forgotten?"
She stepped closer.
"Let's fix that, shall we?"
She tossed the letters onto the table. Every secret Camilla thought hidden. Every deal. Every betrayal.
"Your web," Evelyne whispered, "just snapped."
Camilla's face turned pale.
"You'll ruin me."
"You ruined me first."
As Evelyne left, whispers followed her like shadows. But she didn't look back.
One name down.
Three to go.
And the court was already starting to tremble.