Celeste POV
I hide the wooden box under my bed and burn Vivienne's letter in my fireplace. My hands won't stop shaking.
They planned everything. From the very beginning.
I thought Damian charmed me at that party by chance. I thought he picked me because he loved me.
But it was all a trap. Vivienne set it up. She wanted my money, and Damian was the perfect tool.
I press my hands against my eyes and force myself to breathe. I can't fall apart. Not now. Not when I finally know the truth.
The next morning, Helena says we're hosting a garden party. "To celebrate the lovely spring weather," she says with her fake smile.
I know better. This party is another test. Another way to control me.
But I smile sweetly and say, "That sounds wonderful, Mother."
The word tastes like poison, but Helena's eyes light up. She thinks she's winning.
Three days later, our yard fills with nobles in expensive clothes. I wear a simple blue dress and keep my smile soft and gentle. Sweet, stupid Celeste. That's what they need to see.
I'm pouring tea for Lady Morrison when I feel someone watching me.
I look up.
And there he is.
Damian Silverfox stands across the yard like a painting come to life. Golden-red hair that catches the sunlight. Amber eyes that sparkle with warmth. A smile that could make stars fall.
In my first life, I saw him and forgot how to breathe. I thought he was the most beautiful man in the world.
Now, I see the truth behind that pretty face.
His eyes aren't warm—they're calculating. His smile isn't kind—it's practiced. He's not a prince from a fairy story.
He's a hunter. And I was always his prey.
Damian walks toward me, and every girl in the yard watches him with jealous eyes. He ignores them all. His attention is only on me.
Just like last time.
"Lady Celeste," he says, bowing correctly. "I've heard so much about you."
Liar. We've never met in this timeline, but Vivienne has already told him everything about me. My fortune. My loneliness. My urgent need to be loved.
All my weaknesses, gift-wrapped for him.
"Lord Silverfox," I say politely. "How nice to meet you."
His smile widens. "Please, call me Damian. I feel like we're going to be very good friends."
Friends. That's how it started last time too. Friendship that turned into romance. Romance that turned into marriage. Marriage that turned into murder.
"I hope so," I lie, giving him my gentlest smile.
We talk about boring things. The weather. The flowers. The upcoming Selection Ceremony in six months. He's charming and funny, making me laugh at his stories.
I laugh because I'm supposed to. But inside, I'm counting every lie that falls from his pretty mouth.
"I heard you'll be choosing a shifter companion soon," Damian says, his eyes glittering. "Have you thought about what kind you want?"
This is it. The moment he starts planting seeds in my mind. In my first life, he spent months telling me that fox shifters were the best choice. Loyal. Clever. Perfect for a merchant family's girl.
I wanted to please him so badly that I chose a fox shifter at my wedding.
I picked him.
"I haven't decided yet," I say carefully. "There are so many options."
Damian leans closer, and I smell his cologne—expensive and sweet, like poisoned honey. "If you want my advice, fox shifters are wonderful partners. We're intelligent, adaptable, and fiercely loyal to our chosen bosses."
The way he says "chosen masters" makes my skin crawl. He's already imagining me as his boss. Already planning how to control me through the bond.
"That's good to know," I say, sipping my tea. "Though I've heard every shifter type has its strengths."
His smile tightens just a little. He doesn't like that answer. He wants me eager and grateful for his help.
"Of course," he says easily. "But some shifters are... dangerous. Like serpents, for example. They're cold-blooded and unreliable. Many masters who choose snake shifters end up regretting it."
My fingers tighten on my teacup. He's already working against my future choice, and he doesn't even know it yet.
"I'll keep that in mind," I say sweetly.
Damian touches my hand—soft and gentle, like a lover's caress. "Lady Celeste, I hope you don't think me too forward, but I'd like permission to court you properly. I feel a link between us. Something... special."
In my first life, I melted at these words. I said yes instantly, my heart racing with joy.
Now, I see the trap close around me. If I say yes, he'll have access to my life, my home, my secrets. If I say no, he'll know something is wrong. That I'm not the desperate, lonely girl Vivienne described.
I need to play this perfectly.
I pull my hand away slowly, like a shy girl who's nervous but pleased. "That's very kind of you, Lord Silverfox. But we've only just met. I'd like to get to know you better before making any choices."
His golden eyes flash with something dark. Frustration. Anger. But it's gone in an instant, replaced by his charming smile.
"Of course," he says. "I apologize for rushing. Take all the time you need."
But I can see it in his face. He's not used to waiting. He's not used to girls saying anything except yes.
Damian excuses himself, and I watch him walk away. He stops to talk to Vivienne near the rose bushes. They think I'm not watching, but I see everything.
Vivienne's face is worried. Damian's is angry. They're arguing in whispers, probably about why I didn't fall at his feet like I was meant to.
Good. Let them worry. Let them scramble.
I take another sip of tea and smile at the sky.
But then I see something that makes my blood turn to ice.
Damian pulls out a small glass bottle from his pocket and shows it to Vivienne. Even from here, I can see the liquid inside glowing slightly red.
I know what that is.
Love poison. The same one they used on me in my first life to make me obsessed with him.
Vivienne nods excitedly, and Damian slips the bottle back into his pocket. Then they both look at me across the garden.
And they smile.
They're going to kill me. Tonight. At dinner.
Because if I won't fall in love with Damian naturally, they'll make sure I have no choice.
My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe. I need to be smart. I need a plan.
But what scares me most isn't the poison.
It's the question burning in my mind: If they're already this desperate after one talk, what else are they planning that I don't know about yet?