A rival?

Soft music floated through the air of the luxurious spa — faint strings, the scent of white jasmine, the sound of water trickling from a marble fountain. The light was dim, warm, meant for serenity. But serenity was the one thing Elara Vance never truly possessed.

She lay half-reclined on the massage bed, a silk robe falling open at her collarbone. Her skin glowed under the golden light, her features sharp, beautiful, dangerous. She could have been carved from glass — perfect, and likely to cut whoever got too close.

The masseuse’s fingers pressed gently into her shoulders, working to ease the tension gathered there, but Elara’s mind was elsewhere. Her phone rested beside her, silent and cold. Colden hadn’t called in weeks. No texts, no replies. Only silence. That kind of silence could drive a woman like her insane.

The door opened. A man in a dark suit entered, hesitating before speaking. “Miss Elara…” His voice trembled slightly. “There’s news about Mr. Colden.”

Her eyes snapped open. She didn’t move for a second, her breath pausing mid-chest. Then, slowly, she sat up. “What kind of news?”

The servant looked down, choosing his words carefully. “It seems Mr. Colden has… brought a girl into his house. She’s been staying there for several days. Word is… he plans to marry her.”

The quiet hum of the spa was instantly broken. The masseuse’s hands froze on her back. Elara turned her head sharply, eyes blazing.

“Marry her?” she repeated, voice rising like a whip.

The man swallowed hard. “Yes, miss. His mother has been pressing him to settle down. It appears he’s finally agreed.”

A sharp crack split the air. The masseuse gasped, clutching her cheek, tears springing to her eyes. But Elara’s expression didn’t even flicker with guilt. Her fury wasn’t for the girl. It was for the image forming in her mind — Colden, with someone else.

“Get out,” she said coldly.

The trembling girl bowed quickly and fled the room. The servant stayed, eyes low.

Elara stood, her silk robe slipping down one shoulder as she paced the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

“He plans to marry her,” she said under her breath, half-laughing, half-seething. “How convenient. His mother must be thrilled.”

Her gaze turned distant, then sharpened again. “If that woman hadn’t meddled… if she hadn’t gone digging into my past…” Her voice trembled with rage. “He would’ve chosen me.”

Her nails dug into her palm, drawing a thin line of red. She welcomed the sting. It kept her focused.

The servant hesitated. “Miss, perhaps this is only a rumor. You know how gossip travels—”

“Do I look like a fool?” she snapped, eyes flashing. “If it were anyone else, perhaps. But Colden doesn’t ‘bring girls home.’ Not unless he means something by it.”

Her anger cracked into something deeper — pain. She pressed her fingers to her temple, exhaling shakily. “I’ve known him for years. Since we were children. We grew up in the same circles. He’s tolerated every woman his mother tried to set him up with — but never once has he taken one home.”

The servant stayed silent.

“I was different,” she continued, almost to herself. “He liked me. I know he did. We had something—” She stopped, her throat tightening with humiliation. “He looked at me like no one else. But his mother…”

Her tone turned bitter. “His mother despises me. She thinks I’m tainted. Because of a few mistakes. Because I refused to play the perfect doll like the rest of her candidates.” She turned toward the window, her reflection caught in the glass. “She called me reckless. Unfit.”

A humorless laugh escaped her lips. “She found out about the men I saw before him. The parties. The rumors. She made sure he heard every one of them.”

“Miss…” the servant said carefully, “forgive me, but if Mr. Colden’s mother disapproves—”

Elara turned sharply. “Do you think I care about that woman’s approval?” she hissed. “I’ve loved him for years. I won’t let anyone take him from me.”

The servant bowed his head. “What would you like me to do?”

Her expression smoothed out, the anger folding into a cold, precise calm. That was when she was at her most dangerous.

“Find out everything about this girl,” she said quietly. “Her name, her background, where she came from. I want to know what she eats, where she sleeps, who her family is. Everything.”

He nodded. “Yes, Miss Elara.”

“And when you do,” she added, her lips curving into a thin, poisonous smile, “bring her picture to me. I’d like to see what kind of face could make him forget mine.”

The servant hesitated again. “Miss, forgive me for saying this, but if Mr. Colden truly intends to marry her—”

She turned her gaze on him, and he fell silent.

“Men don’t change overnight,” she said softly. “If he’s with her, it’s because someone pushed him. His mother, most likely. Or some obligation. But his heart…” Her smile hardened. “His heart doesn’t belong to her. It never will.”

He bowed and exited quickly. The moment the door closed, Elara’s façade cracked.

She sat back on the bed, running a trembling hand through her hair. For a moment, her eyes glistened. “He can’t love her,” she whispered. “He can’t.”

She had waited for him to see her. But his mother always interfered, her gaze icy, her words polite and sharp.

“You should find someone…who suits a girl like you, Elara.” 

She poured herself a glass of champagne from the nearby table, her hand still shaking slightly. “A girl like me?” she muttered bitterly. “Does she think I don’t know what her family’s done behind closed doors?”

The glass trembled against her lips. “If only his mother liked me,” she whispered. “If only she hadn’t poisoned him against me.”

Her reflection in the mirror met her gaze — flawless, composed, but her eyes betrayed the storm beneath.

She smiled at herself, the kind of smile that promised trouble. “But no matter. If he’s marrying someone else, I’ll just have to meet her.”

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. The servant’s voice came from behind the door. “Miss Elara, shall I cancel your afternoon appointment?”

“No,” she said smoothly. “I’m going to need to look my best.”

“Understood, miss.”

When the door clicked shut again, she turned back to the mirror. “Colden likes beautiful things,” she murmured. “He always has. Let’s see if she can compete.”

Her mind was already spinning — who the girl might be, what she might want, what weaknesses she might have. Every woman had something that could be exploited. Fear. Insecurity. A past. Elara knew how to find those cracks and press until they broke open.

She stood, the silk robe sliding down to reveal a black satin dress beneath. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder, expression calm once more.

“Let’s see what kind of woman dares to take my place,” she said softly, almost lovingly. “And when I find her…” Her smile deepened. “She’ll wish she’d never met him.”

Outside, the fountain continued to sing its quiet song. Inside, the air felt colder, heavier — charged with the kind of promise that only a woman in love and fury could make.

Elara picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she reached a familiar name. Her thumb hovered, then pressed call.

“Hello, darling,” came the smooth voice on the other end.

“Elena,” Elara said sweetly. “I need a favor. A background check on someone… discreetly.”

There was a pause. “Someone related to Mr. Colden, I assume?”

Elara’s smile was pure venom. “His fiancée.”

“Ah,” the woman said, amused. “So the rumors were true.”

“Not for long,” Elara replied, her tone soft but cold enough to freeze the air.

When she hung up, she leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. Her anger had turned into something sharper — focus.

Let them whisper. Let his mother approve of the new bride.

Colden belonged to her.

And she would make the world remember that.