CHAPTER 4: The First Cut

Morning came with a pale light that bled across the velvet drapes, casting my chamber in cold silver. I lay awake long before my maid arrived, tracing the plan in my mind.

Revenge wasn’t one great blow not at the start. The first strike was always small, almost invisible.

Like the first cut in a silk gown, it went unnoticed until the whole thing unraveled in your hands.

I rose from bed and crossed to my vanity. My reflection stared back unmarked, flawless. Not the bloodied woman gasping her last on the cold marble floor ten years from now.

Lira, my maid, entered with her usual quiet tread, carrying a tray of tea and fresh bread. “Good morning, my lady.”

I poured the tea myself, letting the steam curl into my face. “Lira,” I said, “I need you to send word to the Duke of Veyra’s creditors. Tell them their debts are to be settled in full… anonymously.”

She froze mid-step. “My lady… that’s a fortune.”

“It’s an investment,” I said, sipping my tea. “One day, they’ll repay me  in blood or secrets.”

Her brows drew together, but she only nodded. “As you wish.”

By mid-afternoon, I was wrapped in my sable cloak and on my way to the royal jeweler. The carriage wheels crunched over the frost-hardened streets, each turn taking me deeper into the merchant district.

The shop’s windows glittered with diamonds, emeralds, and rubies set in gold so bright it almost hurt to look at. I pushed open the door, and warm air heavy with the scent of beeswax and polish wrapped around me.

“Lady Serina,” the jeweler said, bowing low. “Come to discuss your engagement crown?”

“In part,” I said, my fingers drifting over a tray of unset stones. “But I’m also here for something… singular.”

And there it was the rare diamond Damien had been saving for Aria’s wedding gift in the future. I had seen it before in my first life, sparkling at my sister’s throat as she smiled over my grave.

Not this time.

“I’ll take it,” I said.

The jeweler blinked. “Ah the Duke”

“I will pay in full, now. Have it delivered discreetly to my chambers.”

His eyes flickered with calculation. He knew better than to argue.

By the time I returned to the estate, a whisper had already begun to spread that Lady Serina had been seen at the jeweler’s, her purchase extravagant enough to rival royal commissions.

Exactly as I wanted.

Damien prided himself on controlling every narrative, every appearance of wealth. A public display of lavish spending without his hand on the strings would gnaw at him. When he discovered the missing diamond, his pride would bleed, and when Aria received something lesser in its place, her vanity would burn.

That evening, I took tea alone in the sunroom, watching frost gather on the glass panes. The quiet was broken by the sound of boots on marble.

Cassian appeared in the doorway, unannounced, as if he had always belonged here.

“You’re difficult to reach,” he said.

“I prefer it that way.”

He stepped inside, gloved hands clasped behind his back. “Word is you made quite the purchase today.”

I arched a brow. “Do you always keep track of my spending?”

“When it’s this interesting, yes.” He leaned against the window frame, the winter light cutting across his cheekbones. “Let me guess the diamond was meant for someone else.”

“You guess well.”

He smiled faintly. “Then I’ll guess again Damien will know it’s missing within two days. Three at most.”

“That’s the point,” I said, pouring a second cup of tea and sliding it toward him.

He didn’t drink. “Do you want him to confront you?”

“I want him to wonder. To suspect. To waste time chasing shadows while I pull the floor from under him.”

Cassian’s eyes gleamed. “And here I thought you wanted me for my sword arm.”

“I want you for many things,” I said before I could stop myself.

Silence. Then his lips curved into something slow, dangerous. “Careful, Serina. Some debts can’t be repaid in coin.”

After he left, the scent of his smoke and winter air lingered in the room. I stood there for a moment, fingers resting on the teacup he’d refused, before the sound of footsteps behind me snapped my attention back.

Damien stood in the doorway.

“You didn’t tell me Cassian Veyra was calling,” he said, voice flat.

“I didn’t know I needed your permission to receive guests.”

His jaw flexed. “He’s not a friend to this house.”

“Neither am I,” I said sweetly, brushing past him.

That night, I dreamed of the moment ten years from now when Damien’s hand would slip from my throat, his eyes wide in disbelief as the blade slid into him instead.

And for the first time in this second life, I woke up with a smile.