Chapter 2

I was well aware of what Agnes had left unsaid. Lyra was currently basking in Rowan's favoritism, just as I did in my past life. She looked glamorous and enviable, but she was nothing more than a caged canary. Meanwhile, here I was, washing herbs with jagged thorns until my hands were bloodied and raw.

Once, catching sight of the bloody tint in the basin where I was washing the medicinal herbs, Cyrus fell silent for a moment before inquiring, "Do you want to take a break?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you," I responded.

I truly meant it. Even though it was exhausting, it was worth it.

Adrian might have been quiet and cold, but he never stopped me from doing what I wanted.

To my surprise, during dinner that day, I stared at Adrian's Ivy League graduation certificate for a long time. The very next day, Adrian had Cyrus come and ask me whether I still wanted to pursue my education.

I stiffened. I recalled how, in my previous life, whenever I wanted to study, Rowan would always scoff at the idea, claiming that a daughter-in-law of the Blackwood family had no need to be intelligent and that being obedient and pretty was enough.

I nodded. Consequently, private tutors were hired for me in the courtyard.

Adrian gave me the opportunity to study. It was the kind of privilege I had never been able to obtain in my previous life, no matter how desperately I tried.

…

Early the next morning, I carefully made my way back along the corridor, cradling a stack of old books I had just retrieved from the library. These were all books Adrian had specifically asked for, so I had to be exceptionally careful.

As I rounded the corner, a figure abruptly collided with me. Caught completely off guard, the books in my arms scattered all over the floor.

I staggered and barely managed to steady myself. Before I could even see who it was, I heard a soft, sweet voice filled with surprise. "Look, Ro. It's Sylvia!"

I looked up. Rowan stood there, a doting smile initially playing on his lips. The moment he saw me, the smile on his face froze. His expression held unconcealed disgust.

"Sylvia?" His brows knitted together. "What are you doing here? Why are you following us like a piece of gum under our shoe?"

"I'm not following you," I calmly retorted, squatting down to pick up the books scattered across the floor. "I'm here to fetch some books."

"You're here to fetch books?" Rowan scoffed, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. "Why are you pretending to be so diligent and ambitious? Do you think that'll get my attention? Listen here, even if you follow me around every day, wagging your tail and begging, I still won't spare you a second glance! My fiancee can only be Lyra!"

My heart still ached a little when I heard that. It wasn't because I still harbored any lingering feelings for him, but because I felt sorry for the version of me from my previous life, the woman who had been blinded. That woman had given her heart to the wrong person.

"Don't talk about Sylvia like that, Ro," Lyra said softly, gently tugging at Rowan's arm. "Sylvia just isn't used to it yet. After all, she always thought you would choose her…" She hesitated for a moment, reminding Rowan of my past wishful thinking.

Sure enough, he was provoked. "Not used to it? I think she's harboring resentment; she's jealous of you! A narrow-minded woman like her deserves to be stuck with that sickly older brother of mine!

"He's gloomy, and she's malicious; they're a match made in heaven!"

"What did you just say?" I jerked my head up. I could endure his humiliation of me, but I couldn't tolerate him slandering the person who had given me shelter and respect. "Mr. Adrian's not—"

"Not what?" Rowan cut me off impatiently. His voice dripped with utter ridicule. "Is he not sickly? Not despised by Father? Or are you saying he isn't gloomy?

"Sylvia, you've only been with him for a few days, and you've already learned to speak up for him? What, have you found yourself a new master that quickly and just switched the target you wag your tail for?"

"Ro…" Lyra abruptly let out a soft cry and bent over. Clutching her calf, her eyes misted over in an instant. "It hurts! I think I got scratched by the corner of a book…"

I stared at her in disbelief. Even though those books were old, their corners were well-worn and rounded. Moreover, when they scattered earlier, they had not touched her in the slightest.