Chapter 2: A Devious Plan

HELENE

Amidst my confusion, I heard Camille speak.

“From what I can remember, this engagement wasn’t originally supposed to fall upon Noemie. In fact, Lucien and Helene were the better match, with their ages being almost the same…”

Her words Instantly pulled all of us back into old memories.

Indeed, before the age of fifteen, I had always known that I had a fiancé.

The engagement between the Laurent and Blackthorne families had been established during our grandfathers’ generation—long before I was even born. Originally, it was meant to unite the eldest daughter and eldest son of the main branches of both families.

However, neither my father nor Mrs. Blackthorne had any interest in each other. They already had partners of their own—my mother and Lucien’s father.

Naturally, the possibility of marrying their other children was considered. But with the Laurent family, they hit a snag—my father was an only child.

With no suitable counterpart on our side, the match quietly fell through.

And just like that, the engagement faded into obscurity.

It wasn’t until my grandfather passed away that things changed.

Whether out of regret or a desire to honor an old promise, Laurent’s grandfather brought the engagement back to the forefront, determined to fulfill the vow he had made to his late friend.

Unfortunately, timing worked against them once more.

Mrs. Blackthorne conceived late, while my mother gave birth to Camille early. The age gap between the two eldest children became far too wide for the match to be viable.

And so, their attention turned to me, who was born around the same time as Lucien.

Just like that, my future was decided.

No one, however, anticipated what would follow.

At thirteen, Noemie fell in love with her would-be brother-in-law.

Her Infatuation was fierce and undisguised. She made no effort to hide either her feelings or the hostility she harbored toward me, until even our parents could no longer pretend not to notice.

Then came the tears.

The desperate pleas.

Even threats of self-harm.

She wielded every weapon at her disposal, until our parents finally agreed to transfer the engagement onto her.

I never knew what my parents said to the Blackthorne family to secure their consent. I only knew that, before I could fully process what had happened, Noemie had became publicly acknowledged as Lucien’s fiancée.

And I—

Was “persuaded” to retreat gracefully.

Even now, I could still recall the exact words my parents had used when they finally deigned to inform me of their decision.

“Helene, I know this might be difficult for you to accept,” my mother had said, her tone steeped in affected gentleness. “But your younger sister truly likes him and insists she’ll be with no one else. Besides, you and Lucien don’t have feelings for each other yet, so it hardly matters… right?”

As for my father—

“You’re the elder sister,” he had said flatly. “Giving way once isn’t a big deal. To avoid attracting unnecessary attention, stay indoors for the next few days. As compensation, your monthly allowance will be doubled.”

To be honest, I hadn’t felt much about the engagement changing hands.

The truth was, I barely knew Lucien back then.

Unlike him and my two sisters, who studied at elite institutions, I attended a regular school; having spent most of my childhood living with my maternal grandparents. For that same reason, Lucien and I had only met a handful of times—at most exchanging polite greetings that never lingered long enough to leave an impression.

To me, he was merely a cold, distant boy.

And to him, I was probably nothing more than a quiet, unremarkable girl.

Moreover, I had always sensed that who his fiancée was never truly mattered to him. To Lucien Blackthorne, the engagement had always seemed like an obligation—one he would fulfill regardless of the name attached to it.

So when the decision was made, aside from the faint distaste of being treated as a disposable pawn, I felt close to nothing.

—

Snapping out of my reverie, I studied Camille with renewed attention, as though seeing her for the first time.

In this family, I had always known where I stood.

To my mother, Noemie alone was enough to occupy all her affection and concern. To my father, grooming Camille into the perfect successor consumed his every thought and effort.

As for me—the unfortunate middle child—I had long grown accustomed to being sidelined and overlooked.

Yet I had never truly resented them for it.

Perhaps it was because this was my second chance at life.

In my past life, I had been born an orphan and lived in a post-apocalyptic world ravaged by extreme climates and mutated beasts. Survival had been a daily struggle.

So when I died and opened my eyes again to find myself reborn in a clean hospital room, welcomed into a peaceful, orderly world as a newborn, I had been nothing short of overjoyed.

At first, I had even harbored naïve fantasies. I thought I might finally make up for the regrets of being an orphan in my previous life.

I never expected that, from the very beginning, I would be shunned and rejected by my birth parents.

The reason was laughably simple and unbelievably cliché.

Because I wasn’t a son.

After giving birth to Camille or perhaps, even before then, my parents became obsessed with producing a male heir. So when my mother conceived me, they were convinced I would be the long-awaited answer to their expectations.

Reality proved otherwise.

And so, all their disappointment and resentment at having their hopes dashed were quietly redirected toward me—an innocent, defenseless newborn.

One might wonder why the same treatment hadn’t been extended to Camille or Noemie.

The reason was simple. By the time Noemie was born, Camille had already displayed signs of remarkable business aptitude, resulting in my father no longer feeling desperate for a male heir. And with that pressure lifted, my mother became free to display her ‘motherly affections’ without reservation.

Absurd, wasn’t it?

But it no longer mattered.

What you never truly had could never truly hurt you.

That said, I had always felt a faint sense of pity toward Camille. Because before she became favored, she too, had endured a period of neglect.

But unlike me, she had neither the memories nor experience of another life, no emotional distance to shield her.

Yet now, as I mulled over her words, I realized that my pity might have been misplaced.

She actually wanted to push the engagement back onto me.

What a perfect arrangement, I thought mockingly. Enjoy the benefits during the good times, and when misfortune strikes, simply pass the burden onto someone else.

Seems like they were beginning to mistake my silence for me being a pushover.

So—

I lifted my gaze and met Camille’s eyes directly.

“You must be joking,” I said calmly. “Everyone here and in all of Solstice City knows how deeply in love Noemie is with her fiancé. She even once swore she’d never marry anyone else but him. Given such devotion, who could possibly be a more perfect match than the two of them?”

I turned my gaze toward the figure nestled in our mother’s arms.

“Isn’t that right, Noemie?”

“It’s understandable to feel shaken by his accident,” I continued gently, every word dripping with feigned concern. “But considering how much you love him, I’m sure you’ll come around soon. After all, abandoning him at a time like this would risk you being labeled as flighty and unfaithful.”

“You—!”

Noemie shot upright, her face flushing red with humiliation and fury as she pointed at me. “Y-you’re spouting nonsense!”

Of course, my parents wouldn’t stand by and watch their cherished little flower get ‘bullied.’

“That’s enough, Helene,” my father snapped.

My mother frowned, displeasure evident in her tone. “Do you really have to speak so harshly?”

Suddenly, I felt exhausted.

How long was I expected to keep enduring this blatant favoritism and disregard?

Ten years? Twenty? Or a lifetime?

Whenever Noemie hurled insults at me, they barely reprimanded her. Yet the moment I spoke even slightly out of line, I became the unreasonable one.

With that thought, my patience finally wore thin.

I rose slowly to my feet.

“I just remembered I have an important engagement,” I said evenly. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay for dinner.”

My father’s expression darkened instantly. “What kind of flimsy excuse of that? Are you trying to walk out simply because we scolded you a little?”

“You’re overthinking,” I replied calmly. “I genuinely have something to do before the day ends.”

Without waiting for a response, I picked up my bag and headed for the door.

“If you leave now, don’t even think about stepping foot in this house again!” my father barked behind me.

I didn’t pause.

As I reached the entrance, I caught my mother’s hushed reproach, the word ‘ungrateful’ slipping into my ears.

Ignoring it entirely, I stepped outside and shut the door behind me, the sound echoing sharply through the quiet night.