The night air was sharp against Elara's skin as she steadied her breath. The banquet hall's chatter and music seemed distant now, muffled by the heavy doors behind her.
But the sound of footsteps was real, and the man before her was no illusion.
He leaned casually against the stone pillar, as though the gala inside was of little concern to him. His frame was tall, built with quiet strength, his sharp jawline partially hidden in the shadows. But it was his eyes that struck her—keen, unreadable, and glimmering with something dangerously close to amusement.
Elara's guard rose immediately. "Who are you?"
The man tilted his head slightly, studying her. "A guest. Nothing more."
"A guest doesn't skulk around in the shadows," she retorted, her tone calm but edged.
His lips curved faintly, as if her sharpness entertained him. "And a bride-to-be doesn't stand on a balcony whispering vengeance into the wind."
Elara's heart gave a violent jolt. For a fleeting moment, she thought her secret had been exposed. But then she steadied herself, her grip tightening on the railing.
"You must have misheard."
"Perhaps," he murmured, his gaze never leaving her face. "But I doubt it."
The silence stretched, thick with tension. Elara forced herself not to look away, though her instincts screamed caution. She had been betrayed once—she wouldn't allow herself to be caught off-guard again.
Finally, she asked coolly, "And what is it you want from me?"
He pushed off the pillar, stepping into the silver wash of moonlight. His features became clearer now—dark hair, sharp brows, eyes the color of storm clouds. He was handsome, but not in the polished, deliberate way of Adrian Holt. No—this man carried a raw, unrestrained presence, as though power clung to him naturally.
"What I want?" His voice was smooth, low. "To watch."
"Watch?" she echoed, her eyes narrowing.
"To see whether the forsaken bride really strikes back… or if she hides behind her new sharp tongue."
Elara's chest tightened. So he had heard.
"You're mocking me," she said coldly.
"No." He shook his head, faint amusement flickering across his expression. "Mockery is for the weak. Curiosity, however…" He stepped closer, the air between them tightening. "…curiosity is for men like me."
Her breath caught before she quickly masked it. "Then remain curious. I don't owe you an explanation."
He chuckled softly, the sound low, rich, unsettling. "Good. A woman with secrets is far more interesting than one without."
Elara's pulse quickened despite herself. She wanted to demand his name, his purpose—but the sound of the banquet doors creaking open interrupted them.
"Miss White!" a servant called, peeking out. "Mr. Holt is asking for you inside."
Elara composed herself instantly, lifting her chin. "Tell him I'll be there shortly."
The servant bowed and retreated.
When she turned back, the man was already moving away, disappearing into the shadows of the garden.
"Wait—" The word slipped from her lips before she could stop it.
But he was gone.
Only the faint echo of his voice lingered in her ears. "The forsaken bride isn't so forsaken after all."
Back inside, the banquet had shifted again. Serena was laughing sweetly at Adrian's side, but her eyes darted toward Elara with open hostility.
"Elara," Adrian called, his tone deceptively warm. "Come. We're about to announce the engagement."
The words sliced through her composure, though she managed to keep her expression serene.
Announce the engagement… the same engagement that led to my ruin.
In her last life, she had stepped onto that stage trembling with naïve joy. Tonight, she would not make the same mistake.
Elara's gaze swept across the room, then landed on Serena. Her sister's smug little smile was unbearable.
A slow, calculated plan formed in her mind. If Adrian wanted to announce their engagement tonight, then tonight would also be Serena's first taste of humiliation.
"Of course," Elara replied sweetly, gliding to Adrian's side.
Adrian placed a possessive hand on her waist as the emcee handed him the microphone. He spoke confidently, announcing the union of the Holt and White families, while cameras flashed and guests clapped politely.
Then, as Adrian turned to her, inviting her to say a few words, Elara stepped forward.
Her smile was luminous, dazzling enough to silence the hall. "Thank you all for celebrating this union," she began smoothly. "It is rare to find family that supports one so dearly."
Serena preened instantly, her lips twitching upward in false modesty.
Elara's eyes flicked to her sister, and her tone sharpened just slightly. "In fact, my younger sister Serena has always been by my side… watching over me. So closely, in fact, that at times, I almost wondered if she wished she were me."
The hall erupted in laughter. Guests chuckled knowingly, some even covering their mouths as they whispered.
Serena's smile froze, her face paling.
Elara's smile never faltered. She continued sweetly, "But of course, that's what makes her such a devoted sister, isn't it?"
Gasps and murmurs filled the air. Everyone understood the double edge in her words.
Adrian glanced between them, his brow furrowing slightly, but the damage was done. Serena had been mocked in front of the city's elite—and Elara had done it with elegance, making it impossible to accuse her of outright malice.
The applause that followed was polite, but the whispers were merciless.
Serena bit her lip until she tasted blood, her fists trembling at her sides.
Elara stepped back into Adrian's arm, her smile radiant. But deep in her chest, her heart burned with satisfaction.
This is only the beginning, Serena.
Much later, when the banquet finally ended and the guests began to disperse, Elara slipped away toward the gardens again.
She told herself it was for the peace, for a moment away from Adrian's scrutinizing eyes.
But in truth, her thoughts drifted to the stranger in the shadows.
She scanned the darkness, searching for a glimpse of him.
Her lips curved faintly. "Who are you, really?"
The night answered with silence.
Yet she could not shake the feeling that he was still watching her—from the shadows, from afar.
And for the first time since her rebirth, Elara's chest tightened with something unfamiliar. Not fear. Not hatred. But the faintest spark of… possibility.