CHAPTER 3: The Game Begins

By the time Eleanor stepped back into the estate, the sun was dipping low behind the hills. The lights inside their mansion glowed warmly, like a trap made of gold. Elegant. Polished. Deceptive.

She walked through the marble foyer with calm, practiced steps. Her meeting with Lucian still lingered in her thoughts. His sharp words, his hesitation, the flicker of something real when she said she’d changed. It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no either.

Eleanor took a deep breath and headed toward the stairs. That’s when she heard the voice.

“Oh—ah!” A small yelp echoed from the hallway near the sitting room.

Eleanor turned, and Jane was on the floor. Books spilled. A vase shattered nearby. Her hand clutched her ankle as if in pain, eyes wide and watery. The perfect picture of helplessness.

“Lady Eleanor, I—I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry,” Jane said, trying to push herself up, only to fall back down with a soft whimper.

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I was just walking,” Jane breathed, her voice trembling. “I—I didn’t mean to get in your way. Please don’t be upset…”

Footsteps thundered down the hallway. Sebastian appeared first, his sleeves rolled up like he was ready to save the day. Damien followed close behind, his eyes scanning the scene.

“Jane! What happened?” Sebastian knelt beside Jane.

“She fell,” Eleanor said flatly.

Jane shook her head quickly. “It was my fault. I startled her—I didn’t mean to upset Lady Eleanor, truly. She must’ve been tired from her errand and I—I guess I got in her way.”

Sebastian stepped forward, helping Jane sit up properly.

“Did she push you?” he asked.

“What?” Eleanor snapped. “Of course not. Are you really serious?”

Jane lowered her head, biting her lip like she was trying not to say anything.

Sebastian turned to Eleanor, frowning. “You shouldn’t take your stress out on her. Jane works hard around here, unlike you who has everything.”

"Sebastian..." Damien calmly said, holding his brother's arm.

Eleanor stared at them. She scoffed and laughed sarcastically. “You really think I pushed her?”

Jane quickly shook her head. “No! She didn’t—she didn’t mean to. I probably startled her, really. It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. Not to them. And Eleanor knew exactly what Jane was doing.

“What is going on here?” Her mother, Cecilia, entered the hall, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. Her father, Leon, trailed behind, adjusting his cufflinks.

Eleanor straightened.

“Jane had a little accident,” Sebastian said. “We think Eleanor might’ve been… involved.”

Her mother frowned. “Involved?”

Eleanor clenched her fists. “I didn’t push her.”

“Sweetheart,” Leon sighed, “we understand this is a stressful time. But there’s no need to create scenes. Jane did not do anything bad to deserve this.”

Jane wiped her eyes. “I’m really okay. I don’t want to make things worse. Please don’t scold Lady Eleanor.”

“You’re too kind, Jane,” Sebastian said gently. “Let us take you to the hospital.”

And there it was. The narrative Jane had so carefully spun. Delicate, soft-spoken, always stepping aside but never quite out of sight. Eleanor felt heat rise to her face. Jane had always staged the whole thing, and Eleanor was blind enough to think she was really at fault in her previous life. Just enough doubt, just enough pity, just enough perfect timing to look innocent while Eleanor took the blame. Again.

Eleanor took a slow breath.

“Get her some ice,” Eleanor said coldly. “If she’s hurt, treat her properly.”

Her mother gave her a disapproving look, but said nothing else.

The brothers helped Jane to her feet, carefully walking her toward the sitting room couch like she was made of glass. Jane glanced over her shoulder… just once, and met Eleanor’s gaze. There was no fear in her eyes.